“Have you been here before?” Sam asked, taking another sip of the water.
“Several times. One of the few places where a chap can relax and indulge his senses.”
“Indeed.”
“Are you attached?”
Sam glanced up and found Tristan’s eyes fixed on him. His face was tense, his shoulders braced as if waiting for a blow. Sam didn’t have a clue if Tristan wanted to be thought of as attached to him or not. But he had apologised. He had suggested he might have overreacted and last night he had got into bed with him and cared for him.
He smiled a little at Tristan, whose breath seemed to hitch.
“I am attached,” he said, turning back to Garforth.
“Then I am happy for you.” Garforth raised his glass in salute to Tristan, and Sam watched patches of colour rise in Tristan’s cheeks as he raised his glass in return.
“Are you attached?” Sam asked, taking another sip of his water.