When morning came, he rose and was poised on the edge of his seat at the breakfast table when Ronan made his way into the kitchen—that handsome Irish rabbit sniffing the trail ahead totally unaware a snare of such diabolical invention as to insure instant and merciless death was just millimeters from his neck. One cross word was all it would take for Felix to spring into action.
“‘Mornin’, Felix. Ya sleep alright?”
“Huh?” Felix’s trap sprung with a squeak instead of a snap.
“Just askin’ if ya slept alright.” Ronan hobbled much more smoothly to his place at the table and grabbed up a piece of bacon, biting off half of it and chewing with gusto. “Looks like ya did. Got pillow lines on your face and everythin’.”
“Huh? Oh.” Felix suspected he had overestimated his rapier wit as he felt his face.
Ronan chuckled and winked at Felix who ate in silence as Ronan and his grandfather discussed the status of their latest cheese batch now that it no longer had to be kept secret.