Oh, that's -- oh. Edgar's encountered that energy before, and is far from immune to it; what he wants right now is maybe a little different from what he wanted a moment or two ago.

He takes another sip of coffee, mouth unaccountably dry. (It smells like the stranger's scent, and he finds himself wondering whether his mouth tastes like this, and that's enough to make him need a second swallow.)

"Right now," he says, and a good deal of the insouciance has gone out of his tone but not all of it, "how about a little more conversation, and then maybe see what comes out of that?"