“Resemblance?” Athos snorts, but suppresses a smile. “As long as you’re not planning to set up a menagerie, I’ll find it in my heart not to complain.” The cat doesn’t seem particularly impressed with this statement, but Athos only shakes his head. “You’re both madmen."

He settles into a chair at the table, which is made of wood and actually looks like a table, thank God, and gratefully accepts the wine. Athos’ head has been pounding since he walked away from the Rue Saint Jacques, and reunion with friends aside, nothing about Darrow has done anything to improve it. He drains half the glass, though it’s rather strong stuff. Not that he’s about to complain on that account.