Elenore might give no shits, but Kyle goes pink anyway. It's just how he's wired. "Aw, dude," he says, but he does what she says. Shirt knotted, he nods carefully.

"Yeah," he concedes. "But. I mean. You saw it too, right?" His hands fumble through the air as he moves to stand up. He could use one of the mirrors for support, but he doesn't want to. He's afraid he might feel another hand reaching through.

"It's me, but it's NOT me. Nore, what does that MEAN?"