"And what will you give me," said the little man to the miller's daughter, "if I rescue you once more, and spin this straw into gold for you?"
"Alas!" she wailed, lamentation in her voice. "Alas, for I have nothing more to give you!"
"Surely there is something," the little man replied, smiling knowingly.
"V-very well," she said, an idea taking root, shaping, forming. "You may have my firstborn child."
She whirled around, eyes flashing with fear and surprise, and the click of a gun resounded as she pointed it at the approaching figure.
"Put that down, you fool! It's just me!"
Sighing in relief, she put the pistol back in its holster and moved some brown hair from her face. "My apologies; you startled me."
"Where are the others?" he asked, looking around. "Have they forgotten our little arrangement?"
"Not at all," she answered. "Merely running late."
"That was not the expression of someone expecting a friend running late."
She chuckled grimly. "My dear Mr. Sunday, for a moment there, I thought that you were the Architect come upon me herself."
"There is nothing she can do to us anymore," Sunday said, with more than an ounce of confidence- perhaps hubris. "She's dead, and if she isn't, she's ruined, financially, politically, socially, and otherwise. We are free of her, free of her interference and her blackmail and her expectations."
"Shoddy expectations," she murmured. "Very well, then. All we have to discuss tonight is a simple matter of business- namely, who gets what of the will. I am quite prepared to draft a fake one if necessary. It shan't prove too difficult to make it seem authentic."
"There is no need to fret on that account, Ms. Saturday," Sunday smiled coldly. "It seems that my mother was quite liberal in leaving her wealth to those she once trusted… and misused."
"I am indeed relieved to hear that she never got around to changing it like she threatened," she said. "Between just you and me, I was getting close to…" She pursed her lips. "Well, needless to say, I was not in the mood for a lawsuit with Mr. Tuesday. Not yet, anyway."
"That is most understandable," Sunday agreed, "and you aren't the only one. I hear Ms. Friday's escapades are catching up to her as well."
"She'll be in the news for another scandal soon, I gather?" Saturday snorted.
"Without a doubt. Monday's practically disappeared from the public scene, Wednesday's running the navy as always- she needs to be put on a tighter leash, though, I feel ill at ease with her 'guilty conscience' troubling her- and Sir Thursday has yet again proven why he is the country's greatest general."
"And what about you, Mr. Prime Minister?" she whispered. "No one's going to think it odd that you snuck away to see a member of the Senate at this hour? Avoiding your bodyguards and wife, no less. We have to be careful, or they may suspect these meetings. And if they suspect these meetings, it's only a matter of time before they find out about her will."
"I believe it is your reputation that needs more protection than mine," Sunday said. "I could easily survive such a scrutiny of the public eye, but you… your approval ratings have fallen, have they not?"
She scowled. "They'll be up again before long. Without her interference, I can finally take this country towards the direction it needs." Catching his expression, she amended, "With your help and approval, of course."
"Of course," he said. "Of course. I do wish the other five would get a hurry-on. It's a bit of a shame that the fate of the country rests on shoulders such as theirs."
"We are here to prop it up and shoulder the burden," Saturday reminded him.
"Naturally," Sunday said. "Imagine where this country would be without us, Senator Saturday."
"Oh, in the grips of nuclear Armageddon, I'm sure," she laughed humorlessly.