It was a good bit later in the day for Pippa, Venice being hours ahead of New York, and the gaffer was currently waging war against one determined feline and just who had divine province over the pillows lining the head of bed. "Now listen here, Tiberius, this is not your bed. Not. Your. Bed. For heaven's sake...will you just scoot now?"

In response to her lecture, the fat tom curled himself up right in the center of her pillow and closed his eyes. "I loathe you--" Pippa spat in Italian just as her phone rang, cutting her tirade short. "Pronto!"

She hadn't bothered to check the display, she merely wanted to answer before the loud ring tone (music, the opening bars to her current favorite song) woke Signore Alessandro.