[ ...it surprises her. enough to make her wonder whether it's altruism at work or a selfish bid to control the story. peggy's jaw shifts; her tongue picks through the back of her teeth, like trying to dislodge the lies she wants to tell but can't.

they won't hug. they don't hug. that moment's been and gone but maybe she can hold out a hand -- as if to shake and seal a deal. make a promise. her fingers waggle in the air. ]

You have my word. [ a puff of her cheeks. ] Although it wouldn't be vodka. It would never be vodka. Please don't tell me I take to drinking vodka in my autumn years. I'll be sorely disappointed in myself.

[ whiskey, on the other hand... ]