I don't give the snake enough credit. It sees and watches, as it always has. It's seen more than I thought. It knows more than I thought.

Maybe it notices the smile in the lamb's eyes. Maybe the folds of the lamb's shirt that have started to form. Folds that mean he's worn it before. Folds that mean maybe he's not as experienced as he lets on. Maybe the lamb's words give it away as a lamb instead of a lion.

"I must say that this is one of the finest birthday parties that I've ever been to. The food is wonderful." A glow. The glow gives him away. 10 seconds. Two sentences are thrown into the wind from the lamb to the snake. That's all it takes for the snake to lose interest.

I can tell that the snake sees the lamb for what it is now. Unlike the lions, the snake cares nothing for newness. It cares only for power and the lamb can provide none of that.

Slowly and softly, the snake slides it's arm from behind my back. It's eyes flick around the room, hoping to find a more interesting snack.

"Louis isn't that your manager. You should go say hello at some point. Tell me when you do, you know how I just adore Mr. Cowell," The snake hisses. A final jab. The lamb is startled, I can tell. It catches itself quickly, however.

Soon enough, the snake slithers away.