Chapter Eight

“It’s ridiculous, mun, for you to sleep on the floor,” Dafydd whispered into the room at large. “Idris’ crib takes up so much space that you’re like a pretzel down there.”

“I’m fine,” came the equally quiet reply. “And you should be asleep. Plus, you’ll wake the baby.”

Dafydd hung his head over the side and peered into the gloom. “It’s not enough to control my pills. You think to tell me when I have to sleep? And Idris is like a log once he’s down for the night.”

With a sigh, the doctor rolled onto his side and looked up. “I am not trying to rule your life, Dafydd. I simply meant it’s like one in the morning and I’m exhausted. Stay up all night, if you want, but please don’t disturb me.”

Dafydd made a face that he knew couldn’t be seen. “I was only concerned about your comfort.” He huffed and flopped back.

“That’s sweet of you, but really, I’m fine.”

Dafydd stared up at the ceiling. “Sweetness has nothing to do with. It’s a matter of knowing how hard my life can be when a man who is chopsy from lack of sleep controls it.”

There was a long sigh. “Oh, Dafydd, you know I would never hurt you, don’t you?”

He wanted to say he knew no such thing. It was hard, though. The earnestness of this man was too obvious to deny. Dafydd didn’t have it in him to be quite that mean. “Not intentionally, no, but not allowing me my nightly ritual isn’t exactly a kindness. I can’t sleep after all. I need another pill and some Scotch to wash it down.”

“No, you don’t. Tell me, how do you feel?”

“What do you care?” he shot back. When no answer came, he relented. “Calm, I suppose. Not sleepy, though, and that’s the point.”

“Those pills are meant to do just as you describe—reduce anxiety, not put you to sleep. It was the booze, frankly, that was causing you to pass out. I bet you’ve been waking with a wicked hangover. Plus mixing the two can actually bring on the symptoms of PTSD that Harry is trying to help you cope with.”

“So you say.” He resisted the urge to pound the bed in frustration. Know-it-all!

“I’m going to stand.”

“Why bother to tell me?”

“In order not to startle you.”

Damn the man for his consideration. He glowered at the figure that rose on the side of the bed. Bare-chested as he was, the doctor’s trim yet toned physique was easy to see. Dafydd’s eyesight was keener than a human’s, plus the moonlight shone in through the small windows of the cabin. Try as he might, he couldn’t work up too much anger. Quite the contrary, and the bit of pull he felt toward his new jailer irritated him.

“May I teach you a technique that’s very effective for getting to sleep? It works with daily anxiety, too.”

“Suit yourself. You don’t have to wear those silly pants, either. I’m used to seeing men’s naked bodies whether I want to or not.”

“They’re called sleep pants, and I’m being courteous to you. I’m not going to dangle my dick in your face without invitation.”

“You’ll have to wait a bloody long time, then. Eternity,” he bit out, hating his waspish behavior yet unable to rein it in.

“I understand, and that’s fine. May I help, please?”

“Like I said, suit yourself.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. The idea is to isolate small parts of your body from your head to your toes, tensing each one before relaxing it. Do you understand?”

“I suppose. Will you help?”

“Of course. I’ll walk you through it.”

“Are you going to do it standing there?”

“Where else? Do you want me farther away?”

Dafydd wrestled with the ridiculous notion rattling around his demented head before blurting out, “No, closer. Come lie down next to me.”

“Dafydd, I don’t think—”

“Well, neither do I, mun, but there it is. Being in this floating bedroom is giving me the shivers. I think, maybe, your being here helps. It’s stupid, I know.”

It was, too. The last thing he should want was a man lying beside him, crowding him against the wall, blocking his escape. And if he thought of it in terms of Dracul or any of his vicious men—or even some theoretical man—panic threatened to overwhelm him. It wasn’t so with this particular man, however, and the why of it mystified him.

“Not stupid. You’ve been dragged around a few times since Wales. I’m partly responsible for that. I can well understand your unease. I’m surprised my presence helps, yet also pleased to be of service. If you’re sure?”

By way of answer, Dafydd scooted over to make room on the bed. But he stared at the ceiling as Ric climbed up and lay down beside him. “How does this work, then?”

“We start with the head. Tighten up all of your facial muscles as hard as you can. Really scrunch them up. Now relax them again. Do the same with your neck, except be careful to keep your head and face relaxed while you do so. It’s hard. Do your best.”

Dafydd followed the instructions, although what he really concentrated on was the tone of Ric’s voice, low and soothing. Quietly encouraging. A balm to his nerves. Calm washed over him. By the time he’d finished scrunching up his toes, he’d drifted into the waiting darkness that for the first time didn’t seem so scary.

 

* * * *

 

“Good morning, Dafydd. Ric, if you’re finished eating, Alex would like for you to join us for a meeting in the pilot house.” Harry’s invitation was delivered with a relaxed air.

Dafydd’s stomach tightened regardless. He didn’t much like the idea of again being among all those aliens in a small space. What could they want with Ric anyway?

“I am,” Ric replied. “Dafydd?”

As his breakfast plate was scraped clean, the only possible answer was, “Yes.” His appetite had been keen after the most restful night he’d had since he could remember. Ric’s silly technique had helped. As had his presence, although Dafydd didn’t much like analyzing the whys and wherefores of that revelation.

He started to gesture toward Idris, who sat happily in his highchair, gorging on pieces of scrambled eggs and pancakes, but Harry had anticipated that possible delay.

“Demi, you’re on Idris duty for the next hour or so.”

“Yes, Papa.” The hybrid bopped over and took the seat next to the baby. “Hey, Idris, how’s breakfast going?”

The baby held up a fistful of food. “Yum!”

There was nothing for it, then. Dafydd stood and followed in Harry’s wake up the saloon steps and on to the airy room where the yacht was controlled. He could feel the steady presence of Ric behind him. That did help, which in turn soured his mood. There seemed to be no end to his conflicting feelings for the man. Now was not the time to dwell on any of that, however. He needed to stay alert for whatever this meeting was about.

All eyes turned to them the moment they entered. Dafydd shrunk back on instinct, bumping right into Ric. The man said nothing, nor did he move out of the way. Instead, he placed his palm lightly at the small of Dafydd’s back. It had the surprising effect of anchoring him. These scary men who echoed Dracul’s worst characteristics weren’t hard to face with Ric guiding him forward, staying at his back. Dafydd straightened his shoulders and didn’t avert his gaze as he usually would.

Alex waited until they had joined the group around the table before speaking. “Thank you for coming. This meeting is mostly about prevailing on Dr. Paz for more help, but we also hope Dafydd has information that will prove useful.”

“I’m game,” Ric replied, “so long as it doesn’t involve putting Dafydd at risk.”

The hard edge to the pleasantly stated words made Dafydd smile. He’s protecting me. He shouldn’t have been surprised, and he wasn’t. It just made him happy to experience this new sensation of someone having his interests at heart. It didn’t even matter if it was all part of some scheme to get into his bed. He understood those dynamics. They didn’t frighten him. More, deep down, he didn’t believe that was the case.

“Not at all, dear Doctor. We merely realize that Dafydd was made privy to Dracul’s modus operandi and that extra knowledge could prove useful in bringing down what’s left of his organization.” Alex stared at Dafydd with kindness. “He underestimated you, didn’t he?”

Dafydd lifted his chin, proud to be able to answer. “He did, yes.”

“His hubris got the better of him.” Alex tapped a print-out on the table in front of him. “What we need to do before exploring these smuggling caves is confirm whether this Mr. Moran, elderly as he may be, was and continues to be coopted by Dracul. So, the question is, can we do that without making him suspicious? Is there an easy way to make him think that someone such as Dr. Paz is in on the game in order to get him to spill his secrets?”

Ric leaned forward, keeping his palm in place. “You want me to pay dear old Scotty a visit?”

“If you don’t mind,” Alex replied.

“Not in the least. If nothing else, these older men who were out and proud even before being gay was no longer illegal are often interesting guys to talk to. I don’t mind dropping in on him for a chat.”

Alarm shot through Dafydd. “What if the caves are being used now? Won’t that mean whoever it is you seek is staying with this man? Ric would be in danger if he goes nosing around.”

Ric slid his hand up to gently cup the back of Dafydd’s neck. “It’s okay. I won’t be entirely alone, right?”

Val shook his head. “Nope. Duncan is arriving this afternoon and he’ll be your back-up. Plus, the rest of us will be here—listening, as always. If it looks dicey, we’ll be there pronto.”

Dafydd gasped. “How fast is that, exactly? You can’t fly, mun. And what use is a human compared to your alien strength? You think even that cop could be of help? Ric’s neck could be torn open in a blink of an eye. I’ve seen it done plenty, I assure you.” His breath started coming in great, heaving lungfuls. He blinked against his tunneling vision.

Ric’s thumb around his neck moved in slow circles. “Easy. It’s all right. There’s nothing to panic about. I’m here and safe. Nothing’s going to change that.”

The soothing words barely registered. A whimper passed his lips and he found himself turning to Ric and pressing against his body. He laid his forehead on the man’s shoulder and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. His heart raced and thudded against his chest, hard enough to burst.

Ric held him loosely in an embrace, running circles again across Dafydd’s back. “Shh, it’s okay. Honestly, guys, didn’t it occur to you to speak with me first?”

“My apologies, Doctor,” Alex said. “We misread the…‘situation’ between you.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Perhaps you would like to escort Dafydd down to the saloon and we can continue our discussion with only you.”

“No!” Dafydd pulled away and glared at the others. “You’ll not make plans without me.”

Ric cupped his face. “Of course we won’t. Would you like to sit down?” When Dafydd shook his head, he continued, “Then we need to know that dear Scotty is alone in the house when I approach him.”

Dafydd didn’t question his impulse to turn in Ric’s arms so that he faced the others and could lean against him. The doctor’s touch was proving to be more effective on his nerves than any amount of pills and liquor.

Val raised his eyebrows before saying. “We can do that. When he arrives, I’ll show Duncan how to work the heat-seeking equipment. I’ve modified it in particular to pick up traces of our physiology. He can do a recon before you approach the house.” The man’s gaze homed in on Dafydd. “Does that work for you?”

Being asked his opinion, to have it be counted as relevant, was a new experience. He almost believed he was imagining it.

“Yes,” he replied in a shaky voice that made him wince. “That will do,” he added more firmly.

Alex clasped his hands together. “Excellent. Now, to the issue of how the doctor gains entrance. Any suggestions?”

Dafydd gnawed at his lower lip as he considered what might help. “Usually, they used force and threats, nothing subtle or collegial.” Ric patted Dafydd’s hip where his fingers had landed, a subtle gesture of sympathy. “But Petru had always advocated a softer approach when they were setting up plans that were more long-term and uncertain. He used a combination of bribery and flattery—sex, too, of course, except it was the kind one would want to experience again.”

He made a face, couldn’t help it, then moved on to the part they were really interested in. “He called these boys ‘brown dwarfs’. I had no idea what it meant, at first, and frankly didn’t care. Eventually I looked it up and got the celestial reference, although I don’t know why he thought it was so clever. Anyway, I expect if Ric can somehow work the words into his greeting, this man would think of him as being an ally. Assuming he’s one of them to begin with.”

Ric’s warm breath tickled his ear. “If he isn’t, I’ll merely sound a bit odd. Either way, I hope he’s in the mood for company.”

“It’s settled, then,” Alex said with a nod. “Nothing much can be done before Duncan arrives. Thank you both for your time.”

Dafydd knew a dismissal when he heard one and was glad of it. Ric must have as well. He turned Dafydd and guided him out of the pilot house and back to the saloon. Every touch, every move, was free of any kind of demand or high-handedness. Ric’s behavior demonstrated caretaking, which wasn’t surprising. No, the amazing thing was that Dafydd instinctively perceived it in that benign way. He would have thought no amount of familiarity could change his view of the world in general—and men in particular.

What’s wrong with me? I should resent this.

He didn’t, though, and the peaceful feeling that went along with it was soothing. When he entered the saloon and caught sight of his son playing happily with his garage on the floor, it brought a smile to his lips.

“He’s going to wear that thing out before this journey is over.”

“If he does, I’ll buy him another one.”

The easy way in which Ric assumed they would continue to see something of each other was yet one more thing that he didn’t mind. “How has he been?” he asked Demi, who was down on the floor, as well.

“He’s been a very good boy, haven’t you, Idris?” By way of answer, the baby waved a car at Demi.

Mackie sat on the other side. “We’re all going to go to the beach soon. Want to come with?”

“Oh, um…” His instinctive reaction was to refuse. Then he remembered how he’d thought both he and Idris would enjoy it. “Why not? I’ve never been myself and I hear it’s quite fun.”

“It is,” Mackie confirmed. “We can make sandcastles and chase gulls and sandpipers, eat lobster rolls and fried clams. And there’s ice cream! Lots and lots of it,” he added, poking his finger into Idris’ belly.

His son giggled with delight, something Dafydd rarely saw or heard. Everyone is better with him than I am. Putting that useless thought aside, he resolved to throw himself full tilt into the day’s plans.

He turned to Ric. “Are you coming, too?”

“No.” He made an aborted movement to touch Dafydd’s face. “I want to discuss this surveillance in more detail with Val and Alex while we wait for Duncan to arrive. With any luck, I’ll have been in and out of Moran’s house before you return from your outing.”

Dafydd didn’t like the idea that he wasn’t going to be part of the monitoring done up in the pilot house. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he would stay onboard when Ric overrode his thoughts.

“Please do go without me. Playing on the beach is one of the happiest memories I have as a boy. Knowing you’re spending your day like that will make it easier for me to do what I have to. I don’t want you staying here and fretting over me.”

Dafydd huffed. “And what makes you think I would be?” He softened his words with a quick grin. Really, it was ridiculous how one night of good sleep was coloring his attitude.

Ric shook his head. “Dafydd, you aren’t nearly as mysterious or standoffish as you think you are. Have fun and have care. I’ll see you later for dinner.”

With that, the man turned and left. Dafydd watched his back for as long as he could, not very concerned that the others saw his interest.

 

* * * *

 

Duncan slipped back into the driver’s seat and placed the surveillance device on his lap. “Okay, the coast is clear, Doc. I can confirm that there aren’t any aliens inside the house. Only one seriously old man is shuffling about.”

Ric glanced down. “Does that thing actually tell you his age?”

“Naw, but he’s moving slowly so I did the math.” He shook his head once. “Hard to believe Dracul thought this far ahead or that an elderly human would still be loyal after decades of disuse.”

“If Dafydd says that’s what they did, then that’s what they did.”

Ric was surprised, and also not, that his first impulse was to defend the boy. After a torturous night of lying beside his heart’s desire, he was also a little cranky. Dafydd may have slept well—and thank God for it—but Ric had only catnapped, afraid he might roll too close in his sleep. His overtures toward Dafydd were going remarkably well. He didn’t want to fuck it all up by doing something stupid—like pressing his unavoidably hard dick against the poor guy.

Duncan held up his hand. “I’m not arguing the point. I’m just saying it wouldn’t have occurred to me. Are you ready to rock and roll?”

“I suppose. Do I look all right?” he asked, giving himself the once-over. He felt a little douchey in his Tommy Bahama Shadows in Paradise camp shirt and linen shorts. But paired with his Sperry Baitfish flip-flops, they would lend credence to his claim that he’d been walking along the beach and thought he’d drop in for a visit to this lovely cliffside home.

“Sure.” Duncan grinned. “I’d want to fuck you—if I were a ninety-year-old man. I’m certain you’ll have no trouble sweet-talking your way into the guy’s home.”

There was a snort from the speaker phone mounted on the car’s dashboard.

Ric glared at it. “No comment from the audience, if you please. I’m nervous enough as it is. The boys are safe, right?” He couldn’t help adding in that question, even though he knew the answer already.

“I can see them from here,” Val assured him. “Everyone’s taking a little lie-down under the beach umbrellas. Lucien is playing mother-hen and he has strict orders to keep them right there until I give the word. No worries, Doc. Your boy is safe. Both of them are.”

He almost denied that Dafydd and Idris were his, then realized that would be a ridiculous lie. Without saying anything, all the aliens had managed to convey to him their support and approval of his budding relationship with Dafydd. He only hoped their confidence in him was well-placed.

He flipped his Ray-Bans open and shoved them onto his face and opened the car door. Duncan had parked away from the house, so it meant a bit of a walk. He didn’t mind. In the waning heat of the day, it was glorious to be outside. He hoped he could come back to Putnam’s Cove sometime later in the summer for a real vacation. He could picture walking around town with Dafydd’s hand in his and pushing Idris in a stroller.

You’re getting ahead of yourself. That way leads to disappointment.

Moran’s house was a lovely two-story, rambling, shingle-style affair, accented with sea-foam green shutters and doors. It seemed too big for one person, although perhaps Moran had built it with plans of having a family one day. Yeah, of aliens.

The front boasted a small, manicured lawn surrounded by riotous flowers. Someone was keeping it up, and given the age of the owner, it must mean that he paid for the help. If Val’s information was accurate, Moran had no history of employment after the military and yet no discernable trust or other family money. Ric didn’t need to be a strategist or a super-smart alien to recognize the obvious. Moran had to be a kept man, and at his age, who could possibly continue to do that other than someone who lived far longer?

As he walked up to the front door, his palms began to sweat. He rubbed them on his shorts before ringing the bell. The sound of it was clearly audible, although after a few seconds of waiting, he heard nothing else. He tried it again, and still there was no response. Peering through the window beside the door proved to be no help. All he could see was a nicely-decorated entryway and, beyond that, an equally lovely living room. Everything looked expensive and neat, serving to bolster his suspicions about Moran—who wasn’t showing up to answer the door. Ric decided he needed to take a ballsier approach. No way Moran had tottered off in the few minutes it had taken Duncan to get back to the car.

So, Ric followed the slate walkway around the house, opened the gate leading to the backyard and ventured forth. He found Scotty Moran sitting at a wrought-iron table under an awning. He held a glass of some cloudy iced beverage in one hand, while the other stroked a fat tabby in his lap. His expression as he stared out at the ocean was serene until he heard Ric’s approach. Then there was nothing complacent or doddering about him.

“Who are you?” Old, yet sharp, eyes gave him an assessing look.

Ric smiled broadly and slowly took off his glasses in order for the man to see him better, and hopefully see nothing threatening. “I’m sorry, sir. I rang the bell.”

“And when I didn’t answer the front door, you decided to trespass around back? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners, or are you so pretty that you’re used to ignoring the rules?” The man’s look morphed to predatory.

Okay, Ric could work with that—had wished for it, actually. Notwithstanding the umbrage he’d taken at Duncan’s teasing, he understood his appeal and wasn’t above using the lure of sex to advance his agenda. “Can’t blame a boy for using what God gave him, can you?”

Scotty’s eyes lit up. “Do I detect a hint of the exotic Latin in you?”

“Yes, sir.” Ric enhanced his normally muted accent, given that it was working in his favor. He assumed an invitation, as well, closing the distance between them.

Scotty removed his hand from the cat and lifted it in greeting. Ric took the limp fingers and pressed his lips lightly to the knuckles. He tried to channel a bit of Antonio Banderas.

“My name is Ric, although some have referred to me as a brown dwarf.”

His host stiffened slightly and his nostrils flared. “You don’t say? I’m Scotty.”

“I’ve heard. You have a beautiful house. I was wandering along the beach and couldn’t resist dropping by for a visit.”

“A purely social call?”

“Yes. I hope that’s all right?”

“Oh, dearie, company is always welcome. Have a seat.” He waved to the chair on the other side of the table. “Would you like a nice, cold glass of Arnold Palmer? It’s my own special recipe with home-made iced tea and lemonade, spiked with vodka, don’t you know.”

“Thank you, that would be lovely. Shall I fetch a glass myself from the kitchen?” Val had said to try to scope out the house if possible.

“No, no. Sit. I’m not that old.” Shoving the cat off his lap, he stood with a steadiness and grace that belied his age.

Perhaps he’d been fed alien blood sufficiently to give him a longer, healthier life without fully changing him. There was such a lot for Ric to learn about this alien physiology. He waited patiently while Scotty rummaged around inside, returned and poured him his drink.

Ric took a sip and genuinely was able to appreciate it. “Delicious and refreshing. You’re very kind.” He shifted his gaze. “Your view is spectacular.”

“Isn’t it, though? I was lucky to snag this piece of land right after the war. The big one, you know. It was pretty wild along here at the time. Now, it’s all built out. There’s not as much elbow room and my neighbors have turned into the most frightful bores. It’s all families these days, can you imagine? I mean, was leading dreary bourgeois lives what Stonewall was all about?” He gave Ric the side-eye. “You don’t have children, do you?”

He thought of Idris then squashed it. “No. It doesn’t fit with the, um, program, does it?”

Scotty’s expression turned sly. “It does sometimes, I’ve heard. Not with me, though. Thank God.” He shuddered with exaggeration. “I saw once what too much of a good thing can lead to. You know, blood,” he mouthed. “A drop here or there can do wonders for a boy, of course.” He waved his hand down his body.

Okay, there was confirmation that Moran’s long life and relative robustness was from alien intervention. It was nothing like what had transpired with Dafydd, though.

“That was plenty for me. The rest of it struck me as disgusting. Who wants to be a girl?”

Ric drank some more before answering and tamped down his natural inclination to argue the point. Dafydd and the other changelings remained men by their own definition, even when they chose to undergo the transformation. Besides, Scotty’s catty remark was insulting to any and all genders. Dick.

But his mission was to coax information out of the guy, not get into a socio-political argument, so he went along with the sentiment. “It’s more of a commitment than I’m willing to make.” He forced himself to make a face.

“We’re of like minds there. Fortunately, I was given a choice. Such a relief. Or, possibly I was a little disappointed,” he allowed. “I confess I would have done anything for my man and it would have meant spending more time with him.” He moaned breathily. “To capture all that raw, masculine attention on a daily basis and to be filled with the biggest, most powerful cock in the world…” He moaned again. “What more could a boy want?”

Ric nearly choked on his drink. He turned it into a chuckle. “I couldn’t have put it better. We’re very lucky. A little loyalty and devotion is a fair price to pay, no matter how long it takes for the bill to come due.”

“Sister, you’ve got that right.” Scotty sighed. “It’s hard, though. I must confess to have lost my own allure.” He ran a hand along his slightly wrinkled neck. “I’m not the ingénue I used to be, although I had a good run. Longer than most, so mustn’t grumble. At least my replacement, whoever that might be, isn’t being waved in my face.”

Ric considered his next question carefully. “No visits?”

Scotty rolled his eyes. “Not after the recent initial one and brief reunion. He barely stayed five minutes and there was no fun to be had.” He fluttered his hand. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. There’s no reason to, given that my ass isn’t worth reaming and there are younger, prettier mouths to choke his cock with.”

There was a small sniffle, and Ric found that he felt sorry for the man. Scotty had once been seduced by the baddest of bad boys but might never have understood that he was being used by aliens to wreak havoc on the world—or, not to the degree that had been going on. He might have convinced himself that he was playing out some sci-fi fantasy, especially when there’d been no public acknowledgment that some kind of invasion was occurring.

“Say, you’re not my replacement, are you?” Scotty’s eyes narrowed and it made Ric reassess how innocent the man really was.

Holding up his hand, Ric said, “No. I swear. I’m with someone else.” That was certainly true. “I’m simply at loose ends here in Putnam’s Cove and thought getting acquainted with you would be fun. I mean, I’m not on duty much until nightfall,” he added with a smirk.

That seemed to do the trick. Scotty’s suspicious expression disappeared.

“Hmm. One thing I have to admit is that no work and all play has made my life very agreeable. I’ve never been lonely up here. I have, to this day, plenty of scrumptious young things more than happy to let me suck their cock or willing to fuck my ass, for that matter. It’s not the same, but it’s hardly nothing.” He gave Ric the side-eye. “I don’t suppose—”

“Sorry.” Once again, Ric both sputtered on his mouthful of spiked Arnold Palmer and held up his hand. “I am not at liberty to play with anyone other than the one.” That was the truth of it. Since meeting Dafydd, he had no interest in other men.

“Pity. You’ll stay and keep an old soul company for a while, though, won’t you?”

Although he figured he’d gathered the information needed, it didn’t hurt to indulge the man. Duncan was monitoring the place. If any of Dracul’s men showed up, Val could warn him. The wire he wore included an earpiece for them to talk to him. There was a risk, of course, and he had promised Dafydd that he’d be careful. And yet, he sensed in Scotty a loneliness, for all his bravado, that would never be satisfied with mere human company—and platonic at that. In some sense, the man was as much a victim of Dracul’s ambition as any other human who’d gotten in the way. Ric would try, nevertheless. Compassion was an important distinction between him and the aliens he helped to fight. He couldn’t lose sight of that.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my afternoon,” he said, lifting his glass in the man’s direction.