Red couldn't sleep, but he forced himself to lay still, to at least rest his body (if not his mind) for the few hours before he needed to get dressed for dinner. There was something off about Denny, and he couldn't quite place it. Red had been so preoccupied with his blunder about Lizzie that he hadn't yet processed Denny's strangeness until he had things squared away with her. Even after ruminating over the entire conversation with Denny, and replaying it in his mind several times, he still couldn't quite put his finger on it.
There was a distant sadness in Denny's eyes, or perhaps a vacancy. The more Red thought about it, the more familiar it looked. It was a lot like his own, when he thinks about Jenny, and has to continue "playing normal" for one reason or another. Dembe and Lizzie could usually tell. They never say anything, but he notices how they'd get a little uneasy, and start acting a little too nice.
Briefly he considered withholding information about Lizzie until Denny tells him what's wrong, but a good friend wouldn't do that. Red may not have had many good friends, but he still knew how to be one. Not only that, but since Red was preparing to rejoin law-abiding society, he expected to see much more of Denny. It would no longer compromise Denny's career for him to do so.
By the time he got up to get ready for dinner, Red had decided that he wouldn't even ask. Whatever it is, there's plenty of time to figure it out. Denny will talk when he's ready.
They were two drinks in and still working on their appetizers when Denny went in for the kill, zeroing in on Red's love life.
"You've talked to her, haven't you, Raymond? Tell me about her."
Red made a show of heaving a heavy sigh, feigning exasperation.
Denny lifted his glass and leaned forward, wordlessly staring Red down like a witness for opposing council. His eyes seemed to hold this warning: Commit purgary, and you'll be sorry.
"Her name is Elizabeth. She's a criminal profiler."
Denny grinned. "You're pulling my leg."
Red's grin mirrored Denny's, but he shook his head, laughing. "For the FBI."
"You dog!"
Red held his palms up, shrugging.
Denny began to piece it together. "So, you turned yourself in at J. Egar Hoover, and seduced an FBI profiler?"
"That's a rather succinct account of events."
"Huh... Wait. Was she the... the reason?"
"She was, largely. It wasn't, however, my intent to seduce her. I needed her. I still do, but for different, more obvious reasons."
"Well, I can see why you needed to keep it under wraps, and that ah, makes it more fun, anyway."
"It was at first. We've had some close calls. I think the secrecy is harder for Lizzie than it is for me, but she's become a skilled liar. It's served us well with the work we do, but still. That's my fault, and I don't feel very good about that."
The server appeared then with their entrées. Both men requested another scotch, and fell into a comfortable silence while they dug into their steaks.
Denny finished first. He set down his cutlery and pushed his plate aside.
Not missing a beat, Denny asked, "She goes by Lizzie?"
"No. Liz. I call her Lizzie."
"Raymond." Denny waggled his eyebrows, imploring. "Picture?"
"Fine, but I'm gonna need you to promise that you'll simmer your reaction."
"Ooo! She must be either super hot or totally butch. Either way, no promises, Raymond. Show me anyway. Denny Crane."
This time, Red's exasperated sigh was genuine. Just the same, he chose to comply with Denny's wishes.
He pulled out his wallet and removed a small, worn out photograph. It was taken on the day they moved Hudson into his new home. Lizzie was in the middle of brushing him when Red called her name from outside the stall. When she turned to face him, Lizzie's expression was nothing short of ethereal. His first thought was that if he could, he'd paint her just like that. Snapping a picture was the next best thing.
The colors were faded and corners were turned down from being handled frequently. He looks at it daily, and many times a day when they're apart.
Red slid the photo across the table.
Denny's only response was a strangled gasp.