"Depends," I said. "Depends entirely on why you came in here like this.
And what my possession of the Amnesty has to do with it. And how," I
added, puzzled, "you seemed to know so much about Amnesty-bearers and
their vile dispositions!"
She took her hands from her face, streaked with tears, and said, with a
shy grin, "I was guessing at that part. I just kind of assumed they'd
all be pretty intolerant. Who wouldn't be, with all that power?"
"Well, _I_ wouldn't for one," I said defensively. "I only bite when I'm
bitten."
She found a handkerchief somewhere and began sopping up the wet spots
from her complexion; a complexion, I noted happily, that did not come
off with water.
"Have a chair," I said, and rang for the steward. "I hope you drink?"
"Not a lot," she admitted. "But I could use one right now."
"Good," I said, watching her as she poised gracefully on the chair
before my cabin's private stereo set. "By the way, my name's Jery. Jery
Delvin."