He<i>is</i>funny! I was right. His high falsetto and innocence bring about a high, clear laugh to ring from my mouth. it's the kind of laugh that develops deep in the stomach and is pushed out by the diaphragm. "Yeah," I say as I wick moisture from the corner of my eyes with my fingertips. "It doesn't get much bigger than this, kid. You're with the big boys now." I  winked at him and my dark eyes sparkled with both amusement and interest in the man sitting in front of me.<br/><br/>He has a nice voice. This....funny man that drinks alone and fantasizes about touching dreams that are nearly out of reach, has a very nice voice. It has a deep timbre and it was very soothing. I feel as if I can listen to it for hours. A silly, human fantasy enters my mind then. This man, Toby, reading to me in bed. Not a dirty book (no, no. I'm not that type of girl. Even though I'm sure that listening to him read a dirty book<i>would</i>make me that type of girl), no. But some classic. Something Shakespearean. His voice deserves as much.<br/><br/>As Toby goes on, I realize that he is not speaking to impress me, like many human men often do. Put a pretty woman in their face and suddenly they have a lot of money, drive the most expensive car, own the most inclusive and aged wine cellar, and sleep with the most beautiful women. Oh! I forget to mention- they have mansions as well.<br/><br/>Toby is different, though. Toby is genuine, and I cannot help but smile as he grants me small glimpses into his childhood. Before I know it, my drink is drained and I promptly order another.<br/><br/>The liquid is sweet and my dimpled cheeks flush with pleasure. I make a note to ask the bartender about this drink. I'd like to have it at home in nights when I am lonely and cold. Of course that doesn't happen often because I have a heated blanket, but it<i>would</i>be nice to have company. Like I mentioned...that smooth jazz voice of his.<br/><br/>Now, I consider myself an open woman. I like big men. Toby is big, and I like it. He's older, but I don't mind. He has a nice face. And he makes me laugh.<br/><br/><i>Brownie points to the gentleman on the left! </i>I think in my much less impressive smooth jazz voice.<br/><br/>I continue to listen as he speaks and I find myself both surprised and saddened to hear Toby refer to Janie as his late wife. I raise my glass in salute alongside my smooth jazzer and drain the contents of my drink. I order another.<br/><br/>Do not be disturbed, dear reader. Do not be concerned, and do not alarmed. Being a goddess means that my capacity to drink alcohol is greatly, greatly, greatly increased compared to a regular mortal.<br/><br/>The quintet's music calms my senses and I lean against the counter of the bar. Toby trails off and I catch his gaze and hold it intensely. I am aware that my gaze may burn, but I do not allow him to look away. "You never have to apologize about speaking of your Janie." I stretch my hand and touch my fingertips to his knuckles. "I would like to hear more about her."