A what, sorry? Good Lord, spare me from Americanisms. I'm in your apartment because it's a good way of learning more about you and my mind is far sounder than yours has ever been.
[He's not too happy either, but at least he's got a problem to solve, his mind clicking through logical processes at incredible speed. He sniffs the pages of the book she'd made fly through the air, tears off a glove with his teeth to stroke over the back cover again, and then spins on his heel to narrow his eyes at her.] The book. Explain what you just did to the book.
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