"Don't tell me you're too blasted myopic to see this. We've known each other too long," Suitov told me. He still had his fingers wrapped delicately around my shoulders and I... didn't feel like pulling away just now, ok?

"And 'this' would be?" I said, looking lazily over his shoulder.

"Don't be cute, Pounce. You've been heartachey and pining and too shy to admit it." He released one of my shoulders and tapped me on the nose. I let him win that one and turned to meet eyes the colour of room-temperature steel.

Aching heart or not, I can be plenty insouciant when I want to, and of course I wanted to. "Even if I have been," I said, "are you suggesting you know why?" I looked away for a moment, brushed a speck of dust off his sleeve.

"Oh, I think we both know what's been going on," he said, which made me look back to him in a hurry. Seeing the look in his eyes I thought, ok, so maybe he does know. Then again, maybe he thought I had Instarrian space flu. No need to leap into his - to conclusions, I mean, leap to conclusions.

Slinking a step nearer, I tilted my head and said "Then if you think you know how I'm feeling, I suppose you'd better tell me how you're feeling."

"Well, if you're asking me," he said, "I feel like making a full commitment the like of which you would not see from any other man." Which made no sense wait a minute.

I froze for a moment, wriggled out of his grip and stared at him. "My lord, are you rickrolling me?"

Suitov gave me a devilish grin; his warm steel eyes caught the light. "Never," he said.

"I hate you," I told him, and when he reached for me again I let him hold on this time.