Caught her. She'd done well enough the first time, his guess more luck than skill. It felt cruel to catch her twice in a row, but he had been very kind the first time.
Beauregard, with utter conviction, reached to her plate to smear his finger into the sauce, rounding out the "R" to a "B."
Then he bought it to his mouth again, staring her down as he lapped his finger clean. This was a show of confidence, of course, but even the barest heat initially frightened him. (She could have been acting suspicious on purpose, after all.) But, just as last time, he'd found her out.
"Rika!" he gasped. "You would have given me the poison plate!"