"I've heard about this contest you two have over your shoes," Nigel said, coming in. "Oh, are these the same shoes? Have you mended them already?"
"I like these shoes," she shrugged. "I will win. Sooner or later, I will defeat Marcus over these shoes."
"Doubtful," Nigel said. "Marcus Belby has a stubborn streak a mile wide. I'm noticing this house is full of completely incorrigible people," Nigel laughed. "I don't think there's a one of you that doesn't have a stubborn streak. Alright. Let me see the damage. Marcus said I should put you in a cast up to your...well, never mind."
"Anyway, you're very welcome, Ruby," Khaat told her. "I'm glad Angus's had a good day. I was wondering how he was doing, but I thought the best medicine for him was to let him spend the day with you. What's with the early supper?"
"Some new wild hair of your father's," Nigel said, taking her shoes to check her ankle.
"Ow, that hurts," she winced.
"Well, of course it does," Nigel said. "You've bollocksed it up, my dear. No more stilletto's for a bit, not even if they're gold plated and diamond studded. I'll wrap it for you, and we'll ice it. If you're planning on any formal balls in the next few days, you'd better dust off your nicest trainers, because you won't be wearing heels of any type or height until I say otherwise."
Marcus came back in, checking that Nigel had gotten there.
"God, that smells good. I'm hungrier than I thought. I'll handle dessert tonight, Ladies," Marcus told Ruby and Jess.
"You don't bake," Khaat scowled at him.
"No, but I'm an expert at takeaway," he said. He picked up Khaat's shoes and walking out with them, snapping the heels off again as he left with them.
"I heard that, Marcus!" Khaat shouted after him.
"Good. I had them last. I win," he called back.