Miranda: Have a seat. It’s fine, he’s not going to care.

Timothy: We can’t give our Beings anything physical to take with them when the “battle” here is over. But it turns out there’s one thing we can do that goes with them — We can write in them.

Miranda: You’re the only one of us who actually knows Reseda. Who cares about her, as a . . . close approximation of a person.

Either of us could draw a teleport-anchoring sigil on a spare corner of her Contract. But you’re the one who could actually reach her.

Besides — we already know I can come to the rescue if you get stuck. And I’m not sure that would work in reverse.

It’s . . . pretty obvious that I like you more than you like me.