Porthos: The Incident with the Flower: Epilogue
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The days that were to follow would be a period of sadness and retribution.  The remainder of the men, aching and bleeding, would take refuge under the sanctuary of Marguerite’s hospitality.  Many would weep at the extent of their losses.  However, none would weep so deeply as M. Treville on the day he received our Hero’s triumphant return.     


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Porthos: The Incident with the Flower: Part 2C
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Chapters 13 - 16


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Porthos: The Incident with the Flower: Part 2B
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Porthos: The Incident with the Flower: Part 2A
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PART II:  NOW COME THE SECOND
Chapters 1 - 6


Chapter One: Consultation Between Friends


“I didn’t realize we had a male prostitute division.”  This keen observation issued forth from the pouting lips of our Hero’s other left hand, M. D’Artagnan.  


Immediately prior, our Hero, Porthos, had found himself with a potential lead in his custody, and recognized that further measures would require an approach more nuanced than his own.  Keeping that thought firmly in mind, he proceeded from the whorehouse, sometime before dawn, directly to the current living quarters of his good friend M. D’Artagnan.  


After several loud knocks, his efforts were met by an elderly tenant, who quietly took measure of our Hero’s height, width, girth, sword, suspect companion and maniac expression, and did not issue a word of protest when a large hand appeared to encompass the width of his entire head, and he found himself gently brushed aside. 


Porthos took the stairs to his friend’s bedroom in two bounds.  “D’Artagnan!  I need your-” And with those words, he burst into the room to catch a disgruntled D’Artagnan mid stroke.  Their eyes met at a mutual point of axis, which proceeded to wilt.  His friend did not appear altogether pleased to see him.


“Could this not have waited until morning?”


“It is morning.”


“I meant at a more reasonable hour.”


Porthos’ expression did not alter.  “Is this an emergency?”  D’Artagnan continued.


“Yes.”


D’Artagnan paused.  He suspected that he was the only one feeling uncomfortable.  “I am rather occupied at the moment.”


Porthos did a quick calculation.  “That would occupy me at most ten minutes.”


“Then I will need twenty,” D’Artagnan insisted.  And our Hero, acquiescing, retreated. 


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Porthos: The Incident with the Flower: Part 1
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