"Oh, a publicist," she says, sounding amused, resting her chin on her hand, one elbow on the bar with her wine glass set down. She's tired herself, in a curiously restless way- exhausted, but not sleepy, and repelled by the idea of sitting in silence at home, gloomily perusing the network.

She holds out her free hand for one of the posters. "Convince me," she suggests. Distract me.