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[retroductions]

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[ INMATE REGISTRY ]

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[retroductions]

Oh, you flatter me.

[Smiling, bright as always.]

But very well. Let me try once more.

[Closes his eyes this time — and though some form of miracle, manages to remain quiet.]

[velluminous]

[ she leans back into her seat, eyes on him.

a bare murmur, ] Now you are feeling for minute variations in air. Like breeze. Like breath.

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[ …

He listens. But then:]

Can I ask a question?

[Like a real student, here.]

[velluminous]

Yes. You may.

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How am I to know the vibrations or variations are what I am looking for? Or not the ones that emanate from your moving in your chair, or the ventilation system of the library, or an errant draft brushing by?

[The woes of noticing too much.]

[velluminous]

[ oh, that's a good question. she's pleased. ]

Well... for your examples. How did you learn to tell which is which? I think, right now, Weave will be silent thing to you. Noise that has always existed, and so you have always thought it was not there.

...Does this make sense?

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[And that does make sense; a fine and logical explanation.]

Ah, yes. Focus upon what is new and unusual, yes?

[Well, falling into silence again for a moment.]

[velluminous]

[ she does not expect him to find anything. this isn't a lack of faith, just sensibility: even Sprezzatura struggled at the very, very beginning

she reaches out to the "weave" that exists in Reverie and loops a strand around her nail, tugs it. ]

Feel that?

[ odds are, he doesn't ]

[retroductions]

Mm.

[He says, like he might.]

No, I feel nothing at all different or unusual.

[But alas.]

[velluminous]

[ she tugs the thread; a cool breath of air slides over his nape ]

Oh, no?

WHERE DID THIS TAG GOOOO

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[Oh, at that, he jumps a little. Sholmes does not open his eyes, but a hand comes up to brush at the nape of his neck.]

That I did feel. [He grins.] Yet something tells me that was hardly my own doing, hm?

[velluminous]

Well. One must show off now and then.

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And yet little good that does me, hm?

[velluminous]

Fine, then. Continue your feeling.

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[Well, then. He will.

In another showing of uncharacteristic patience from Sholmes, he falls into a silence a second time. But it lingers. And lingers. And he does not seem to note anything out of the ordinary.

Until—]

—ah!

[velluminous]

[ LEANS IN ]

Ah?

[retroductions]

[Don’t give him this much credit by being excited.]

I may have left the kettle on the stove back at Phoenix. I cannot quite recall…

[velluminous]

[ well the excitement is brief ] Herlock...

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Ah, no doubt you expected a reaction related to the lesson at hand? I am sorry to say that is not the case, but certainly not for lack of trying. Even if my mind did begin to wander.

[velluminous]

[ it seems so foreign to her now; she cannot clearly remember a time she couldn't sense the Weave, and it makes it hard to determine where to go now. ]

Perhaps we leave lesson here for morning.

[retroductions]

And give up so soon?

[He says it like a protest, but then leans back and kicks his feet up on the desk, digging about in his pocket for his pipe.]

We would do better to pinpoint the problem first. Perhaps there is a difference between you and I, beyond the obvious — something ingrained and inherent about being from one world, while I hail from another.

[velluminous]

...Of course. There must be.

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But what! A hidden essence that cannot be measured may as well not exist at all!

A mystery, indeed.

[velluminous]

[ she glances towards him, produces a matchbox from her pocket and holds it out ] Oh, you know better than to suggest that, Mister Sholmes.

[retroductions]

[He's stuffing his pipe with tobacco, having kept a bit rolled up in his other pocket -- probably not the best place for it, but what's a man to do in prison?]

Mm.

[Then he takes the matchbook from her, but not without wiggling it in her direction first as he tries to make his point.]

About requiring evidence, data, to best understand the world around us? I think it is a fine suggestion.