A pause.
Gwen looked at his face. At the mild patience in it. At the particular quality of 'this morning' in his voice.
She looked at her mother's crossed ankles in her memory. The rebuilt composure. The robe that had been too straight.
Her pointed ears went back.
"...What happened this morning," she said, very carefully.
"Your mother and I had a conversation," Viktor said.
"What kind of—"
Seventh leap.
He chose excellent timing. Gwen's question dissolved into the vertical rush of air and when they landed her train of thought had been physically displaced by approximately half a mile of altitude. She pressed her mouth together. Filed it. She would return to it. She would absolutely—
"You said she 'already knows,'" Gwen said, narrowing her eyes. "Before 'this morning.'"
"Yes."
"So it's nothing to do with this morning."
"I didn't say that."
