Vlad's heart was thumping, his blood racing, he could feel his body crying out from the indignity of the position he was now in. Who was this hysterical harridan, this uppity harlot? He would show her.

He crawled into the bedchamber, and knealt by the bed as ordered. Magenta, swollen with rage, started screaming at him:

What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?
Were he not warm'd with ale,
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies!
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!
Cats, I will practise on this drunken man....

Vladimir moaned.. This was going to be a long night.