Heat rises beneath the hard planes of his bony face, stings at his eyes, wrung back by a tendon-cracking flex at the back of his jaw. It stays set out of alignment for a moment. He sniffs. Dry, as if in evidence. A steady breath clears the rest.

And he’s back again, locked onto her knuckles at his knee as to assert to himself that they’re the only part of her really here for him to have this very normal and professional conversation with.

“Not directly.”