"Well, he'll want me sober when I give the report," Byerly retorts, "and I don't intend for sobriety to happen." He gives a little waggle of the bottle, and drinks - but, unfortunately, rather soberly, because of that second question. It makes guilt twist in him, a little lump of unhappiness, lingering from the way he'd hurt her. He doesn't think, for as long as he lives, he'll get over the guilt of that.

"And...I know you put together a photographic exhibition."