"Because you don't turn anybody else down."

"Not so consistently." Yay nodded, frowning at her drink.

"So; why not?" There. He'd finally said it.

Yay pursed her lips. "Because," she said, looking up at him, "it matters to you."

"Ah," he nodded, looking down, rubbing his beard. "I should have feigned indifference." He looked straight at her. "Really, Yay."

"I feel you want to… take me," Yay said, "like a piece, like an area. To be had; to be… possessed." Suddenly she looked very puzzled. "There's something very… I don't know; primitive, perhaps, about you, Gurgeh. You've never changed sex, have you?" He shook his head. "Or slept with a man?" Another shake. "I thought so," Yay said. "You're strange, Gurgeh." She drained her glass.

"Because I don't find men attractive?"

"Yes; you're a man!" She laughed.

"Should I be attracted to myself, then?"

Yay studied him for a while, a small smile flickering on her face. Then she laughed and looked down. "Well, not physically, anyway." She grinned at him and handed him her empty glass. Gurgeh refilled it; she returned back to the others.

Gurgeh left Yay arguing about the place of geology in Culture education policy, and went to talk to Ren Myglan, a young woman he'd been hoping would call in that evening.

One of the people had brought a pet; a proto-sentient Styglian enumerator which padded round the room, counting under its slightly fishy breath. The slim, three-limbed animal, blond-haired and waist-high, with no discernible head but lots of meaningful bulges, started counting people; there were twenty-three in the room. Then it began counting articles of furniture, after which it concentrated on legs. It wandered up to Gurgeh and Ren Myglan. Gurgeh looked down at the animal peering at his feet and making vague, swaying, pawing motions at his slippers. He tapped it with his toe. "Say six," the enumerator muttered, wandering off. Gurgeh went on talking to the woman.