"No, thanks. This will do me fine." He drank it and set the empty glass on the floor. Jen drank off the last of hers and put her glass next to his. "Relax," she said. "I'm not going to bite you." She lay back and her dressing gown opened in a V as far as the belt. She obviously wasn't wearing anything under the gown. Don looked away self-consciously. Jen laughed. "What's the matter, boy? No red blood?" She rolled herself off the end of the bed and went to the dresser. "Another drink?" "Don't you think you've had enough?" She shook her red hair violently. "Drinking is as drinking does. Trouble is, nobody's doing anything." "Exactly. Everybody's acting as if Superior's one big pleasure dome. Civek's on the throne and all's well with his little world. Even you've joined the parade. Why? I don't buy that double-agent explanation." She was looking in the bureau mirror at the reflection of the top of her head, peering up from under her eyebrows. "I'm going to have to touch up the tresses pretty soon or I won't be a redhead any more." She looked at his reflection. "You don't like me, do you, Donny-boy?" "I never said that." "You don't have to say it. But I don't blame you. I don't like myself sometimes. I'm a cold fish. A cold, dedicated fish. Or I was. I've decided to change my ways." "I can see that." "Can you?" She turned around and leaned against the bureau, holding her glass. "How do you see me now?" "As an attractive woman with a glass in her hand. I wonder which is doing the talking." "Rhetorical questions at this time of night, Donny? I think it's me talking, not the whisky. We'll know better in the sober light of morning, won't we?" "If that's an invitation," Don began, "I'm afraid--" Her eyes blazed at him. "I think you're the rudest man I ever met. _And_ the most boorish." She tossed off the rest of her drink, then began to cry. "Now, Jen--" He went to her and patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Oh, Don." She put her head against his chest and wept. His arms automatically went around her, comfortingly. Then he realized that Jen's muffled sobs were going direct to the Pentagon through his transceiver. That piece of electronics equipment taped to his skin, he told himself, was the least of the reasons why he could not have accepted Jen's invitation--if it had been an invitation. He lifted her chin from his chest to spare the man in the Pentagon any further sobs, which must have been reaching him in crescendo. Jen's face was tear-stained. She looked into his eyes for a second, then fastened her mouth firmly on his. There was nothing a gentleman could do, Don thought, except return the kiss. Rude, was he? Jen broke away first. "What's that?" she said. Don opened his eyes and his glance went automatically to the door. It would not have surprised him to see King Hector coming through it in his royal night clothes. But Jen was staring out the window. He turned.