Who: Armando<br/>Where: The Dining Room<br/>With: Chloe, Ethel and Mrs. Marsters<br/>When: Day 1<br/>What: Finishing dinner preparations<br/><br/>Armando had been going in and out of the kitchen like a worker ant on a sugar rush; darting in and out, bringing the food and laying it out on the rather shapely platters that were arrayed on the table. He laid them out as Mrs. Marsters commanded, moving at a slightly slower pace while working on the French platter to steal glances at her body. He did like and respect English women, but there was something about a French girl, that<em>je ne sais quoi</em>about them that just brought them higher than most other women ("but below Spaniards,<em>por supuesto</em>", though he). Perhaps it was their stereotypical haughtiness, or their similar-yet-different mannerisms and language to that of the Spanish; whatever it was, he certainly paid more attention to Chloe than Ethel, and while part of him felt bad for knowing just what would be happening to her ("Don't say a word to her about what she will be doing, or I'll have you on a boat across the Bay of Biscay faster than you can apologize!", he was told), that took a backseat to thoughts of what he'd like to do to the French dinner platter.<br/><br/>After some time, he brought out the last batch of food, laying it on the women as his lord and master, Mrs. Marsters, ordered. "There we are. Finally finished, ma'am!" he said, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms, stealing more glances at Chloe's food-covered body as he did so.