The music was playing again. He listened to it for a moment, almost recognizing it, but then was distracted again by his barstool, which had begun to wobble as it swayed on its own. Suddenly a hand, a woman's hand, touched his shoulder and steadied him. "Hi. What are you doing here?", she said. It was definitely a woman. The voice sounded far away and muffled. Jack didn't recognize it. He turned a little unsteadily and fixed his eyes on the blonde barmaid. He'd forgotten when Sully had hired a barmaid, but there she was.

"What am I doing here? What do you think I'm doing here?" Jack asked, a little slowly, "I'm studying Latin." He continued, in an exaggeratedly pedantic tone, "I will give you an example. Res ipso loquitur. That translates as 'the thing speaks for itself.' It's a legal term. It refers to a thing, the meaning of which is so obvious, that it needs no further explanation." Jack waved his hand over the small swarm of empty glasses. "Based on the evidence of these, however many of them there are, Helga, what do you think I'm doing here."

The barmaid looked at the empty glasses for a moment, then counted them using her finger. She also moved her lips slightly as she counted. "There are nine empty glasses, so you must be drinking." she said definitively, then continued, in a less certain tone, "You called me Helga. Do you know me?"

"It was a lucky guess. You look like you should be Helga," Jack said with a smile, "How about another double scotch, so I can add to my collection." She went off. Jack looked after her. She was a blonde. Her hair hung down straight and lank. She was wearing very tight jeans, which clearly defined a too-big ass and too-short legs, and a slightly loose pink tank-top bearing the eternal question, "What Are Yonkers?" There was no bra under the tank-top. "No point, either," Jack thought, "For advertising to be successful, you have to have products worth advertising." Jack guessed that she was in her thirties, but the light in here being what it was, there was a decade or so margin of error. Still, in a room full of men, she was marginally more pleasing to look at.

A couple of minutes later she was back with his scotch. She sat on the empty stool next to Jack's, and put the glass in his hand. "A friendly barmaid," Jack thought to himself. He swirled the scotch in the glass for a moment, studying it intently, then said, "Now, that's what I call personal service." He then chugged down the scotch and put the empty glass with the others. "Let's see, that makes, uh, ten, I think," Jack said, a little uncertainly. Higher mathematics was beginning to be difficult.

She leaned forward and pressed herself against his arm. "Really friendly," thought Jack, enjoying the contact. He did not pull away. She counted the glasses again with her finger, lips still moving with effort. "Ten," she said brightly, "You were right!". She resumed sitting upright on her stool, looking at him expectantly.

"Don't stop on my account," Jack said, "That's the most fun I've had in a couple of weeks." He paused, "I haven't seen you here before. When did you start working here?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "I don't work here. I'm lost."

"Lost?" Jack repeated, even more puzzled than she was.

"Oh, yes. You see, it's after dark, and I can't find my way home after dark. The landmarks all move."

Jack stared at her. Suddenly a mental image came to him, an image of a New York street, with houses and trees and street signs and traffic lights all uprooting themselves and moving around in a slow and silent danse macabre. He blinked and shook his head to clear the distasteful vision away. Her face, both of them, drifted back into view. Jack said nothing.

After a brief pause, she continued, "You see, I was going to invite you to come home with me. I like having friends over, but if I can't find my way back there, then I can't do that." She looked fleetingly sad.

After a moment's pause, and an attempt to consider his options, Jack said, "Well, I can see how that might pose a problem. One must know the path to one's destination in order to actually find his way to that destination successfully."

"In my case, her way," she corrected him. "But that's still a really smart thing to say." Jack nodded absently, the surreal aspects of the conversation occupying most of his dwindling powers of concentration.

"Can I ask you for a really big favor?" she asked a little anxiously.

"Sure. Go ahead," Jack replied agreeably, warmed by her recognition of his superior intellect.

"Go ahead and what?" she was puzzled again.

"Your really big favor." Jack prompted.

"Do you already know what it is?" she asked, a little wide-eyed. "I knew you were smart but this is amazing."

"No!" Jack said, crossly, "What is the really big favor you want to ask of me?"

"Oh, good. I was afraid that I was forgetting what I said as soon as I said it. Again," she explained.

"The favor..." Jack prompted again.

"Oh, yes. Since I can't find my way home, and I can't stay here, and I can't wander the streets all night, can I come home with you?"

Jack looked at her again. "Why couldn't you wander the streets," he thought, "You'd fit right in." Still there was something about her that reminded him of something or someone, but he couldn't place her and didn't want to try. Oh, well. It was late. He was completely plastered. She could go home with him and either something would happen or it wouldn't. She was pleasant enough, if more than a little bit scatterbrained. "That's OK with me," he said.

"What is?" she asked.

"Oh, shut up," Jack said in an amiable tone, "Let's go."

"Okay," she said, happily.

Jack stood up, the first time in quite awhile, and lurched to his right. She shot her arm around his waist and caught him. "Better find my sea legs," Jack said.

"I didn't know that we were at the beach..." she began, looking around anxiously.

"I didn't mean that literally," Jack said, stumbling over the last word.

They left, into the swampy heat and foul air outside. A short time later, they were at the door of Jack's apartment. Jack drew himself to his full height. "It may be a bit of a mess inside," he said, "I think I should warn you so you can prepare yourself."

"That's okay," she said, "I've seen much worse. Last night, for example..." her voice trailed off at the memory. Jack looked at her for just a moment, waiting for her to complete her thought, then decided she didn't have one. He opened the door and they went in.