A room 200 in High Rent, June is heard to say:
"'Erst kommt das Fressen, Dann kommt die Moral.'" I recite as I pour out two shallow glasses of rum I keep stocked for times of frivolous need.
Rothschild's peeled off her boots and left them by the door, happy to be out of them. She is quite a bit shorter than you, which becomes even more obvious when she reaches up to take the drink you've offered. She takes a long sip, then walks over to look at your array of plants, her free hand moving above the stalks and petals without touching.