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As organized as ever, Chadwick chose to visit the Butcher's shop last. Thankfully, Morgan had referred him to Butcher's Block, which, if not exactly on Chadwick's way to the Queen, was at least in the general direction. As he approached, he could see into the shop through the side window, where displayed were several choice cuts of meat hung up for display. Continuing around the corner, he came to the front of the store, and passed another large picture window through which he could see the long glass counter that abutted the wooden block on which the meat was prepared. More choice cuts were on display with large signs advertising specials and the types of meat to be had. It was well laid out- different from what one would think of a butcher shop,- and obviously the proprietor took pride in his work. As he came to the entrance to the shop burdened with his gifts from the florist and chocolatier, he was almost run down as the heavy doors were flung open with some force as a woman walked very fast from the establishment- or was she running?

"Wha' did I say?" A short mustachioed heavyset man in a smock stood in the door in her wake, looking so innocuous that he *couldn't* be the reason she was leaving so quickly. He shrugged, raising his pudgy hands into the air innocently. "Some people... I swear."

"Oh! Hey fella! You look a little overburdened there," he said cheerily seeing Chadwick balancing his load. "Come on in! Just put that on the table there." He motioned to a wooden table not far inside the shop as he held the door open for the young man. "Come! Come!"

Grateful for the cheer and help, Chadwick smiled as he was ushered into the butcher shop. He set his belongings down where he was told to. "I hear you sell sausages," he said. "A woman I know is in need."

Andre didn't seem like one to be caught speechless. But his mouth opened into an 'O' and his left eyebrow raised as he looked at Chadwick in silence. A man browsing the small section of the store that was reserved for wines and cheeses suppressed a snicker, and that seemed to force Andre to recover, saying, "Kid, you've got to quit taking my lines. Ok." He raised his hands as if in surrender. "Ok... I get it. Thom... you put him up to this?" he asked the other man, who shrugged.

He looked back at Chadwick. "Who put you up to this, kid?"

Chadwick was surprised. "I... I... I was told that women like sausages." He searched his mind in desperation for the person who'd told him this, who'd set him on this adventure. His jaw worked as he tried to remember the name of the grinning, jolly, half-drunken...

"Morgan," he said with sudden clarity.

"Oh HO!" he replied. "Well, *surely* Morgan wouldn't lead you wrong, would he now?"

Chadwick's brow suddenly furrowed as uncommon thoughts fought for dominance. None of them prevailed.

He put his arm around Chadwick in a comradely manner. "And he did send you to the right place, yes he did," he said in a conspiratorial manner. "Not too many people know more about sausages or the correct usage of them to impress a woman, if I do say so myself."

"What did you say your name was, lad?"

"Chadwick, sir. I was hoping for something... something impressive." He was in a meat shop. He was distinctly unaware of the goings on of meat. He could identify a good steak, could tell when the pork needed to be sent back. Sausage... it was a foreign field to him entirely.

"Well, young Chadwick," Andre said, guiding him further into the shop, "I think we can help you there."

"Ghent!" he called, and a young man, dressed for all the world as if he was to do surgery, poked his head out of the back. "Get out here! Can't you see I have a special customer!?"

Ghent's head bobbed so fiercely in reply it was a surprise his spectacles didn't fall off his face as he pulled off his mask, taking a place behind the counter.

"Now," he continued as he and Chadwick passed the counter into the back room, "I'm very glad to see that you've put the horse before the cart, so to speak," Andre said. The back room was colder, though they were only in the dressing and preparation room- not in the freezer proper. "With the load you brought in, I can see you're quite smitten, but though flowering might come before deflowering, the meat that you bring to the consummation of any new relationship is key when the time comes...." he stopped his enthusiastic discourse, looking at Chadwick. "Are you following me, lad?"

Chadwick nodded vigorously. "No," he said honestly. "Except that quality sausage is important, more so than candy." He nodded. Andre seemed to have confirmed what Morgan had said.

Andre stopped for a moment. Then he nodded. "Good enough- you've got the essentials."

"I would think that quality trumps quantity, but one can never have too much of a good thing. I never did ask Morgan, but he probably wouldn't know: how does one prepare the meal? What goes best?"

"My boy, we've not got long- ladies don't like anything wilted or melted, unless they're responsible! But I'll try to give you the benefit of my many, many years of experience. Have a seat," he said, motioning to a stool.

"Quantity vs Quality- there's a good debate if I ever heard one! Another way that people put it is 'It's not about the meat, it's about the motion.'"

"See presentation is just as important as anything. The length... the girth... and of course it must be the correct temperature. There must be a certain... heat. Many people underestimate the passion of the act... but I'm getting ahead of myself. Look at me... go ahead. I know I'm just another slob, so you can't hurt my feelings. I'm not terribly romantic, or anything that you'd normally associate with a Casanova. But the ladies love me. Why? Because I.know.sausage."

He stopped for a second, then looked at Chadwick askew. "This wouldn't happen to be your first woman, would it?"

He wasn't quite sure what he was being asked, but Chadwick did know that only one answer was really safe. "Yes," he said clearly and proudly. He did recognize that, when it came to the arts of relationships, he was in the presence of someone who was far more experienced than him, and that this conversation was running on another level. Something he wasn't understanding was being said. Chadwick began to look for it, wondering at the subtlety.

Andre sighed, closing his eyes for a second. He said something under his breath, which could have been 'Morgan, you owe me.' Then again, it could have been 'Order some more meat,' which would tend to be more appropriate, if not exactly a timely statement.

He opened his eyes, and clasped his hands together, his countenance giving the irreverent impression of a priest about to take confession.

 "My son, have a seat, and let me ferry you to the greener side of

life, where you can lay down the burden you have been so wrongfully saddled with," he said with mock gravitas.

"The first time you share the culinary delight of sausage with a young lady is a time to be remembered, and savoured. Why, even after untold numbers of experiences, I still remember that first time. Ah yes, Meagan...."

"I thought it was Jhenifer," Ghent called from the front.

"Get back to work!" Andre yelled at his help, and the boy was gone from the door before he had the opportunity to say it twice.

"Now where was I. Ah... Jhenifer. Yes... a more succulent morsel of flesh could you not have asked for, than that we shared. There will be the temptation to rush... don't give into it. As I said, a good meal requires a certain heat, and that, quite honestly, takes time. However, some conversation helps to pass the time..." he leaned in to impart, sotto voce, "Women love a cunning linguist."

"Mood is everything also," he said, segueing into another topic. "If you don't mind, where do you have in mind for this... event ... to occur?"

"I imagine," said a bewildered Chadwick, "that it will be on board the ship." Behind those confused eyes, Chadwick was attempting to make something of this conversation and deciding that he would have to look this sort of thing up in the castle library.

"The ship!" Andre exclaimed. "Boy, you're halfway home already!" He looked off a moment, thinking. "Your ship, or hers?"

"My cousin's," Chadwick responded. Was he halfway between between Haraden and the castle? Somehow, he didn't think so.

"Hmmm... your cousin's doesn't work quite as well as your own, but we can work with..." Suddenly his eyes widened. "Exactly *how* did you say you know Morgan, again?"

"I... well," Chadwick fumbled with the urge to lie. It was fairly strong in this case, even though he was not normally prone to it.

"He's my cousin, I think."

Again, Andre was caught speechless, as he considered the ramification of what Chadwick had said.

Finally, when he could again speak, he asked carefully, "And this other ... cousin. Wouldn't happen to be. Petra Rossi? And the 'ship'... the Ramblin' Queen?"

"Oh, yes," Chadwick said with a little enthusiasm, "although I don't see Petra as much as I'd like. I'm seeing her this morning, though, I hope. Have you met her? There's a certain air of respectability with her. Keeps people at a distance, I think. Probably had her heart broken or something and wants to keep everyone at a distance for fear of getting hurt again. It's hard to tell, though."

He gave Andre a little smile.

"Fsck me like a goat," Andre said, with considerably more enthusiasm than Chadwick. "Listen, my boy. Forget *everything* I just told you." He closed his eyes. "Morgan... d@mn his eyes," he said absently. "I should have *known*..."

Chadwick's eyes widened as the vocabulary became less subtle. He was definitely going to spend some time in the castle library. "Yes, sir," he said with a nod.

His eyes opened. "I'll set you up with the most delectable sausage you ever saw," he said, his attention now on Chadwick. "Your lady friend will love it. I'll give it to you for free, even. Just because you're such a nice lad. I just need you to do one thing for me."

The small amount of Amberite suspicion that lived in his heart perked up upon hearing the last sentence, and promptly went back to sleep as Chadwick answered, "oh, absolutely."

"Never tell *anyone*, especially Lady Petra or Lord Morgan, about our conversation. As far as we're concerned, you came in, got the sausage, and left." He blew out a breath, and continued, not unkindly, "I'm sure your 'friend' can help you with anything you need, and will appreciate the flowers and candy."

He looked Chadwick in the eye. "Can you do that for me?"

"Oh, I'm sure that there'll be no need," the young Amberite replied, "to tell anyone anything about what was said here." Not that he understood it, really. Chadwick was almost incapable of following the conversation they'd had.

"Thank you, young Chadwick," Andre said, now restored to at least a modicum of his usual bluster. But even though he was minimally reassured, Chadwick found the preparation and packaging of his sausage to be a rather hurried affair- almost as if Andre was trying to get rid of him. But he wouldn't do that, right?

"So you have everything?" he asked, having piled Chadwick's packages back up into his arm, the nicely wrapped sausage added to the flowers and chocolates. "Good, good," he supplied not waiting for a reply as he bustled the young man out of the door. "Good luck with your lady friend, and don't forget our agreement!"

Chadwick almost stumbled out the door, barely maintaining control of the packages and careening around folks before righting himself. "Yes, sir!" he called back as he made his way down the street and toward the docks.

Andre waved, and hurriedly shut the door leaning against it in relief. "Never. Ever. Get mixed up in the games of nobles, you hear me, Ghent?"

Ghent merely bobbed his oversized head as Andre stumbled towards the back of the shop for a stiff drink.