“Want to see my fangs?” She asked. “It’s funny, the way a good house feels. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. The only occasional presence other than a skeleton crew of servants was Sebastianus, who occasionally joined Gianfrancesco in the hunt for stag, rabbit, or quail, and then went away for another fortnight. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas.
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