"Hobby? What do you do on weekends?"
"Golf." A few pen strokes and a driver curled around the subject's neck, the ball untouched on the tee.
"Tennis." A racquet appeared with strings burst by an opponent's serve. Two or three minutes and he was done, asking each person's name, titling the drawing beneath its over-sized head, signing it and wrapping it in clear plastic. He was magician and entertainer, eyes blue and shrewd, working hard, keeping the crowd alive. It was six o'clock before Joe realized it. He scooted back to the Moana.
"Glenlivet and water, please, Gilbert."
Joe raised his glass in Gilbert's direction. "Here's to friends."
"Oh, you have some?"
"Yok, Gilbert." Mo appeared. "See?"
"See what?" she asked.
"Sorry, I was talking to Gilbert. You are my friend, aren't you?"
"How long have you been here?"