Morgan slipped into the auditorium with a soft rustle of silk, mouthing "I was careful this time", before walking down the main aisle and climbing on the stage to join Isabelle.

Quickly scanning the stage, littered with discarded costumes, half-constructed backdrops and... was that a frilly pair of panties in the corner?, Morgan chose to perch, one knee to the chest, on a sturdy-looking prop -a roman column? How surprising. Did Isabelle get bullied into teaching Julius Caesar after all? She had been soadamant that no Shakespeare was to be performed on her watch.

Leaning forward towards the other teacher, a coy smile on rosebud lips : "Don't worry so much. You know if we get caught, I'll get off scot-free."

Morgan continued, in a comically gruff voice, "Now, miss Thanisch, why do you keep on dragging poor innocent Miss Leigh into your terrible schemes! You know alcohol is not allowed on the premises!"

Laughing, Morgan extended an arm and reached for the glass, slender manicured fingers wrapping around its stem. The bottle that Isabelle had poured from was a bottle of Riesling. To sweeten a bad day. The laughter stopped. A frown replaced it.

"Riesling... What's bothering you, Isabelle?"