"No," says Rush, inspecting one of the thick glass windows with the schools of bubbles drifting skyward sluggishly. "I don't imagine we do."

He reaches forward and takes hold of her wrist to prevent her from draining her drink and regards her wryly. She's unlikely to benefit from imbibing further quantities of alcohol.

"So I see." Rush withdraws his hand. "In that case, I imagine Mr. Ryan will find someone of my technical capabilities useful."