There's something in the hesitation that catches her ear, a quality to his voice when he does answer that's not quite right. Vanya is... lying? No, he's not a liar, and he does have that mage friend he writes frequently. (Why does she know that?) But he's not telling the whole truth, either. Ness frowns to herself over it, eyes still on the bookshelves even though she's not really thinking of them anymore.

In an ideal world, she's not quite so careful about speaking her mind. She doesn't have to be; no one's going to toss her out on her ass for being the slightest bit inconvenient.

"I said if you don't mind me asking, Messere," she says gently, because she's more straightforward but no more unkind, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. There."

She points to the top row of the bookshelf, just barely reaching the lip of the shelf with her fingertip, and smiles at him over her shoulder. If he's concerned that he's offended her, he needn't be. Some part of her still understands keeping things close to the chest.

"The book you want is up there, top shelf. I have a step ladder around here somewhere, I keep misplacing it..."