Don Juan heard the words, but didn't register them as a threat, or even as the beginning of a lecture, though people had lectured him with phrases like this before. In his current state of mind he presumed them foreplay: I could do anything to you. If he had been slightly closer to sober he might have answered, either with words or with an indistinct purr of agreement, but his eyes were glassy and the room seemed distant. He made an effort to nod and wasn't sure if he'd managed it. The stranger would have to do what he wanted without input, if he was going to proceed; Don Juan was distantly aware he would make a very poor bedfellow at the moment.

He was in contact with someone, all up his left side. He was incoherent enough to assume this shift was an intentional move by the stranger, rather than recognizing that he'd merely slumped here. He closed his eyes and leaned in to the man's shoulder. There was something odd about his smell, a metallic undercurrent to it.

This second remark was a strange thing to say. Don Juan wondered if it was meant to be funny. He didn't get the joke, but given how high he was that wasn't exactly surprising. "Are you an unlikable person?" he asked. He did not dare to hope that this was a clever thing to say, but perhaps if luck was on his side it would make the stranger chuckle anyway.

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   Samuel Griffith