Wrath had spent the evening with Richard, beating the crap out of Henry for deigning to wish ill on her George, and Patrick a little too. Then she had gotten pretty drunk and was still hungover.
But she would attempt not to rip the new George's head off because she had just fought for the honour of all the Georges. She might as well be kind. Or her version of kind.
She was waiting outside the room and when two George's appeared, she smiled faintly at both of them. "Hey," she said, hoping it was a companionable tone. Sometimes it was hard to tell.