Strange puts her cue back in the case, leaving a full rack on the table for anyone else who wanted to shoot a few. Cue, concertina, and empty glass in hand, she slides quietly to the end of the bar and queries Lej with an upraised eyebrow--got any more of that wassail?

"Oh, yeah," she gasps after a healthy swallow, "the Glenlivet was an inspired touch. Thank you!" More carefully, she finishes the glass. Lej tries to pour her another one, but she smiles and shakes her head, covering her glass with her hand. "Later, maybe. One's enough for now."

She heads for the door, stopping by the coatrack to don her jacket. She looks back over her shoulder, wondering which of this motley crew had sung that heartrending song about the soldier. Even in the middle of all else on her mind, that song had brought tears to her eyes and a sharp painful memory of Dave. She smiles, remembering his courage and his truly weird sense of humor...

Man, whatever the chef was putting together sure smelled wonderful! She hopes she'll be able to come back when the competition's over. "No guarantees," she thinks. "Just give it your best shot, girl."

Quietly she opens the door and slips out to her waiting pickup and the long snow-covered road heading south.