This is a scene fill-in, just after Henry II's made The Best Speech ever and has left Phillip's rooms, bellowing "And may you be plagued by all your children!"
Based on historical characters and a specific story about them written by James Goldman.
John was the first to leave. He lurched out the door in his stumbling half-run, and Phillip couldn't tell if he turned after his father or not. Richard was next to go, stalking, back rigid, determinedly not looking back.
Phillip watched him go, unsure how much of the sour taste in his mouth was bitterness, and how much was regret. 'He used me, and I used him,' he told himself. 'And that's all.'
Which left Geoffrey. Who was still staring at where Henry had been standing, unmoving.
"Geoff..."
"That was very good," Geoffrey said, lightly. He didn't turn. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone get to him that way. Not even mother."
The words were right, Geoffrey's polished diction enunciated carefully midway between Aquitaine and Paris. And the tone was almost right. But Phillip could already hear something was wrong. 'Oh, merde...'
"That was very cruel, what you did to Richard."
Phillip stepped forward, but Geoff finally looked up, and half-smiled, eyes dark. He dropped what he was going to say and pleaded, "Geoffrey..."
Geoff raised his eyebrows, mocking inquiry.
"It could still work."
Geoffrey shook his head. "No, Phillip," he said gently. "No, it couldn't."
The door shut behind him. Phillip groaned and poured himself more brandywine. Negotiations were most definitely over, and nobody at Chignon had won a damn thing.