She walked into the room. He looked at her, she at him and they smiled. He knows she is going home with him tonight. She walked toward him smiling. “Bea, I need a drink,” passing by to embrace her friend chatting with the group he could not see. He looks down at the cocktail napkin matted against the sweaty glass of whiskey on the rocks, watered down from standing too long alone. She will never know the awkward moment averted by his shyness.