Ginny's eyes followed the gin in the bottle up and over, watching it disappear and then slosh around as the bottle banged down onto the bar again.

"That's quite enough," she said stiffly, attempting to wrestle it from Stu's hand. It was no use; his hands were monstrously strong from years of passive-aggressive drinking. She gave up after a moment of breathless tugging. "You're going to kill yourself, is that it? Brilliant plan, you mung kov."

She slapped the back of his head in a rebuking sort of way. His expression didn't change; he probably hadn't felt it.

Sliding herself up onto the bar, she sat with her legs dangling and her long fingers crossed, staring at the floor. The young witch had been dreading this day for years. She didn't usually bother to reason with him when he was like this, let alone comfort him, but something about the defeated look in his eyes scared her a bit.

"It's not...the end of the world," she reasoned quietly. "Maybe she was just so...er...blown away that she didn't...quite know what to say. She's probably quite pleased."

From the look on his face, that wasn't going to work. Smoothly as a street dealer, Ginny changed tack. "She'll have forgotten about it by morning," she assured him. "This'll be one of those funny things that never come to light again. After all, you didn't actually say it. She just assumed...right?"

Biting her lip, she reached out to touch his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt felt damp.

"I mean, it's a lot to take in," she said. "If someone told ME they'd been in love with me for years, I'd probably laugh at their face. But I bet she's not angry, Stu. I bet if you tried...now that it's all out, I mean, if you tried..."

Stu's eyes drooped, and the corners of his mouth twitched. He was too drunk to speak.

Ginny frowned.

"Stop feelin' sorry for yourself," she said, slapping him again. "You're useless like this. What if someone came in here lookin' for sanctuary? What if we got wounded in? You'd be just a worthless lugger right now. I don't got nothin' against Fi, but clock if she don't turn you into a sad sack!"

Breathing hard, she slipped off the bar and turned to face him. Her face was red from frustration, and she opened her mouth to continue yelling at him. But before she could speak, Stu lifted a finger to her lips and made a shushing sound. She blinked.

"You're right," he slurred. "No...you're right. She don't love me an' she never will."

Ginny's forehead wrinkled in concern.

"I'm goin' deeper in," he said emphatically. The witch made a small noise of protest, knowing exactly what that phrase meant. "Enough o' this. I keep skirtin' the lines, you know, hopin' to have a normal life one day. Don't really know what I thought I'd do...settle down, have a coupl'a kids? House in the country?"

He spat, tossing the bottle aside. It smashed against the wall, and Ginny jumped.

There was a span of silence. Stu's mind retraced once more the painful steps through his encounter with Fion - her tired face, the pristine mansion, the sad look in her eyes as she mentioned the chores she'd been doing...he felt her pain, and the pain of every human in the city, in the kingdom, in the whole world.

"We're at war," he said finally. "I'm never goin' to have that life. I don't know what's taken me so clockin' long to figure it out." He exhaled, as though he'd been holding his breath. Strange feelings were coursing through him. He felt rebellious, angry, restless. Suddenly the bar seemed far too small for him.

"Stu," pleaded Ginny, "think about this for a bit. We're not in the party for a reason. We chose that for a reason." She felt a tug of panic in her chest, imagining Stu fighting in the resistance, his dishwasher hands clutching a rifle, bleeding in the street.

He put a hand on hers; looking up at him, she realized how sincere he was. Tears began welling up in her green eyes, and for the second time in a month she cried into his shirt.