Ignatius Leclair came back home past midnight.
The old man had been drinking in the evening, and once drunk, the little old fellow turned into a complete troublemaker. Hugging the lamppost at the doorway, he refused to let go, calling everyone his grandson, crying one moment and laughing the next, making an absolute scene.
Ignatius rarely showed a dark expression, but coaxed and cajoled the old man back home.
By the time the old man was settled, it was already close to one o'clock.
The man himself had a little to drink as well and carried a faint smell of alcohol. When he entered the bedroom, the nightlight was on, its soft blue glow illuminating the petite woman lying on the large black bed.
He leaned down to kiss her.
Delphine woke up in pain, her collarbone bitten hard. She cried out sharply, but her voice was swallowed entirely. The scent of pine mixed with alcohol permeated the air.
