"Yes," she said softly.
"And told you to bring your overnight bag along," he added brutally.
Dian looked into his face. "Why are you twisting yourself, your inner-self, so hard, Don? Of course I'd come—if that's what you wanted."
"And then," he said flatly, "suppose I kicked you out in the morning?"
Dian winced, but she kept her eyes even with his, her own moist now. "You forget," she whispered. "You have been awarded the Galactic Medal of Honor, the bearer of which can do no wrong."
"Oh, God," Don muttered. He filled his glass, still again, motioned to a nearby waiter.
"Yes, sir," the waiter said.
Don said, "Look, in about five minutes I'm going to pass out. See that I get back to my hotel, will you? And that this young lady gets to her home. And, waiter, just send my bill to the hotel too."
The other bowed. "The owner's instructions, sir, are that Captain Mathers must never see a bill in this establishment."
Dian said, "Don!"