The title comes from "Shattered Dreams" by Johnny Hates Jazz, which was playing in the background in the White Horse in 1989.

"Oh, sorry," Hob said absently as he noticed someone sitting next to him out of the corner of his eye, "I'm waiting for someone, actually."

"Darling," a rich, sultry voice purred, unexpected enough that Hob looked up, "I've been watching you across the bar for a while now. Whoever you're waiting for isn't coming. And I'd say it's their bad luck."

The person had white-blonde hair and red-painted lips, and their eyes were a shade of gold that couldn't possibly be natural. They were smirking at Hob, but it didn't feel necessarily like they were mocking him for being stood up; it felt more like the two of them were sharing some sort of secret joke, although Hob didn't quite know what it might be.

"I think you're right," he said ruefully. He wasn't quite sure why this person had sat next to him, why they were bothering to talk to him at all, but he might as well be polite, and… Well, he wasn't a particular fan of drinking alone. And something about this person was so compelling, in a way that almost reminded him of his Stranger. He wanted to talk to them, to share his thoughts with them, to confide in them. As long as he was careful what he said, he saw no reason not to. "We had a fight, last time we were here. I didn't mean to insult him, but I think I did. I'm not sure if I was really expecting him to come this time."

"A fight is no reason to stand someone up," the other person countered.

Hob shrugged. "I guess it is for him."

"If someone did that to me," the person said, "I would want them to hurt. To be heartbroken. To feel the same pain they made me feel." The person leaned forward, their golden eyes fixed on Hob's. "Is that what you desire?"

"Not really."

"Then what do you desire?"

"I really just wish I could apologize."

The person leaned back in their chair, one eyebrow raised. "Apologize?"

"Like I said, I think I insulted him last time. I wasn't trying to, but it hurt him, and that's my fault. So I'd like to apologize, and to ask if we could go back to the way things were before."

The person hummed. "You are a strange man."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"Do you desire him? This friend of yours?"

"I'm not sure if we're really friends," Hob said. "I think we are, but I don't think he does."

"His loss. You didn't answer my question."

Hob shrugged again. "Only if he feels the same way."

The person let out a short, elegant laugh. "Desire doesn't work that way."

"I think it does here," Hob said. "Look, I just want him to be happy. I don't think- I probably shouldn't be saying this to you, because it's what made him so mad last time, but I don't think he's happy. I think he's lonely. And I want him to be happy. If he wants me like that, then I'd be happy with it. But if he doesn't, if it would make him feel uncomfortable, then I don't want it."

"Fascinating. You truly are a specimen."

Something about the way they said it made Hob feel somewhat akin to a bug under a microscope, but he shrugged the feeling aside. "I'm older than I look, and I've had a lot of time to think about life and death and desire and love."

"And what have you discovered?"

Hob snorted. "That I don't know a damn thing. That I could live until I was a thousand and I still wouldn't understand any of them."

"The concepts are rather endless, aren't they?" the person asked, their lips twisting like they knew some private joke.

"And I've learned that it's okay that I don't understand them," Hob added. "No one does. I don't think they're meant to be understood. I just need to embrace them."

"Even death?"

"When the time comes, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I love living, and I don't want to stop any time soon, but… Everything has to end eventually, doesn't it?"

"Hmm, does it?"

"Even the concepts from before," Hob said, "they wouldn't exist without each other, right? Life and death are stuck together, and you can't desire or love if you're not alive. Unless we're saying there's an afterlife, but even then, there has to be something that can love. And one day, there'll be nothing left to live or die, or desire or love."

"Life does tend to find a way."

Hob shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. That's just what I think about it."

For a moment, the person looked discomforted, then they spread their lips in a smile again. It looked almost predatory, Hob thought, then he wondered if he was being overdramatic. "I'm not much for philosophy, honestly. I'd rather talk about you."

To be honest, at this point, Hob was fairly used to attractive, unnamed people approaching him in taverns and asking about him. "What do you want to know?" The person had used one specific word over and over in their conversation, so he suggested, "What I desire?"

This smile showed all of the person's teeth, and it was most definitely predatory. "Well, if you'll tell me."

Hob had desired many things over his long life, but this stranger seemed fixated on his other one. "And I'd assume you'd like something about my friend?"

The smile grew even wider. "Oh, I'd love that."

"Well, to be entirely honest, what you said before about wanting him to hurt? At first, right after our fight… I did desire that."

The person leaned forward, looking strangely eager. "You did?"

"For a little while," Hob agreed. "He just… up and left, when we'd barely had a chance to talk at all, and it hurt. And… I haven't always been a good person, you know, and just then, my anger got the better of me. If you'd come on that night and asked if I wanted him heartbroken, I think I would have said yes."

"Would you?"

"But I've had some time and distance, and I've been able to think it over, and… I'm not so angry anymore," Hob said. "Mostly, I'd just like to see him again."

"So that is what you desire?" the person asked. "To see him again?"

Hob shrugged. "If he'll see me. Maybe in a hundred years."

"Maybe," the person said, "or… maybe sooner."

"Will you tell me what you desire, then?" Hob asked.

For a moment, the person looked surprised, then they smiled. This one seemed more real than the others, more genuine.

"Oh, I desire many things, but right now, I think I desire another drink."

Hob gestured for a waiter. "And do you desire a drinking partner?"

The smile widened, and for perhaps the first time that night, Hob couldn't see any guile in it.

"Yes, I think I do."