"Pssst, Erin, come with me," said Bennett, as he took her by the hand and led her out to the colonnade by the Oval Office.
"What are you up to?" McCoy asked. "You've been acting strange all night."
They walked out to the Rose Garden, covered with snow and twinkling with lights. The air was soft and cool, no wind, not even a breeze. Out in the distance, McCoy could see the Washington Monument. It was still there, still standing strong, unmoved by the violence of the last days.
"I'm not real good at this," he said, conceding the obvious. "But here goes. I know we've been so busy with everything at Camp David and the State of the Union and all, but I was just wondering…"
He hesitated.
Jon Bennett could cut billion-dollar deals and Middle East peace treaties and drive a VW down the Rock of Gibraltar doing forty in the rain, but somehow this seemed hard.
"You were wondering what?" asked McCoy.
"I don't know. I'd just thought, if you weren't doing anything Saturday night that, perhaps…"
"Perhaps…"
"Perhaps you'd let me take you out to dinner somewhere, anywhere you'd like to go. You don't have to commit to marriage or anything. Just a nice dinner, you know, to say thank you for all I've put you through."
McCoy couldn't help but laugh.
"A suicide bombing, a siege in Gaza, a war on Gibraltar, and a helicopter ride from hell? Yeah, dinner and a movie really ought to cover it, Bennett."
Bennett laughed, too, and gently wiped away a snowflake from her cheek.
"Well," he said, "at least it's a start."