When Chronic and Barry arrived, the battle rows were already assembled.
  "Good, we haven't missed the openings," said Chronic as they sat on the hillside, setting a picnic basket on the slope. He seemed different, composed.
  "What's this, the war of 1812?" joked Barry.
  "French Revolution, perfect for dining. Down there you get a better look," Chronic pointed towards a cluster of trees, "But we can see all right from back here. Won't get any debris in the lemon meringue."
  "Don't you think it's a little inappropriate, to dine while they're fighting?" asked Barry.