A sympathetic tut, SAD, and he follows Benedict’s turn of the wheel without languishing any further on this larval Altus’s misfortune. He’s right. This is a professional conversation between two professionals.

“Oh yes,” matter-of-fact. “They’ve burrowed through the Imperium like shipworms.”

He’s veered a thousand miles away, just for a moment, with his mouth left open as if he intends to elaborate.

“Gorging themselves. Do you smoke?”