Back the same night, he'd said when he made her the proposition: dinner with him in Havana, in exchange for one dozen genuine sinners for her prayer-meeting, a chance to prop up her failing Mission. A chance for him to win a thousand bucks from Nathan Detroit.
Who'd have thought she'd be the one who didn't want to leave Cuba, or that he'd be the one insisting they had to catch the last plane? I've got to think what's best for you!
And here she is, Sergeant Sarah Brown, standing outside the Save-A-Soul Mission on Broadway, with Sky Masterson's jacket slung round her shoulders against the cold, not looking like a sergeant at all. Sober now, and a little shamefaced, and blinking curiously at a time of day she's never seen.
His time of day, the quiet of the city streets in the hour before dawn. Familiar as the feel of a pack of cards or a pair of dice, and yet it's as if he's seeing it for the first time, seeing it with her.
He'd boasted that his love would come as a surprise to him; he didn't know the half of it. What he wants with this woman is something he's never wanted with a doll before, and it scares him so much he can hardly breathe. He's lost his heart in a bet, and now all that remains is to give himself away entirely. To tell her what he's never told anyone before: his true name.