Kieran thought about Jude's question for a long beat. He ran one hand over his face. He wished there was something other than water and a few bites of a roll in his stomach. He wanted to ask if Jude would leave him, if he didn't try to give it up, but it was not the sort of question that could garner an honest answer. Besides — it was not the sort of question with a binding answer. There was no marriage for them; no contract of forever. Kieran didn't want one, either — he wanted Jude to choose him.

Finally he pulled his hand off his face and looked at Jude. "I don't know," Kieran answered. "Less, I'd like — but I don't know about stopping."

Who was he, if he was sober?