She's not preening, because preening would be unseemly... but the praise is going in her personal notebook. Good catch, and she didn't even have to press for it!!

Hardly, she's a librarian, not a spy, I've just been listening since we arrived. I'm good at being nondescript, and people here gossip like they want to be overheard. Which, likely, they do—part of the purpose of these functions is disseminating gossip through wider society. That's obvious just in reading political intrigue novels, let alone actually securing an invitation to such an event.

The link Ness can forge between minds gets stronger and longer-lasting the more they practice, but it still never feels quite long enough. It severs before Stephen can respond, and Ness takes a deep breath, shaking out the unconscious tension that always creeps into her shoulders while she maintains the connection. It's easy enough to re-establish, but too many links with no break in between and she can end up with a splitting headache.

"I wonder if the poor man might like some company," out loud, somehow both sardonic and utterly sympathetic at once.