It's a fine alteration that comes over her person. Stood there in the close space of his little office, some quality in her shoulder and spine shifts by a degree. By two degrees. Or maybe it's that the tough little heels of her solidly soled yellow boots set more firmly against the floor. Or there is the faintest furrow of her brow. Or the set of her mouth. Or—

"You might say I have some expertise with the procedure in question."

Her chin lifts by just the slightest degree.

"Tell me, how many rifters have you've known that disappeared?"