He sits back and avoids her gaze, putting one arm across his chest to grasp the bicep of the other, an unconscious defensive gesture from his youth.

'It's not the same if you've made it all up,' he mutters, but that's not the real point to discuss, is it?

The rat brings the drinks. He waits for it to leave, and downs a quarter of his pint.

'If the decision were just up t'you, what would it be?'

Still can't look at her.