"Well, I don't know, you'd have to untie at least one of my hands and I'm not sure how much of a drawback you'd consider that."

And she holds out her hand, arm straight, hand extended invitingly.

"The parameters?"

"The..." He gestures helplessly. "I know how to be Miles. I don't know how to be me. I don't - understand what you're doing, or why, or what I want to do about it."

"Well, if I presented Miles with my hand like this he'd probably kiss it, so anything other than that is an option."

Mark blinks. "Hm. Yes..." He draws back a little. "But now I'm - I remember what happened last time you touched me. Thinking of what Miles would do just makes that worse."

"True." He still eyes her hand as though it might electrocute him on contact, but he approaches close enough to clasp it in the socially approved manner.

Shake, shake.

He lets go and backs away again, shivering.

She puts her hand in her lap and watches him.

"I don't understand you," he says.

"I do. Ask away."

"Are you angry with me?"

"I am a little frustrated with you. Not angry. After all," she adds, "you did apologize."

He smiles slightly, then shakes his head. "And that makes a difference?"

"Compared to just shooting me? Or for that matter continuing to attempt to pass as Miles to me? Yes."

"Why?"

"Well - in particular you said you were sorry for even trying. Well. Bothering. It's a signal that we aren't as determinedly opposed as it might otherwise seem. You don't want Miles's life, you don't want me, you don't want to hurt me, you regret doing it even incidentally for unrelated reasons. 'Under happier circumstances we could have been friends' is not friendship, but it is much closer to it than 'our strongest preferences are irreconcilable'."

"Oh, I don't want you to die either," he sighs.

"Is that new?" she wonders.

"Yes and no. There's a difference between - not wanting, and not wanting."

"Yes, I suppose there is."