Yogo took a long puff from his pipe, leaned his head back and may have been looking at the ceiling. Ayame wasn’t entirely sure if his eyes were open any longer or not. It probably didn’t matter anyhow, at least he wasn’t staring at her anymore. The silence dragged on. She pretended to be interested in anything else in the room but him, but after looking at the single picture on the wall for the fifth time, and readjusting the teaspoon again it was proving to be a difficult task. She glanced over at Yogo, he was puffing away and drinking himself surely silly. Perhaps if he kept this up she could get through this night without having to fend for her dignity. Yogo had made more than one attempt to get into her bed. Even spoken about it to other people! It was mortifying… at least, at the time it was. The thought didn’t seem to be such a horrible one at the moment.
