Under normal circumstances, Calibri’s grip wouldn’t have stopped Garamond. After all, he could easily lift the boy off of the ground with that arm, but there was something about the stiff-handed urgency that caused Garamond to reel back from the drink and pay attention to Calibri. He’d almost spilt it. A lucky break that he didn’t, given the price of his suit (although one wondered exactly how hard it would be for Garamond to replace something like that).

“Poisoned?” Garamond echoed in question, and a silence seemed to chill the space around them, a few party guests looking on with worried or disbelieving faces.