The Wine's been stirred and has now been spilled.
|Coughing in a crypted cry,
A smirk like none other,
Smooth wine softly being stirred in hand,
His eye twitches.
His hair a dark brown,
slicked back to appeal onlookers,
his tie neatly done.
His confidence dangerous.
He went on to remind those surrounding him,
Empty glares reading him up.
It was not a meaningful battle.
A lady spoke up tilting her wide-brimmed hat back.
A sparkling twinkle in her eye as she admired him.
With the nod of his head,
They had combined.
The stirred wine had fallen to the ground,
blood red liquid and glass shattered coating the marble tile.
Yes, the deal was simply this.
Stirring and spilling, red wine.