The unspoken truth was that in the past year Casanova had gone from unexpected distraction to a very loyal friend. She understood the traits that history had seemed to chose to focus on in regards to him, but that did not make them truly what mattered.

"Giac is a great deal more than that," Reinette added, her own gaze on the portly Casanova from before. "As are you Jack. You would like each other I think."

There was another small smile.

"And he might wish you to be an interesting notch on his own."

She was teasin, of course. Which Jack would know. Her gaze narrowed again, thoughtful.

"I believe that woman over there is supposed to be me."