<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/4474/fy1ijwqfvup45ew6g.jpg) <br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Peter Warcaof</span></strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">CGDA Benefactor</span></strong></div></div></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/0d06/edp7l4ylbdz97uv6g.jpg) <br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Ari Warcaof </span></strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Businessman <br/>(of sorts) </span></strong></div></div></div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">I look at Ari and know what he’s thinking.  The desserts on order will be less than four in variety, but they will have appropriate numbers.  I rather like Miss Silk’s spunkiness and she does seem to have a calming effect on Jaclyn.  The complete opposite of how she has been interacting with me.<br/><br/>But now I am a Russian protector?  Perhaps.  I decide to conduct an experiment of sorts.  I shall order a White Russian as a drink—if they can serve, we stay even after dessert; if they cannot, we repair to the hotel.  I nod at Ari and he back at me.<br/><br/>I see a waiter and simply say, <strong>“White Russians, four please .”</strong> <br/></span>