Don Juan's question made him laugh, just enough that he might feel it by the movement of Samuel's shoulders and chest. "At times I am," he answered, his smile somewhere in the dark.
The man seemed to be intent to melt into his side, and Sam found his utter, vulnerable passivity unnerving. Perhaps there was little someone could do to him that would hurt him; as numb as he was. Samuel resented that he did not feel repelled by the slow, unsteady breath he felt on the skin of his neck when Don Juan had blearily lifted his head a little to address him. What did it say about him if he found even a shred of comfort in the warmth that emanated from the body that leaned helplessly against him? It was pathetic, Samuel thought grimly.
Suddenly, he became aware that steps approached the paper walls that enclosed them. A drink—he had ordered a drink. Unceremoniously, Samuel pushed the incapacitated man from the bench and under the table, where he felt him fall against his legs.
"Be good and be quiet," he instructed him. The barkeep appeared at the table and set down his drink. "Wanted to warn you, Mr., 'twas a certain fellow in here," the man said and looked around suspiciously.
Samuel's hand found what felt like a face at his knee, and he touched it, reassuringly and warningly. He needed to avoid being seen too close for propriety with the Dempsey brother of ill repute in The Orchid, a place shrouded from polite society's view, but nonetheless public. It was wise, he was now ever more acutely aware, to have no public association with him at all. Being close to Don Juan spelled trouble, and then some
"There was no one here", he lied.
The man seemed to be intent to melt into his side, and Sam found his utter, vulnerable passivity unnerving. Perhaps there was little someone could do to him that would hurt him; as numb as he was. Samuel resented that he did not feel repelled by the slow, unsteady breath he felt on the skin of his neck when Don Juan had blearily lifted his head a little to address him. What did it say about him if he found even a shred of comfort in the warmth that emanated from the body that leaned helplessly against him? It was pathetic, Samuel thought grimly.
Suddenly, he became aware that steps approached the paper walls that enclosed them. A drink—he had ordered a drink. Unceremoniously, Samuel pushed the incapacitated man from the bench and under the table, where he felt him fall against his legs.
"Be good and be quiet," he instructed him. The barkeep appeared at the table and set down his drink. "Wanted to warn you, Mr., 'twas a certain fellow in here," the man said and looked around suspiciously.
Samuel's hand found what felt like a face at his knee, and he touched it, reassuringly and warningly. He needed to avoid being seen too close for propriety with the Dempsey brother of ill repute in The Orchid, a place shrouded from polite society's view, but nonetheless public. It was wise, he was now ever more acutely aware, to have no public association with him at all. Being close to Don Juan spelled trouble, and then some
"There was no one here", he lied.
