Chapter 15
The following evening
"Come on, you look perfect," Danny says patiently. "You looked perfect ten minutes ago," he adds under his breath.
"I'm coming," Syed responds, without moving from his position in front of the full-length mirror.
Coming to stand behind him, Danny slips his arms around his waist and admires the beautiful picture they make. "You do know that if you put too much of that shit in your hair, it'll start to fall out," he helpfully points out.
"Of course, you're not at all bothered about how you look," Syed responds sarcastically. "Reaching a hand over his shoulder, he makes a half-hearted attempt to run his fingers through Danny's hair, but he quickly ducks out of the way.
"Yea, didn't think so," he laughs.
#
The club, in the Village, is one Danny has been to several times before, and Syed has an excited butterflies feeling as they walk through the door. He's been to clubs in Leeds and London, but this is on another level – four levels, in fact, with sounds from the 80s, 90s, 00s, 10s and people filling every available space. They get drinks and spend a little time looking around them; the loud music prevents too much chat.
"You wanna dance?" Danny asks in an exaggerated American accent.
"Not really," Syed smiles apologetically. "I'm not much of a dancer."
"Me neither. I usually stumble into places like this at the end of the night when I'm shit-faced and looking for someone to shag."
"Oh," Syed says uneasily.
"Oh," Danny mimics, with an exaggerated frown, "Oh, oh, oh," he teases, his arms sliding around Syed's waist; his mouth swooping in to press a couple of playful kisses.
"You've absolutely nothing to worry about," he assures affectionately. "I've been to pubs and clubs in every major city over the years, and I've never once come across a guy that comes anywhere close to you; and that won't change no matter who walks in, no matter where we are."
"How many glasses of wine did you have with dinner?" Syed asks skeptically.
"I am not drunk," Danny cries, outraged and deeply offended.
"I never said you were, but you are smiling a lot more than usual, and ..."
"I'm happy, here, with you; why wouldn't I smile," Danny responds defensively.
Syed grabs his hands as he starts to back away from him. "I'm happy, too," he soothes.
"Of course you are, you're with me," Danny reminds him.
"Very true," he laughs, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of affection and amusement.
His expression in that moment seems to Danny to be the most beautiful he has ever seen on a human being. "I wish I could paint," he thinks wistfully.
Danny is now gazing very intently at him. "What are you thinking?" he gently prods, lifting a hand to brush the knuckles with a feather-light touch along his cheek.
"Can I take your photo?" Danny earnestly pleads.
"No, you can't," Syed laughs.
"You're so beautiful."
"And you're so drunk," he gently chides.
"I want to get you drunk, so that I can take advantage of you," Danny says huskily. His arms slip around Syed's waist and he gently tugs him into his arms.
"Oh really, and how exactly would you go about that?" Syed asks with an indulgent smile.
Danny leans forward and whispers something unintelligible in his ear.
"How about you show me later," he giggles.
Danny's mouth slides along his cheek to cover his mouth, his hands slide down to grip his hips, pulling him hard against him. "I want you now," he breathes.
The kiss grows more passionate as Syed quickly catches up.
"Hotel," he gasps, "back to the hotel."
"Mmm," Danny's response is a bit distracted, as his mouth moves to his neck.
Syed becomes aware that his shirt is almost hanging off of him. "Danny, no, not here," he moans, weakly trying to push him away.
"Come on, don't be shy, no one's looking," he coaxes, his voice thick with passion.
But Syed isn't quite able to let go to that extent. "No, I can't; please Danny."
Danny very reluctantly allows him to pull away. He takes a couple of deep breaths to try to clear his head. "The quicker we get out of here, the quicker we get back to the hotel," he gruffly decides. Grabbing Syed's hand, he looks around for the nearest exit.
"I think we came in ..."
"Hang on, there are loos over there; I won't be long." Danny drops his hand and rushes off without waiting for a response.
"Can't you wait until we get back to the hotel?" Syed calls after him, but apparently he can't.
Syed smiles, as he watches him impatiently weaving his way through the crowd. Remembering his shirt, he starts to button it.
"You look better with it undone."
"He looks up quickly at the tall, handsome stranger who has suddenly appeared at his side.
"The name's Jake. Can I buy you a drink?"
"No, no thanks. I'm with someone."
"Yea, I couldn't help noticing; pretty goddam hot, it's gotta be said. He's a very lucky guy."
Ignoring the blatant message in his eyes, Syed offers a polite smile. "When he gets back, we're leaving; we've got an early flight in the morning."
"That's a real shame," Jake responds mockingly, "and here was me hoping …"
Without being aware that he is doing it, Syed gives Jake the once over. His eyes drifting over the muscular forearms leading to almost competition-level muscular upper arms and shoulders; the well-defined abs easily visible under a snow-white vest, which also helpfully draws attention to his tanned completion.
"Like what you see?" he asks, moving a little closer, supremely confident.
"Sorry, didn't mean to stare," Syed apologises, embarrassed. "You must work out such an awful lot."
"You could say that."
"Yea," Syed responds awkwardly. He wonders how impolite it would be to just turn and walk away ...
"So, what do you think?"
"About what?"
"Making your escape from Mr Right for a bit? It's a big place; you could say you went for a wander, got lost – it would buy us 15-20 minutes." Jake repeats his suggestion. "How about it?" he adds huskily, as his hand begins to slowly make its way up Syed's arm ...
"No, thanks; I'm okay here," Syed says, keeping his voice cheerful; still smiling as he backs away.
"Come on, don't be boring – you're on holiday, right – you sound … British, maybe?"
"I live in London."
"Yea, well, you're not in London anymore, my pretty little Dorothy. And in this town, guys don't like being jerked around." As he speaks, Jake quickly reaches out a hand to hook a couple of fingers into the waistband of Syed's jeans and pull him firmly towards him.
"I said 'no'," Syed replies sharply. He roughly pushes the hand away and quickly turns to walk away.
Unfazed, Jake grips his arm tightly, pulling him back. "Quit being such a little tease," he accuses; his look and tone now hardening.
"Let go of my arm," Syed orders between gritted teeth; his finger nails dig into the skin of the hand holding him captive and then drag back leaving deep scratches which immediately start to bleed.
"You little fucker," Jake hisses. Lifting his other hand to grab a fist-full of his hair, he drags Syed to him, crushing him against the hard wall of his chest. "If you like to play rough, I'm your man," he promises with a nasty little smile.
Syed twists his head away as Jake tries to kiss him.
And then, suddenly, he's free.
"What the fuck's this?" Danny shouts as his fist lands a second punch to Jake's lower back.
"You're boy here, gives me the signals, then changes his mind," Jake gasps, scrambling away from him, his face screwed up in pain. "Proper little prick tease. I wouldn't let him out of my sight for a second if I were you," he manages to taunt.
"If you want your ribs to hurt as much as your kidneys, keep talking." Danny takes a threatening step towards him.
"Hey, take it easy, man; you'll get no fight from me; he ain't worth it." His eyes cast their contemptuous gaze over Syed as he speaks. "Plenty more fish, and all that," he easily dismisses.
He turns to walk away. "I'm at The Trump Soho until Sunday, if you change your mind London boy; room 1041," he calls over his shoulder before vanishing into the crowd.
"What the hell are you playing at?" Danny demands, turning at once to Syed and pushing him none-too-gently in the chest.
"What are you taking about?" Syed cries in surprise.
"You think you can fuck with me and get away with it, do you?" he shouts, adding another jab, this time a little harder.
"No, I wouldn't," Syed whispers, his shocked words lost in the noise around them.
Danny grabs his chin, forcing his face closer. "You're bought and paid for, don't forget. I'll rip you to pieces if you even think of crossing me."
"Why are you talking like this? You could see he was forcing me," Syed cries. The effect of Danny's words all the more powerful because he is so unprepared for them.
"Where did he get the idea to begin with, that you might want him?"
"I didn't deliberately ... I might have inadvertently given him the idea ..."
"Enough," Danny shouts impatiently.
"I don't want him, I want you, only you," Syed desperately pleads, as he turns from him.
"Bullshit. You might still be able to catch him. He probably hasn't gone far; didn't strike me as the type who would have any friends to get back to."
"Danny, please," Syed cries agitatedly, grabbing his arm in an attempt to stop him, but Danny shakes him off.
"This place is crawling with fit blokes; I'm sure I'll have no trouble replacing you." He leaves him with the unsettling words.
#
A bar on one of the other levels offers whiskey as a temporary solution to Danny's problems; and a few offers of company, which he impatiently rejects.
Jake watches and waits.
###
"Where have you been?" Syed angrily demands when he returns to the hotel room early the next morning. "I was about to call the police."
"They already know," Danny says casually, as he walks past him.
"You've been fighting," he cries anxiously on noticing the bruise on his cheek. "Are you ...?"
His words are cut off by the shutting of the en suite bathroom door.
"... okay," he sighs.
"Where did you spend the night?" he demands when the door opens a little later. Danny emerges wrapped in a towel, his hair wet.
"Not now," is the only response he gets. Danny removes the towel, gives his hair a quick dry with it and drops it onto the chair; he then gets into bed and is soon asleep.
Syed goes for a walk for something to do; but the vibrant scene does nothing to cheer him up, and he is soon back at the hotel packing, quietly; his mood despondent.
#
"How long have I been asleep?"
Syed looks up from his book. "A couple of hours," he responds quietly. "Are you hungry? I got you a ham and cheese baguette."
"Thanks," Danny mumbles. He drags himself out of bed and back into the bathroom to wash his teeth.
Syed boils the electric kettle and makes him a cup of coffee.
"We need to pack," Danny says to fill the silence as he eats. "I got us a late check out, but we haven't got long before we need to leave for the airport."
"Where did you spend the night?"
"I have no idea what time I left the club."
"Were you with another guy?"
"Let me think ..."
"Danny," Syed barks irritably.
"I sat alone at a bar on one of the other levels for a few hours, nothing more exciting than that," he reluctantly concedes.
"There must have been something more. You didn't get that bruise on your cheek sitting on a bar stool."
"Mr Trump Soho thought the odds would be more in his favour if I were drunk. He must have followed me after I left you; jumped me outside the club."
"Did he hurt you very badly?" Syed asks anxiously.
"No; turns out, a shit fighter with muscles is still a shit fighter. The element of surprise allowed him to land one good punch.
The police assumed I was the aggressor and wouldn't let me go until they'd seen CCTV footage and heard witness accounts of the attack. I got the feeling they didn't particularly like me."
"You can come across a bit smug; arrogant sometimes," Syed automatically explains.
"I've been told that before," Danny admits, unbothered.
"How badly did you hurt him?"
"Bruised ribs, a broken nose, split lip; that kind of thing; a few stitches were needed, apparently; nothing more serious than that," he reveals with more than a hint of bravado.
"Did you have be so brutal?"
"He hit me first, remember."
"What are you, five?"
"You know I don't suffer fools ..."
"Whatever, look, I've finished packing. I'm going for a walk." Syed impatiently interrupts. He gets up to leave.
"Wait." Danny orders. "I really don't think we're done talking; and I don't fancy having you siting next to me on a plane sulking for 8 hours.
Syed hasn't got the energy to resist; he goes back to his spot by the window. This last day of their holiday has been a long and frustrating one for him; and he is no longer in any kind of mood to listen to Danny's version of anything.
"Let me take a wild guess, you think I'm to blame for everything that happened last night." Danny interrupts his wandering thoughts.
"I don't really care anymore," he sighs.
"Which means 'yes'."
Syed looks down in the direction of his hands. "I don't approve of violence," he says very quietly.
"I don't get into fights every day of the week," Danny responds defensively. "In fact, the last two were over you. Before that, I'd managed a few years without pissing anyone off to the point where they were angry enough to attack me; which is actually pretty impressive when you consider some of the stuff I've gotten involved in."
"There's no excuse …"
That asshole .. when I saw him putting his hands on you, I wanted to kill him. By the time he reappeared; I was so angry ... I didn't need much of an excuse ..."
Syed doesn't comment. He deliberately looks back down at his book; after a moment, he very slowly turns a page.
"You played your part, don't forget; he wouldn't have taken things so far if you hadn't given him some encouragement."
"I told him I wasn't interested," Syed responds almost absent-mindedly, without taking his eyes off the pages of his book. "When he refused to get the message, I walked away, or at least I tried to ..."
"You told him you were from London, which means you, at the very least, had some sort of conversation."
Syed shrugs his shoulders. With a sigh, he puts aside the book, gets up and walks over to the bed. He picks up the empty cup from the bedside table and puts it back on the tray. "I could lie down just for a little while, close my eyes ...," he thinks, casting an envious glance at the large comfy bed. It's probably still warm ..."
"Syed," Danny shouts furiously.
"I told you, nothing happened," he says calmly, with another casual shrug thrown in to irritate just a little bit more.
"Maybe, but only because I interrupted. If I'd returned 5 minutes later, I'd have found you on your knees ..."
Syed's fist smashing into his jaw, surprises them both.
Danny has a hold of him before he can get anywhere near a door. He has him pinned against the wall and a fist within inches of his face before Syed can do anything to stop him.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he hisses.
"Hit me, go on," Syed recklessly shouts in his face, his eyes glittering with defiance.
"You think I won't," Danny warns, between gritted teeth. But course he won't; his fist relaxes, and he tenderly rubs a thumb across Syed's cheek. "You shouldn't push me," he murmurs.
Syed senses the change in him. "No, Danny, not now, I've got a headache," he moans, pushing weakly against him.
"Very original," Danny smiles. His mouth meets no resistance, his hands are allowed to go where will; but ..."
"Are you fucking phoning it in?" he angrily accuses, pushing Syed away after a few minutes.
"What?" Syed asks, apparently surprised.
"You heard me. Did you honestly think I wouldn't be able to tell the difference?"
"I really do have a headache; I didn't get much sleep last night," he sighs.
"Which is, of course, my fault," Danny snaps impatiently.
"Why did you overreact?" Syed asks quietly. "You must have known that I'd never be interested in a guy like that."
"He's your type," Danny murmurs.
"No he's not," Syed responds, his tone surprised. "Seriously, were we looking at the same guy?"
"Don't lie.
"If I'd come across someone like him when I was 17 or 18, I'd have been tempted, seriously tempted; I won't deny it ..."
"Skimpy vest offering a vulgar display of muscles, skinny jeans leaving little to the imagination, an overtly sexual vibe; that's what did it for teenage Syed?" he asks with a smile.
"Tick, tick, tick," Syed grins blushing, and the tension is broken.
"I really wanted to talk to you, later, after it all happened," Danny admits.
"Why didn't you call or answer any of my calls? I left messages. I was so worried when I couldn't get hold of you."
"I couldn't phone you. I've lost my phone, or someone's stolen it; I'm not really sure which. At the station, they offered me one phone call, but I couldn't remember all the digits of your number; how ridiculous is that."
"You could have phoned the hotel and asked to be put through to our room."
"That would have been a good idea, if I'd thought of it."
There is a thoughtful silence, and then, "I shouldn't have left you like that, it was a stupid thing to do," Danny admits, his voice ringing with annoyance at himself.
"I left the club immediately; flagged down a taxi to take me back to the hotel; but even after I'd locked myself in the room, I didn't feel very safe. New York suddenly felt a long way from home."
"I'm so sorry," Danny says wretchedly.
"You didn't react very well, but it wasn't you who attacked me. The point is, I should have been able to defend myself, I'm not a child."
"If you ever find yourself in a vulnerable position like that again, the first thing you do is scream your head off; draw as much attention to yourself as you can," Danny advises. "Don't worry about what he'll do; he's already planning to hurt you, so you've nothing to lose."
"What if there's no one around to hear? Or if, like tonight, no one would have heard me above the music?"
"Then, you pretend to play along and wait for an opportunity to bite into the softest, fleshiest part of his body you can reach: his face or arse cheek, for example; or best of all, his dick or his tongue; it won't work if you're not totally committed to the task; you have to dig your teeth in as far as you can; and no matter what he does, you don't let go."
"That's gross," Syed cries in disgust.
"Less gross than being raped," Danny points out.
"I would have thought that that's the sort of thing you'd do to a guy, if you're aim was to make him angry enough to kill you."
"If you're quick enough, and bite hard enough and deep enough; he'll be shocked into letting you go just for a second, and then you can escape."
"You're being serious, aren't you?" Syed asks incredulously.
"Of course I am," Danny heatedly responds.
"What if he pulls a knife?"
"You hope he doesn't."
"Brilliant," Syed says sarcastically.
"Mr Trump Soho didn't strike me like the knife-wielding type."
"If you don't mind me saying, there are a few holes in your survival plan," Syed points out with a smile.
"One or two," he agrees.
"Have you ever been in a position where you had to … defend yourself?" Syed asks, the thought suddenly occurring to him.
"Of course not, I'm way too sharp ..."
"Did you manage to get away?" Syed anxiously demands, gripping his arm as he would back away.
"I'm not quite sure how this suddenly became about me ..."
"Tell me."
"I didn't get away," he sighs.
"You got raped?" Syed whispers horrified.
"No, for some reason his lust turned to fury after I'd bitten clean through his lower lip. He beat me unconscious; I ended up in hospital; apparently, it was touch and go for a while."
"I'm so sorry," Syed whispers, pressing a kiss against his cheek.
"Don't be; it was years ago. I recovered, learned a valuable lesson; it was the first and last time anyone ever got the better of me."
"I suppose," Syed says uneasily. "It left a mark on you, though; didn't it? You won't let yourself trust anyone. You're so focused on protecting yourself ..."
"I've no sympathy ..."
"Not everyone has an ugly side. Just because you've been hurt by one horrible person, just because your parents let you down; it doesn't give you the justification to hurt other vulnerable people."
"Not that again," Danny warns.
"No, I'm sorry ..."
"I don't need that life anymore, and I definitely don't need you banging on about it every time we have an argument."
"I'm not banging on about it," Syed snaps. "I was only saying ... It seemed appropriate ..."
"Any anyway, this is about you; you're the one who fucked up this time."
"He was forcing me, could you not see that?" Syed cries angrily. "Could you not see how upset I was?"
"Hang on," Danny cries, surprised; his hand reaching to him in a placating gesture, is unceremoniously slapped away.
"I'm not the enemy; I'm not someone you need to protect yourself against."
"From where I was standing, it looked like you were about to kiss him; how did you expect me to react?"
"I HAD NO CHOICE," Syed shouts each word distinctly. "He was bigger, stronger than me … He was pulling my hair ..."
"Sometimes you like it when I pull your hair … you know, when we're ...," Danny weakly ties to deflect his anger, and gets a hard push in the chest for his troubles.
"Do you seriously think you can just laugh it off?"
"No, of course not, I wasn't ... I don't ..." He struggles to think of something he can say to calm Syed down; and in the meantime, grips both his arms to try to hold him still and protect himself from further blows he senses might be coming.
"You pride yourself on being able to read a situation; how could you have gotten it so wrong?"
"You should be very careful how you speak to me ..."
"Shut up," Syed barks.
Danny does as he's told.
"At no stage have I given you any reason ... You think that because I cheated on Christian with you ..."
"No, of course not," he quickly lies.
"I was so relieved to see you, when you returned; and then you ... you attacked me," Syed admits, his voice sinking with disappointment. His anger abruptly fading, he slumps down on the bed.
"I know," Danny sighs.
"I need to understand why you would think that if you left me for a second I'd go off with the very next guy who came along," he murmurs eventually. "We've been having such a good time ..."
"I took one look at him, and I assumed ... I assumed you were willing …"
"You didn't look at me at all, did you? It was all about macho pride; defending your territory. You didn't care about me."
"I shouldn't have been so rough with you; I am really sorry for the way I reacted," he murmurs inadequately. "Did he hurt you?" he adds, when he gets no response, his hand tentatively touching his cheek.
"Too little, too late," Syed snaps. He gets up to walk away, but Danny's arms enfold him from behind, preventing him from going very far.
"Come on, babe, don't be mad with me," he cajoles in his most endearing voice.
"No, you can't just suddenly make everything right with a few caring words," Syed sniffs, struggling to get away from him.
"I know ..."
"I was scared of him. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find me; or that it would be too late by the time you got back."
"I got it wrong," Danny says sadly. He presses a tender kiss against his cheek. "It's a shame the night was ruined for you."
"That idiot didn't ruin it. The club was cool; I loved the music," Syed reluctantly allows.
"You liked it?"
"Yea," he admits, his body relaxing a little.
"I'm glad," Danny murmurs. Sensing it's safe to let him go, he releases his grip and Syed turns to face him.
"I really am sorry," he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss on his mouth.
"It's okay," Syed quietly concedes.
Danny pulls him into a hug, and down onto the bed. They lie peacefully for a little while listening to the muffled sounds of the night coming from the streets far below.
"Making out in the semi-darkness, in a room full of people was pretty thrilling," he shyly confesses.
"We can do it again now, if you want; there's no one around, but it is semi-dark," Danny offers, affecting an exaggerated shyness.
"I want," Syed says huskily.
#
You can trust me, you know," Syed gently assures a little later.
"I'm guessing you told Christian the same thing."
"That was completely different ..."
"Maybe you're getting bored with me ..."
"If I was bored with you, I'd be more than happy to tell you to your face," Syed admits with a smile. "I may have struggled to be totally honest with Christian, but I would have no problem putting a dent in that massive ego of yours."
"You can be so mean sometimes," Danny sighs, his bottom lip sticking out slightly.
"Ah, my poor little Danny," Syed teases.
"We'd been having such a good time ..."
"Everything's okay now," he gently assures, and is rewarded with a tentative smile.
"I wish we didn't have to go back."
"Me too." Syed sighs.
"Why don't you try to get some sleep for a few hours; we've still got plenty of time before we have to leave for the airport," Danny suggests, his fingers sliding through Syed's hair, his thumbs tenderly massaging his scalp. "I'll get our bags brought down."
"Okay," he murmurs, his eyes already closing.
#
"Hmm," he murmurs, his body instinctively arching against the hand touching him so very intimately.
"It's time to get up," Danny whispers.
"Ah ahh ahhh," he moans.
"Okay, I lied; it'll be time to get up in about 20 minutes," Danny huskily confesses.
###
"You've been very quiet," he remarks, nudging Syed in the shoulder as they stand in the lift on their way up to the apartment after arriving back in the UK.
"I'm just a bit tired," Syed responds, his voice distracted.
They unpack, and put on a wash; and Danny makes a couple of mugs of tea and some sandwiches. They sit eating without talking for a little while.
"We should go away again soon," he suggests, "maybe Rome or Venice, or Paris. The bank's got lots of clients overseas; I'm sure I could wrangle another business trip, and add on a few days for us to have to ourselves. Hell, if we have to, we can pay for the whole trip ourselves."
"I don't have any money," Syed wearily repeats the oft-repeated words.
"Don't worry about that; we can put it on your tab," Danny assures.
"I'll never get it paid off at this rate," he dejectedly responds.
"No," Danny smiles.
"Danny."
"Yea."
"Now that we're back, what's going to happen?"
"Well, I assumed we'd carry on like before."
"Am I still here because I'm paying off a debt? Is that the only reason I'm here?"
"Why does that matter? Are you asking if you can leave?"
"No, I don't want to leave," Syed murmurs, his eyes lowered.
"Well, we've no problem then."
"In New York, it felt more natural … as if we were a proper couple; but now, being back here, it feels strange …"
"I told you to change anything you didn't like …"
"I'm not talking about furniture or the colour of the walls," Syed wearily responds. "I just ... I'd just like to know where I stand with you. If we could, maybe, talk about how we really feel ..." he trails off, embarrassed.
"Let's just play it by ear," Danny very carefully suggests. He gets up and walks over to switch on his PC. "I'm going to do a bit of work; I haven't checked my emails since we left New York; there may be something urgent ..."
"Of course," Syed says quickly, the note of hurt barely discernible in his voice. He gets up and walks into the bedroom.
An hour later, Danny gives up trying to concentrate on anything to do work. He arrives in the bedroom to find it in darkness. Undressing, he pulls back the quilt and gets into bed.
"I know you're not asleep, he says softly; reaching out to take Syed's shoulder and turn him onto his back to face him.
"I'm tired," Syed resists, a trace of tears in his voice.
Danny lets go. He lies staring at the ceiling for a long time. He is exhausted, his eyes are stinging for want of sleep; but he cannot fall asleep. He looks over at Syed's back. "He's wearing a t-shirt," he notes. He stares back at the ceiling for another while. Eventually, he reaches over once more.
"Danny, don't," Syed mumbles.
"Please," he whispers, "I can't sleep; I've got a banging headache."
Instinctively responding to the note of desperation in his voice, Syed turns towards him; and Danny puts his arms around him, pulling him against his body. Only half awake, Syed falls back asleep; and Danny releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"Shag him senseless for a few weeks, get him out of your system, bin him, forget him; that was the plan, wasn't it?" he reminds himself. "You're such a fool, Danny Pennant," he adds with a rueful smile.
He closes his eyes and falls asleep.