Author's Note: I was having a lot of fun writing this chapter! :) Enjoy!

Chapter 4

He staggered down the grand staircase, still pulling his bathrobe on, feeling disheveled, unkempt, and dead tired. When he got to the bottom, Castafiore was there, trotting around the house in her six-inch heels, shouting orders to Nestor about cooking temperatures for breakfast.

As if he doesn't already know!

When Castafiore saw him, she stopped in front of the stairs. "Ah, Captain Craddock! How lovely to see you! Did you have a good night's rest?"

"I… uh… not really," he mumbled, trying to avoid her as he neared the bottom of the stairs, but she trotted towards him and blocked his path.

"Now, now, Captain! That just won't do!" Her presence in front of him loomed overhead, dark and ominous, like some portent of doom. With a pudgy powdered hand, she patted his cheek affectionately. "It just won't do!"

"What won't do?" wondered Haddock blearily, wishing he was still in bed. It's nine in the morning, for goodness sake. I'm never up this early!

As Castafiore chattered on about something they were eating for breakfast, the Captain took a moment to survey her outfit for the day. Glossy red pumps, a ridiculous green-and-red dress that was probably supposed to look like holly and ivy, bright red lipstick, and demonic-looking dark green eye shadow. Not to mention what he guessed was several hundred carats of gold jewelry. Blistering barnacles, she looks like a carnival attraction in that outfit!

"…but I knew how much you adored Christmas, Captain, so I thought to myself, 'Why not send the poor old man some Christmas carolers to cheer him up? I know he'll like that!"

The Captain opened his eyes wide, suddenly awake with realization. "You sent those carolers?"

Bianca pursed her lips and looked slightly frustrated. "Well, yes, I did, but they seemed to have stopped."

As if right on cue, the dreaded voices began again.

"Cometh at length the age of peace, strife and sorrow now shall cease! Prophets foretold the wondrous story, of this heaven-born prince of glory!"

Castafiore smiled indulgently. "The little darlings, they've begun again! How too wonderful!"

"Why did you send them?" Haddock demanded. "I don't like Christmas music! Make them stop!"

"Why- you little old Ebenezer Scrooge, you! Ahahaha!" she laughed shrilly, the obscene sound ringing in Haddock's ears. "You don't mean that!"

As a matter of fact, Captain Haddock adored Christmas music. But certainly not now, certainly not here, and certainly not in connection to Bianca Castafiore. "Make them stop," he said, deliberately. "Please."

Castafiore looked offended. "Fine, then. Do it yourself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to attend to upstairs. Out of the way, my good man!"

Stunned momentarily, Haddock watched as Bianca breezed past him and trotted up the grand staircase. He was amazed at how quickly that woman's mood changed. What a prima donna! He thought disgustedly.

And now that she was out of the way, it was time for breakfast.

/

He found Tintin in the breakfast-room, looking neat, polite, and crisply dressed in a pair of khaki cords and blue pullover. Briefly forgetting Tintin's prank, he focused his attentions on food and sat down in the chair opposite Tintin, surveying the breakfast for the day.

"What do we have here?" he asked, partly to himself and partly to Tintin.

Tintin cut a sliver of pastry with his knife and ate it, chewing thoughtfully. "Cheese Danish, deviled eggs, croissants and fruit salad. Oh, and hot cocoa. Or coffee, if you want it."

"Hmm. Not bad."

"Not at all." With a slightly wicked smile, Tintin asked, "Did you have a bit of a rough time waking up this morning?"

"You know very well what kind of time I had this morning."

"Do I?" Tintin mimicked an innocent look. "I'm not sure I do."

'You do, believe me."

"I do?"

"You do."

"Hmm. As a matter of fact, I think it might be coming back," Tintin confessed. The Captain was convinced he heard a bit of restrained laughter in Tintin's voice, but he decided not to mention it.

"Let's hope so," muttered Haddock, looking out of the window. "Just so you know, this discussion isn't over."

"Will we get snow, do you think?" asked Tintin, deftly changing the subject.

It certainly didn't look like snow. The overcast skies of yesterday had thinned into a clear, crisp winter sky, and the ground was just as bare as ever. No, it probably wouldn't snow until January, and then they would have a blizzard.

"No," divined Haddock. "I predict very boring weather for the next few days."

"Hmm," replied Tintin, his mouth too full of pastry for anything else.

The Captain lowered his head into his hands, letting out a long sigh. "I'm so tired, Tintin. Everything is going wrong. I've been having bad luck in just about everything lately. Between the whole no-snow thing, and my splitting headache, and that anachronistic anacoluthon in our house, sometimes I feel like I'm going to have a nervous breakdown!"

At that moment, a shrill scream resounded through the entire house. It sounded like Bianca Castafiore, and it sounded like she was mad. "Ir-maa!" she shrieked. "Where did you put my fur coat and gloves? Answer me, girl!"

Captain Haddock raised a finger. "Listen," he whispered. "This is what I'm talking about."

"Yes, the Prada coat!" Castafiore screamed again, angrily this time. "No, not the other one! I don't wear that garbage! Bring me the Prada coat!"

A timid-sounding voice answered in reply, but was too faint to be heard clearly.

Heavy, fast footsteps stormed through the upstairs. "What are you doing to my darling coat?" Castafiore was shrieking. "What are you doing, cutting it?"

"I think she's in for it now," whispered Haddock with a chuckle, still listening intently.

"What a stupid notion!" Bianca was shouting. "Mending my coat? I'll have you know, girl, that coat is made from priceless Barguzin sable fur! If I wanted it repaired, I'd take it to the best tailor in the country! Certainly not you! Now, give it to me, and give it to me now!"

A door slammed loudly, and the sound of stomping feet grew closer. It sounded like Castafiore was walking down the stairs now. "It's ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous!" she shouted.

"She's coming," Haddock whispered, and both he and Tintin ducked down and began eating again.

They were just in time. A second later, Castafiore burst through the doors to the breakfast room, holding a fashion magazine and slapping it on her palm for emphasis. "Idiot girl!" she shrieked, her face crimson with fury. Tintin and the Captain turned around to face her. Haddock was doing his best to look sympathetic, but he was pretty sure that his smirk was showing.

Fortunately, Castafiore was too upset to notice. "Can you believe it?" she continued angrily. "Taking matters into her own hands like that! My priceless Barguzin sable coat! I should have her fired!"

"What happened, Signora?" asked Tintin politely, as if he didn't already know. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Bianca looked at Tintin and opened her mouth, doubtless to begin ranting about Irma's iniquities, when Professor Calculus walked through the doors to the breakfast room. "Good morning, all! What do-"

When he saw Castafiore, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Signora," he began carefully, "I'm not quite sure that I understand what's going on here."

Haddock turned white, remembering the misunderstanding in the greenhouse, when he had inadvertently told Calculus that Castafiore had 'gone away'. Realizing what a tenuous situation they were facing now, he carefully rose from his chair and opened his mouth to explain.

The Professor looked at Haddock carefully, looking annoyed. "My dear Captain, I must inform you that I have been deceived."

"Deceived? No, you haven't! I can explain!" began Haddock, desperately trying to avoid the inevitable. "It was just a misunderstanding-"

Calculus was turning pink now, fists clenched in anger. "Great sunspots! I was led to believe that Castafiore had gone away! A misunderstanding, Captain? I think not!"

Castafiore stood between the two, looking irritated and confused at the same time. Obviously, she had no conception of what was going on. "My good man," she began, addressing the Professor, "will you be so kind as to not interrupt other people's conversations?"

In any other situation, Calculus would have been fawning at Bianca's feet, but not now. Right now, he was angry. "Signora, until now I never realized that you were here, in this house!' He wheeled to face the Captain. "Because he deceived me!"

"I did nothing!" protested Haddock. "I said, I can explain!"

"Yes, the truth is plain, Captain! It is very plain!" He turned to Tintin angrily. "Tintin, how long has the signora been here?"

Tintin rose from his chair. "Only a day, Professor! I can assure you, any deception on the Captain's part was completely unintentional!"

Calculus turned to Haddock triumphantly. "See?" he declared. "Tintin is on my side!"

Tintin looked stunned. "No, I am not! I'm not on anyone's side!" Walking towards Calculus, he shouted, "It was a mistake, Professor! A mis-take!"

Castafiore was furious now. "My dear Professor," she shouted, "I am not a woman who accepts this kind of subordination from her social inferiors!"

Tintin rushed to her side. "Signora, it was a mistake! I'm sure you'll forgive our friend. He doesn't understand what's going on."

"No, and I don't believe I do, either!"

Poor Tintin, thought the Captain as he watched the scene. Always the diplomat. Blistering barnacles, he's going to get himself in trouble one of these days, trying to fix everything!

Haddock decided to step in. "Signora, the Professor is tired. Don't pay attention to what he says. A bit touched in the upper story. He got sunstroke the other day. Sunstroke- you know how it is…"

"My good man, it is the middle of December-" began Castafiore angrily, but Tintin cut her off.

"Signora, it was a mistake!" he said again.

Bianca veered to face Tintin. "Young man, if you interrupt me one more time…"

Captain Haddock didn't stay to hear the rest of her sentence. He was through. He was tired of arguing, he was tired of Castafiore and her entourage, and his headache was coming back to boot.

He was leaving.

Rushing to the kitchen, he called, "Nestor! Bring me my suitcase!"

Author's Note: What will happen next? Mwahahahaha!

As always, review if you liked it!