"Not again!" Sadie edges away from the wine barrel as if she expects it to start spewing its revolting contents into her eyes like some sort of pudgy, wooden cobra. Her legs soon collide with Augustine, who has crouched behind her, fur bristling and muzzle wrinkled in a snarl of distaste. "Oh, Frank, what if that's all there is?" she cries, still haunted by that horrible incident with Bacchus.