.10.

"So, I must tell you," Christine began, her attempted British dialect, ironically, worse, if possible, now that she was sober, "that when I first met you... chaps... I thought that you were completely full of shit, and that you probably lived right down the street."

I glanced at Adam and chuckled. It was a British chuckle. His eyes had that sharp edge to them that they usually did, especially when we were engaged, as we most often were, in such nonsense and tomfoolery. But there was also a hint of that panic that he had managed to keep fairly well hidden since those first several moments at the St. James. I knew if I was to get him, I had to act right then.

"Well, I've got to tell you," I began, "You're a very perceptive person. You're not too far off at all."

I glanced at Adam, and held a pause for as long as I could stomach it.

"We are completely full of shit, I'll give you that much."

Adam recovered in no time.

"Yeah," says he, "One out of two's not bad."

We all had a good laugh and before you knew it, the food had arrived. We began to gorge ourselves on the delicious breadsticks and various fried appetizers.

And then I caught the panic in his eyes. Deep. Worse than before. Worse even than the previous night at the bar. He motioned ever so slightly for me to lean over towards him. I did. He leaned in close to my ear, his lips almost touching me. He whispered something so low a bat wouldn't have been able to pick it up.

"What?" I whispered back.

He attempted again, only raising his volume slightly. I couldn't make it all out, but the pieces I got caused the panic to fill into my eyes, too, I'm sure. It swept through my body so that I went completely warm and numb all over at the same time.

I cast my gaze cautiously around the table so as not to seem conspicuous, and then I turned my head slightly to get a better view of the table behind us.

A tall woman wearing a straw colored hat and wire-rimmed glasses sat facing our direction. Across from her sat a shorter woman already working on a glass of blush wine. The tall lady was telling her friend, we shall assume, a story about an encounter she had earlier that day.

She spoke in the most beautiful British accent.