"It's more to the point what's running through his."

"Yeah. Yeah. I had this dream."

"Did you?"

"I was the one sitting out on the ledge in my underwear."

"Boxers or briefs?"

It made him laugh. "Boxers. Anyway, I was sitting on the ledge and you were sitting there with me."

"Are you feeling suicidal?"

"Not a bit."

"It's called transference. You're putting yourself in his place. It was a traumatic experience, for you as well as Joe, even though it ended well."

"Have you ever had one that didn't?"

"Yes."

He nodded, and didn't ask for details. "What do you call me having you stuck in my mind? Wishful thinking?"

"That would depend on what you're wishing for."

"I started to Google you."

She sat back now, raised her eyebrows.

"I thought, sure it's a shortcut, a curiosity-satisfying one. But sometimes you want to go the long way around. You get to find out about somebody from the source, maybe over some type of food or drink. And if you're wondering, yes, I'm hitting on you."

"I'm a trained observer. I don't have to wonder when I know. I appreciate the honesty, and the interest, but-"

"Don't say 'but,' not right off the bat." He bent down, picked up a hairpin that must have fallen out of her hair earlier, handed it to her. "You could consider it a public service. I'm the public. We could exchange life stories over that some sort of food and drink. You could name the time and the place. We don't like what we hear, what's the harm?"

She dropped the hairpin in with her paper clips. "Now you're negotiating."

"I'm pretty good at it. I could just buy you a drink. That's whatthirty minutes? A lot of people spend more time than that picking out a pair of shoes. Half an hour after you're finished work, or off-duty, whatever you call it."

"I can't tonight. I have plans."

"Any night in the foreseeable future you don't have plans?"