If she can really read minds, Zocco’s sure she must not think much of him.

“Not that it’s anything like reading,” Chopine says, “and not that what I think of you should matter, but you happen to be wrong.”

A snatch of song, a brief sexual fantasy featuring her, and resentment sweep through Zocco’s mind; the last because she can tell when his kindness is forced, but not vice versa.

“You’re becoming more aware of your own thoughts already.”

The little cues in her voice say she’s mocking him, but gently. With affection?

“See,” Chopine smiles, “you can do it too.”