Sean thought that for a brandy connoisseur, Viggo sure had some uncomfortable and decidedly un-connoisseur-like furniture. Aged leather armchair? Try worn-out sofa.

"Last one, Sean, I promise. So?"

He put down the snifter -- his sixth? seventh? -- and tried to contemplate. As best he could, anyway, what with Viggo perched right next to him, so close, all excited and eager about his latest purchases...

"Sean?"

"Errr. Cloves? Cinnamon. Wait... vanilla!"

"And... ?"

Ah yes, the final note. And the perfect finish. Savour it...

Sean slowly opened his eyes, smiled, and slid himself invitingly down the length of the sofa. "Wood."