The Eye of the Beholder

[Sören]

Not a lot. A disappointing answer. He did not break the grip of silence, having little more to say to address her brief display of bravado. Apparently she took that as an expectation on his part to pry into her business, for she began talking. Again. His lips twitched, but he did not interrupt, if the lay of his expression did not speak much of interest either.

“There is nothing I can do to help that,” he said bluntly, assuming it was what she was asking. It was a conversation he had had before, and the tone of his voice had that sort of rote to it.  “The way the power is split between the sexes makes it impossible to teach the opposite.”

Of her warnings, he said little. His networks spanned such that he did not fear being caught unaware, and those protections ought to have protected Morven too. She was not dead, he did not think. He would certainly prefer she were not.

The we was met with some dubiousness, but he accepted that she would help. A nod followed on the heels of her wallet’s alert, and he let her go.