"I didn't say that I liked it," she said, the smile hovering only on one side of her mouth now.

"Ah." Crestfallen.

So cruel.'But I do like it, very much," she said, and suddenly she was communicating amused — even conspiratorial — contrition through her expression.

He laughed and she felt something relax inside her. This was going to be all right.

"I did wonder why I'd been invited," he confessed, the deep-set eyes somehow bright. "Everybody here seems so… , he shrugged, "… important. That's why I… , he waved awkwardly behind him at the plant he'd been inspecting.

"You don't think composers should be regarded as important?" she asked, gently chiding.

"Well… compared to all these politicians and Admirals and business people… in terms of power, I mean… And I'm not even a very well-known musician. I'd have thought Savntreig, or Khu, or…"

"They've composed their careers very well, certainly," she agreed.

He paused for a moment, then gave a small laugh and looked down. His hair was very fine, and glinted in the high mast light. It was her turn to fall in with his laugh. Maybe she ought to mention the commission now, rather than leaving it to their next meeting, when she would reduce the numbers — even if they were distant numbers, at the moment — to something a little more friendly… or even leaving it to a private rendezvous, later still, once she was sure he had been captivated.

How long should she spin this out? He was what she wanted, but it would mean so much more after a charged friendship; that long, exquisite exchange of gradually more intimate confidences, the slow accumulation of shared experiences, the languorous spiralling dance of attraction, coming and going and coming and going, winding closer and closer, until that laziness was sublimed in the engulfing heat of requital.