[The touch turns his head, her fingertips cool against his skin — he has no choice but to look back at her, unable to conceal the surprise that washes over his face. Against such certain confidence, his own uncertainty dims.

What does she see when she looks at him? For a moment he's crippled by the thought of that question, cut to the naked bone. Glimpses. Glimpses of what? Perhaps all of it, all of his mistakes, are projected by the light of the stars that she reads, and it was known from the beginning.

Or perhaps it isn't so clear, but her genius is enough. The magnificence of that power is all she needs.

Feeling shaken, he stands, brushing off his lap as if he was the one nibbling on a biscuit.]

Your belief in me is... too kind, Miss Megistus. Allow me to consider it seriously then.

[Listen, he's still recovering from being a cult leader.]

I should leave you to your breakfast now.