Kent storms into the dining room, where the table is set for four. He sits down hard in his chair at the head of the table, waving at the place settings on either side of him.
“Remove these,” he says to the waitstaff, biting off the words in his frustration. “Have Daniel’s and Fay’s plates sent up to Fay’s room, they’ll take their supper there.”
The waitstaff give each other worried looks but silently do as they’re told. The chef comes out next, looking around the room.
“Sir?” He asks, his French accent heavy in the word. “Will you be dining alone?”
“Apparently,” Kent says, angry that Fiona isn’t here either. “Please bring it out.”
The chef nods, impassive, and heads back into the kitchen. A few moments later he appears again with Kent’s first course - salmon tartare with a small
