"You know," says Mark, observing the game, "it would be fun if those pens could network a little more closely. Multiplayer games, collaborative design projects."

"Tell Linyabel. Maybe it's in the works for the next big system update."

"Maybe I'll mention it on the way out."

"...There's something to that, isn't there," says Miles, getting out his pen to send Linya a quick note about Mark's suggestion. (As far as he knows, she hasn't tried it yet, and he does more or less keep on top of these things.)

"Something to...?"

Pens can share drawing maps, but more integration of that sort of thing is on the way; some third-party game developers asked about it, Linya writes back to Miles.

"To Mark being nicer when he had me tied to a chair."

"Are you going somewhere with this?" he inquires.

"Let's not go back to being tied to a chair with it."

"I wasn't planning on it, no. Just - it's odd. Most people are less nice in that sort of situation."

"When they can get away with it."

"And this implies that you are, what, a font of altruism bursting to get free? Somehow I don't think so."

"No," he agrees.

"Are we psychoanalyzing Mark? Is this not likely to be hazardous to one's mental health?"

"I'm not contagious."

"Which you know because of your doctorate in psychology."

"I practically have a fucking doctorate in Miles."

"Which, to return to the topic at hand, you've been using to irritate and unsettle me since you stepped into this cave. Sort of a change from the last time we met. I'd really rather you stopped."

Ivan has no comment on this one.

"But it's so much fun."

"...You are in an absolutely foul mood in there, aren't you? It's hard to tell, you're so cheerful about it."

"Bar makes really good drinks if you want to take the edge off. First one's free. There's these pink things, they're delicious."

"Thanks," he says, grinning. There is definitely an edge to it. "I can always count on you to make me feel better, Ivan."

"Sorry."