"Yeah, that's me. Heart on my sleeve," he agreed with a wry smile, unable to contain another little chuckle. A wide grin spread across his face at her description of events. "There you go - you've got the opening to that novel you were describing earlier," he grinned, fully believing it.
Then it struck him - it was nothing, really. Just a passing comment, but it was the first time in years he'd ever made the connection between the real world and fiction. It was the first time he'd been living life and suddenly seen it as print. It had been a regular occurrence back when he could rightfully call himself a writer, but it just didn't happen for him any more. The connection had been lost. But there it was, that spark, mentally storing a moment and a feeling to use later.
He shook it off again.
"That's all right, it has that effect," he told her as she held onto his hand. "I won't, you're okay," he insisted, stopping her from stumbling with a steadying hand on her waist. "I haven't quite thought as far ahead as getting back up there after the rum," he added with a laugh.