[Renfri's approval is like a thick woolen blanket draped around his shoulders on a briskly chilled day of rain, or the mug of tea he might warm his hands with underneath it. Paul squeezes her elbows and lets her go, stepping back for breathing room. There's no need to smother.]

I regret nothing, tonight or tomorrow.

[Something else he can put down to a lack of foresight later. Paul straightens his already straight vest (still not as comfortable in this kind of skin as she is) and grins, with softness lingering in his eyes just a little. He's done the right thing - he's managed to make her happy, and all it took was trying to be so himself.

It's easy, when he thinks about it like that.]

And I'm still young tonight, and so are you - we should have a drink. Have you ever heard of tequila?

[Has a bandit-bartender ever heard of tequila?]