"And nights to match."
"You said it." He gulped half his beer. "My name's Karsh. Mr. Karsh. Yep, Mr. Karsh. Boy, this is a drag, sitting around this place waiting...."
"You meeting somebody?"
"Yeah. Bunch of babies. Kids. How they expect—Never mind. Have one on me."
"Thanks. You a Scoutmaster?"
"I'll tell you what I am. I'm a cradle-robber. You know—" he turned to Retief—"not one of those kids is over eighteen." He hiccupped. "Students, you know. Never saw a student with a beard, did you?"
"Lots of times. You're meeting the students, are you?"
The young fellow blinked at Retief. "Oh, you know about it, huh?"
"I represent MUDDLE."
Karsh finished his beer, ordered another. "I came on ahead. Sort of an advance guard for the kids. I trained 'em myself. Treated it like a game, but they can handle a CSU. Don't know how they'll act under pressure. If I had my old platoon—"