83. Crowd
Dining out with his staff: even coughing through the thick cloud of Havoc's cigarette smoke, Roy was enjoying himself. They were past the entrée now (it had had something, he thought vaguely, to do with fish), laughing drunkenly (Hughes) and excitedly (Breda) over the complicated dessert menus. Roy found himself more and more distracted by Hawkeye, the only sober one among them (ah, well, someone would remark later, a bit wistfully. She's probably a mean drunk). She was arguing with Falman, a bit one-sidedly. He was smiling at her, as a father might, humoring her with half of his attention (the other half was fixed on holding poor Fuery up out of his plate). Roy noticed that her hair was down about her shoulders and that when she leaned forward he could glimpse the sweet curve of her breast in the scooped neckline of her blouse.
Hawkeye was incredibly amusing when she was unofficial and angry, he thought. She kept punctuating her sentences with swift hand gestures.
Come one, she was saying. Listen to me.