She purses her lips, narrows her eyes—trying to divine his angle, trying to work out where he means this to go so that she can get two steps ahead, three, as many as necessary. She could read his mind to do it, and he wouldn't even have to know. Won't, but she could.

There are approaches to weigh—casual, sitting in the chair across from him, animated in debate; formal, like a student reciting their thesis, stood at attention with hands behind her back. When it comes to something this important, Ness always errs on the side of formal. She raises her chin, and clasps her hands behind her back.

"One: No one knows how much time they have. Accepting the impermanence of life is important, and we can't try to circumvent it lest we become evil lich-kings feigning godhood ourselves.

"Reasonable caution, however: Do you not encourage people to limit their risk factors? I've heard your grumbling about people smoking. Drinking to excess must be limited not just for the sake of one's work and temperament, but also because it damages the organs and could lead to illness and death. The anchor shard is not just a risk, but a guarantee of a premature death. It is a risk factor, I want to limit it."