[She hadn't noticed - or at least hadn't commented on his moment's distraction, and whichever it was, he was glad for it. He was not sure hw to communicate his thoughts on that to her, nor if he ought to, at all. Not when he could be sure of nothing. He was still not sure how much anything he had said to Hawk was rooted in reality - the other man's reality, which could be nothing at all like his own - and was not happy at what amounted to reassembling a fragile vase of clay in pitch darkness. It was almost better to have to have to discuss what he was learning - no, what he was suspecting of himself.]

I agree. But without the information, it's the same either way. [His voice was soft. He knew that she was basically humoring him in not getting to the point.] They are hints - but do they indicate past deeds? Or perhaps inclinations? Some hardly speak of deeds at all, nor do they all point to infamy. [One hand brushed lightly against another - the characters crowding on his skin, spelling out verses on the art of war and strategy. To him, these were the most mysterious of all.]