[The hand with his wine glass is attached to the arm that he puts around her shoulder, all very fluid and without spilling a drop. They're a natural fit, sat like this. The plate of food he safely transfers to the space just beside him for now. As hungry as he'd said--as hungry as he is--this is preferable, for the moment.]

I find the sound of rowing comforting. Like a lullaby. Don't tell me you don't feel the same about endless questions. 'Scoutmaster, scoutmaster, what do we do next?