He listened to her answer, gleaning little of the information he really desired to know. It was like a smooth field of energy surrounded her, one that did not permit penetration. He found himself on the outside of it, thinking grimly that this was what he projected outwards to people too, most people — but usually not to her. It was certain she felt just as closed out by him, and he did not have a way to remedy that. Telling her about his dilemma, his pains and troubles, was not a possibility. After what happened a few nights ago in Whitechapel, things only seemed more dire. The night left him shaken, and cast doubt on the progress he thought to have made over the past years.

Samuel still gripped tightly on to the records he had taken from the library. There was this matter, too.

They were walking through the archway along the courtyards. When she returned his question, he abruptly stopped. Their shoulders brushed past one another and he caught the scent that always clung to her hair. The painful, contracting feeling in his core returned.

"Let's go out into this courtyard here," he suggested. "Find a place to sit. If you have the time, Themis.", he added, offering her a way out. Perhaps it would be better to part ways than to commit to this exercise in self-torment, he thought. But it seemed now just as out of reach to get himself to do that.

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