His eyes cut quickly to the shoes in her hand, then away again. The sparkle of them strikes him now as something lurid, the height of them somehow obscenely tall. He tries not to picture her in them, writhing on some garish stage, and only partially succeeds.

When she asks the question, he nods. Unless you're going to throw it against the wall again, he thinks, even as he knows it's unpleasant in a way he tries hard not to be--even where Galaxy Stern is concerned.

"If you want it." Darlington picks up his own glass, just for the sake of something to hold. "If you were inclined to stay."