Boiling the bastard put an end to it. Now let the Cretans take their fleet and piss off home. You won’t get Minos’ prize for fancy threadwork now but then he didn’t collect your head – for all your needling. You pull such tricks on me I’ll have your arms torn off. Now the wide Aegean knows how smart you are do you feel better? You’d better smarten up. I won’t work on your vanity as Minos did. I don’t like killing guests but I won’t take threats at home. That’s finished. Now you. Minos didn’t give a fuck who you’d killed, saw just the insecurity that mothered your inventions; worked on that which backfired nicely as your lust for admiration got you pandering to his queen. You’re smarting from that folly. No I didn’t buy that featherweight story of your flight from the island bearing your son‘s body in arms you’d fastened feathers to. And don’t think anyone else did. Another slap for Minos. I suppose you hadn’t seen that spreading blatant lies implied your covering for his queen. You might as well have said straight off she helped you out of Crete. No wonder he came after you with an intricate puzzle and a pike to put your head on. Put your brains on this.