[It's hardly fair that he won't talk about whatever personal family matter she'd known about before! She's about to point out that exact fallacy when he speeds on.

His - Adrian's - tone is consistently soft and flat, but he gives slight emphasis to certain words. Talk of 'magic' and 'will' sounds like something he's reciting from memory, a catechism meant to draw other knowledge to the surface. When nothing inside her answers, the thread of unease begins to fray into panic.]

None of that means anything to me. I want it to! I can tell you think it should! Is this normal? Is it normal to feel like--like I've missed a step in the dark when I try to recall something and there's just nothing there? Is the creation meant to help?

[Her grip on his arm tightens. She steps toward him, like a child sidling behind an adult's leg, shoulders hunching into his side]