Stephen is struck by the fact that he’s sitting here soothing a teen girl’s anxieties, his one sleeve sheared off and arm bared to the elbow, her own bloodied with it. What a situation. There’s a helpless laugh bubbling up in the back of his throat but he doesn’t let it out.

“Ennaris Tavane,” he says, a little sharp in order to drive the point home.

“I don’t lie to people to coddle their pride. I don’t soothe with empty flattery; I would never bother, it would be a waste of my time and yours and inaccurate besides. You are good at your job. You hit the ground running and embraced responsibility, what, a mere month after your arrival? It took me a year to come around on it and decide to commit. Whereas you jumped in and immediately started getting your hands dirty tackling supply issues, the penicillin manufacture, the trade for glass and paper.

“So, yes. I mean it.”