"I told you it was a bad bad bad business," said Campion necking another whiskey, almost wiling himself into the kind of drunken state where secrets spilled easily from lips like streams. If he squinted, Campion could almost pretend he was there.

"And don't...please don't tell me that what I did was wrong and disgusting because I know all of that. I really do...I've though of nothing else...apart from when I think about how...well,good it was." That, he thought as his mind caught up with his mouth, was definitely the wrong thing to say.

More whiskey. "But, the way I see it. No one has to know, really. I left and as far as she's concerned that can pretty much be the end of it, right?"

Dom scratched his chin and suppressed a burp. "Sounds orright t'me old boy. But it doesn't quite seem like you'll be... uh... forgettings... forgoing... forgetting things. Anytime. Soon." He stared at his empty mug, and glanced at Campion, who had taken over the bottle. Damn.

"What's a man gotta do t'get some service around here. Bar. Barkeep! I say! Barkeep! I'm pos- pre... presumptively parched. Yes parched." He banged his mug on the table noisily.

"Hmffgn. Dames." Dom said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "Absolutely... useless, most of them. But some of them." He shook his head. "Get under your skin. None under. None. None under mine yet, sir. It's an itch I'd. um. An itch I'd rather not...Scratch."

Was that right? It sounded off. "Look just don't. Worry about it or anything."

Gannon swelled up like an angered bull at Dom's hollering. The banging made his eyebrow twitch. A heavy mixture of vodka and observation and time had brought him back to himself and he glowered at the galdori pair with his pitch eye. "Unless you want to steal the bottle back from your friend there," he barked, nearly baring his teeth, "You'll have to pay for more. I've half a mind to cut you two off. Don't want no drunken gollies burning my tavern to the ground with some miscast parlor tricks."

Grouchy bartender had returned.