He does not step back when she approaches closer still, though his head draws back slightly and his ears flatten like a housecat unable to decide whether it has been startled or offended. Had she stayed in place or retreated he'd have known how to react; had she approached like the challenger he assumed most to be he'd have known the same. But this - as though the question of who ought to stare down the other simply does not occur to her at all - throws him.

Woman, are you addled? he does not say. There is something of magic flickering at his senses now, like a pale-winged moth seen out of the corner of one's eye in the evening. It would take too long a moment to study it properly.

"You were on that device," he does say. "I recall it now. You chose not to waste my time arguing your innocence. That was wise."