Foreign Minister Parly and Admiral Casabianca excused themselves from the table and went off to their area of the room. The aides brought what had been paid for by the government. It was a spread of grapes, fruits, vegetables, hummus, various cheeses, crackers and wine.
"Christ, did she not think of any fucking optics when she picked this for us?" Parly grumbled. Florence had a history of being involved in the armed forces, much like the Prime Minister. However, she would have thought that because they were sisters in arms that they'd pick something a little more humble and lower class than this.
"I think they did that on purpose," the Admiral whispered under his breath. "We are supposed to be showing the Nicolezians what's what with the cheese. Les Vaches Rouges, remember?"
"Ah," Parly sighed. "Well, I guess we're just going to keep bumping heads then."
The government issued phones rang. It was FaceTime. Parly answered as it said La Eagle. She knew who it was. She answered and a smiling Baschet was in the Hotel Matignon looking at them.
"Allo, ca va?" asked Baschet.
"Les vaches rouges sont terribles," commented Parly in an exasperated manner. "It looks like we are just going to yell at the communists some more. Anyway, we need to keep going. It seems like there's movement on refugees but that's it. The Reichs want us to disband our military."
Baschet paused for a moment before she laughed over the phone.
"Oh, you can't be serious. No, that's never happening. If they keep asking for silliness, we should ask for them to pay more and more. If they don't accept, then work with Inquista and the Nicolezians to split the country up at that point," Baschet replied. "We don't have time for this; the bigger issue across La Manche is at hand."