Hershie watched the car approach with nauseous dread. The Patron stopped a few centimetres from him, so they were almost eyeball-to-eyeball. The hoverchair's PA popped to life, and the Patron spoke, in the bugouts' thrilling contralto.
"Thank you for your contribution," the bugout said. "It was refreshing to have another perspective presented."
Hershie tried for a heroic nod. "I'm glad you weren't offended."
"On the contrary, it was stimulating. I shall have to speak with the conference's organisers; this format seems a good one for future engagements."
Hershie felt his expression slipping, sliding towards slack-jawed incredulity. He struggled to hold it, then lost it entirely when one of the Patron's silvery eyes drooped closed in an unmistakable wink.
#
"Hi, Mama."
"Hershie, I just saw it on the television."
He cringed back from his comm as he shrank deeper into the corner of the
Belquees that he'd moved to when his comm rang.
"Mama, it's all right. They've signed me for the full six months. I'll be fine —"