"That slimy git!" Libby fumed. "That utter limy sleazeball!" she raged, stabbing her lunch with her fork and proceeded to viciously murder it.

Gerald placed a calming hand on her arm, "Libby, no need to kill the pasta any more," he told her, a hint of a laugh in his tone about her actions.

She stopped mid-stab, surprised and stared at him for a moment. "Aren't you even a little bit upset about this all?" she demanded.

Gerald looked taken aback at her tone. "Of course I'm upset! How can I not be?! After all, he is my Dad...! How can you expect me to not be upset about what happened to him?!"

"How's he doing?" Libby asked, taking a bite of her lunch.

"He's devastated! I don't think I've ever seen him in worse shape. Well, except for when Mum left for France without him, but that's totally different... This was like his dream, to own and manage a bar..." Gerald gave a sigh and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Ugh, I could just wallop him right here and now!" Libby burst out. "How could he do something like that?!"

"Because he's cold and heartless and cares more about how much income he's receiving. He said Dad was about to sink his business. At least that's what he told me when I confronted him..."

"You actually talked to him?" Libby asked incredulously.

"Yelled at more like," Gerald replied.

Libby gave a frustrated sigh. "I wish there was something we could do..."

Gerald shook his head. "Yeah, I wish there was something too... But there isn't, not unless Kieran suddenly has a change of heart, or Dad unexpectedly inherits a bar from someone..."

Libby's eyes lit up. "That's it!"

Gerald looked at her curiously. "What's it?"

"We'll get Nigel his own bar!" she explained, her eyes sparkling.

Gerald gave a rueful laugh. "Oh yup totally. Except my Dad doesn't have that kind of money, Libby."

"Well no, but we could get one for him," she told Gerald, her sparkle a tiny bit gone now that she remembered about the money aspect of buying a bar.

"Earth to Libby. Neither of us exactly walk around with a spare several hundred thousand..." Gerald reminded her, devouring the rest of his sandwich.

"Maybe not, but if all the fans of Nigel's cuisine donated just a bit, no matter how small, plus if Nigel has any savings himself, we could get hima bar no problem!" She took a bite of her pasta. "It'll be a piece of cake," she gave a chuckle, "a piece of organic honey cake." Then she fixed him with a look, "And I was not killing my pasta!"