[...] Balfour said with infinite circumspection, "And how is your - how is your latest?"

"Nearly done." And he didn't go on to add—because he couldn't see that far ahead, because men can't see further than the next fight or fuck—that his latest might be his last. Not just couldn't see: couldn't look. That couldn't be looked at either.

"If for any reason you don't find a home for it, I would of course be proud to publish it under the Tantalus imprint."