[Provocation? By the fanciful lie of a vagrant fool?]

The eyeball popped out into his palm, bringing a choking sound from the others who were apparently unaware of the Poet's artificial orb.
"Watch him carefully," said the Poet to the glass eye, and then deposited it on the upturned base of his wine cup where it stared balefully at the officer. "Good evening, m'Lords," he said cheerfully to the group, and marched away.

~ aCfL