Clearing out skeletons — was that what she had been doing? Don Juan doubted her impromptu confession was all it would take to flush the incident from her subconscious, but maybe there was still something liberating in having said it. Even if it was only getting to watch his reaction and confirming her own sense of it... confirmation that yes, that was entirely fucked up, you're not overreacting. That was something, having the litmus test of something external to yourself.

Did he have any skeletons he wanted to air? Don Juan handed her the drink and ran his tongue over his teeth while he thought. He certainly had baggage — mountains of it — but he wasn't sure it would benefit from the same treatment. Half of it was already common knowledge, anyway... or at least some version of it was, and the public version made it impossible to talk about his perception of the same events. Once one had built up a reputation like his, the persona was not so easily discarded on a whim.

"If you're wondering which married woman I'm currently sleeping with I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," he said with a smile and a light shrug. Dodging the question with a glib remark was safer than anything else. "I'm more discreet than my reputation would suggest. These days, anyway."

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