"Good morning, my dear vicious shrews. It's been a few minutes, hmm?" Salomon strolled slowly past the dining table, which was laden with a wide variety of breakfasts for the manor's residents. Dinah, the Artificial Maid responsible for the meals, stood at the dining room entrance with the double-bladed chainsaw greatsword gifted by the Witch on her back, carrying out her routine guard and serving duties. "Were you satisfied with yesterday? Or was wrecking just one antique four-poster bed not enough? Perhaps we should hold a wrestling match today?"
"Good morning, my dear lying stripper. It's been twenty minutes, I suppose—since I started brushing my teeth." Bayonetta lifted a wineglass for a sip, then contentedly continued shoveling into her mouth the beef tongue that had been stewed for hours until tender. One notable feature of this household was that even breakfast provided an excessive amount of calories and protein. Poor Milia had visibly put on weight since arriving here, giving Salomon and the Witches something pleasantly soft to kiss on the cheek. After the morning's customary "eating the child" session, Salomon finally asked about the other Witch. "Jeanne was still unconscious when I got up. Is she still sleeping in?"
"She didn't expect you to be so enthusiastic when your injuries had only just healed." Bayonetta raised an eyebrow, her alluring gaze full of barely restrained teasing. Her thin, exquisite black silk nightgown slipped from her shoulder like flowing water, revealing delicate black lace and faint rope marks at her collar. The Witches' spells could conjure instruments of torture from thin air. Those implements existed as part of the Witches' fun in battle, but that did not mean they would not play the victim themselves and enjoy the things they created. Quite a few Witches were especially fond of it,