"I promise, you can just go home afterward--all I want is your company and conversation for maybe another hour or so. Is that okay?" He squeezed Gunner's hand again; it was calloused, but warm. He wouldn't mind having hands like that touching hiim all over, but he chose to keep the thought to himself. Gunner seemed nervous.
He drained his martini in one gulp and stood up, ignoring the burn. "Let's go," he said, leading Gunner outside.
-x-
Duncan's house wasn't cramped; rather, it was cozy. There wasn't a couch, and the kitchen table barely held place settings for two, but the furniture he had was well cared for and there were decorative touches strewn about, paintings on the walls and embroidered pillows on the armchairs.
He hung up his jacket on the coat rack and held his hand out for Gunner's.
"Make yourself at home."