"The truth is, Stone, that I no longer know the first thing about you or your life. And I think I'd like to."
" 'Had we but world enough, and time.'" He smiled "We'll get around to the catching up, but I don't flatter myself that you asked me down at this hour to reminisce about our respective pasts."
"You've already got me figured out." She made a face. "I don't know whether I like that or not. By the way, would you care for something? You used to like scotch, right?"
"The operative part of that statement is 'used to.' These days I try to avoid anything harder than beer. I was starting to have an ethanol dependency problem. I think it's a common occupational hazard for a reporter."
"I don't keep beer around. It's fattening. How about some diet cranberry juice?"
"Maybe I'll have that scotch after all." He laughed. "I have a feeling it might be more suited to the occasion."
"Know what, I think I'll join you." She walked into the kitchen and started making the drinks. "On the rocks, right?"
"Good memory."
"Stone, I asked you down because I've got to make a big decision." She was bringing the drinks into the living room. "Tonight. You're the closest thing I've got to a knowledgeable sounding board. You have some idea of the risks and rewards here. So do I check into the Dorian Institute and let them start injecting doctored‑up stem cells into me or not? Turns out that's what Van de Vliet wants to do."
"We're in worse trouble than we thought." He took a scotch. "You've at least seen the place. I don't have a shred of actual physical evidence that those clinical trials are producing results. I can make inferences from what I see on the Web site, but it's nothing you can take to the bank." He ventured a sip, then looked up. "By the way, did you get a chance to ask about the patient who got dropped?"