[ Booker huffs a laugh, shifting to accept the bottle with a grateful 'merci' and graciously takes a swig. ]

Mm. I agree with that. [ When done, he passes the bottle back to her, moving to sit up straighter, the bedsheet sliding down around his chest. He glances in her direction, wondering if it would be too familiar, too like them, to wrap an arm around her. ]

My brother would know how to answer that without hesitation. I, on the other hand, have struggled over the years with knowing when to do the right thing at the right time — for the right reasons.