“I know who you are,” said Fiona. “You have any idea who I am? Do you, Kenneth?”

Hercula blinked, thinking she’d heard wrong. It was very late, and she hadn’t drank this much in a long, long time. And this was supposed to be a trip away from it all, too.

“Look,” said Nathan. “I don’t know who you think I am, but you’re just misinformed. I’m a businessman. Unless -- did we hook up at a conference?”

Fiona’s glare probably should have killed him. Instead, Phoebe came up, perhaps to deflate the situation, and put a hand on Nathan’s back.

“Now, let’s just have a seat,” she said. “I’m sure this is a conversation that can happen without the shouting. There’s a table over there --”

“Don’t you leave while I’m shouting at you,” said Fiona, words sounding like her glare. Even Hercula winced. She put a hand to her head. “He ought to look me in the eye. Go on, then, look your daughter in the eye.”

Phoebe put her hands up and backed away, and no one else seemed to want to interfere after that. As she walked past, Hercula tried to move out of her way and nearly fell, grateful when a brown hand steadied her. She looked up into Terren’s concerned face and grinned. Terren would get her back to her room.

Nathan and Fiona were really yelling now and Hercula cast another glance in their direction, but no one dared try to break them up after Phoebe. Simon was staring, and Adrian came up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder, led him away.

“Just how much did you drink?” asked Terren.

“Not enough to avoid that,” said Hercula, and laughed. Terren helped her to the doorway and into the corridor, where she blinked at Jamie, who just seemed to be aimlessly standing there. Before she could process that Terren had opened the nearest door and led her to a very comfortable couch.

“You need to start coming up with excuses,” said Terren, bringing her a bag in case she got sick. Hercula leaned back, letting the coziness overwhelm her.

“This is the softest couch,” she said. “Where am I?”

“My room. Didn’t think you could make it to yours.” Hercula thought that made sense, so she said nothing. “I’ll be back. I’m going to see what’s going on.”

Hercula’s concept of time was a little altered. She couldn’t tell how long Terren had gone or when they came back, but at some point they were sitting next to her on the couch, epad in their lap. Hercula woke from her doze, smiled, then leaned against their shoulder before dozing again.

When she woke again it was because it felt like someone was pounding loudly against her head. It was dark, the lights were out, and Terren was still next to her. They pushed her off, muttering, and rose to get the door. The pounding stopped, replaced by an angry voice.

“Nathan,” said Terren. “You’re going to have to go to Myron and Captain Mackinder with this.”

“You’re really not taking a death threat seriously?”

“I have no authority, and I’m not a cop,” said Terren. “Here -- let’s -- discuss this in the hall. Or your room.”

Terren left again, but Hercula stirred when they returned.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing to talk about now. Water?”

Hercula nodded. When Terren brought it back, she brushed the hair out of her face.

“Terren ... this, uh, doesn’t mean anything,” said Hercula. She knew how people interpreted things. “Me here. At night.”

“I disagree. It means you’re drunk.”

Hercula grinned at that. She did like Terren.

“I’m going to sleep,” she said, and laid down on the couch. She didn’t wake up again until the screaming. Someone was running down the corridor, shouting, and Hercula jerked awake, nearly falling off the couch. Terren touched her on the shoulder to keep her from getting up and went to the door.

“I’ll see what it is. You rest.”

Hercula dozed and woke when Terren returned.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There’s been a death,” said Terren, and Hercula was struck again by how much she appreciated their straightforwardness. “The Captain and Myron are handling it. You can sleep.”

Well, if the Captain and Myron were handling it, that was good enough for Hercula. She slept.