"This is good of you," Daneel says at once, and without jealousy. "I have met Meyer, though not Charlie. He offered to teach me to play poker, but I declined. I can understand it must be difficult for him to cope, if they are friends. I am glad you are able to provide some comfort for him."

It triggers something he's been thinking of, something he's been reading of in the battered paperbacks he brought back from the library. He's been wondering how to apply this knowledge, but he seizes now upon the decision simply to ask.

"There is something I would like to ask you, Ned." And for once, he's not asking if he can ask the question; he's simply going to ask it, after announcing his attention and pausing long enough for Ned to interrupt and deny him. It's a small distinction, but an important one. "I have been researching human relationships, lately, and I have come to the conclusion that a major part of romantic relationships is the taking care of one's partner." A pause. "I don't mean to imply that this is your intention towards Meyer Lansky."

Though, truthfully, if it were, Daneel would gladly step aside.

"But it does seem that a major part of the the literature I have found consist of one party -- most typically a man -- takes care of and provides for the other party -- most typically a woman. Traditional gender roles are irrelevant in our case, of course, but the pattern remains. There is nothing I require for my own well-being, so that leaves me in the role of caretaker. At the same time, in this place I am not capable of providing for you the way is common in these books, and if I could, it would do you no good."

He is, unfortunately, very serious.

"I am concerned that my efforts will be insufficient, even if you don't believe this to be the case at present."