The Wabbit was having a hop through the Palazzo Barberini Museum. It was full of fantastic old pictures which he fully appreciated - so he'd told no-one otherwise his friends would give him chapter and verse. He especially liked Judith beheading Holofernes by Caravaggio - which he found a little horrific. "Theatrically lit," he murmured. Then he smiled. He found his way to the museum caffè, which was quite a grand affair. He looked up. "Solar panels?" he mused. "Most intriguing." He mentally placed the museum on his private list, then called for a prosecco. "Subito, Commander," said a waiter and indicated a seat. "No-one is supposed to know I'm here," said the Wabbit. "I won't tell a soul," replied the waiter. The Wabbit sat down. He felt peckish. "Do you have a salad club sandwich?" he asked. "Best in town," said the waiter. The sandwich was huge. He devoured it with gusto and beckoned for the waiter to return. "Did Caravaggio like sandwiches?" "Oh yes," replied the waiter, "especially artichoke panini." The Wabbit indicated he would like one. "It's called a Caravaggio Club," said the waiter. He brought one and another glass of prosecco. He paused. "Commander, about that painting poking out of your fur?" "My goodness," said the Wabbit. "I thought something was uncomfortable."
