Grief. She gets a lot of grief, and fear, and self-hatred. Inchoate anger at the government and the world.

A comfort. The warmth of a hand, clutching it. Eventually, hope. Eventually, forgiveness.

Are there facts, usually she gets facts and not just emotional impressions, and in this instance she's specifically looking for them--

The sound of prayers, sometimes an Our Father but often thy will be done, over and over again. thy will be done, thy will be done, thy will be done, let this cup pass from my lips yet not my will but thine be done.

It was a gift from the owner to Leo. In gratitude.

It's still freaky when she goes blank like that. Sal's aware that this by itself doesn't warrant an emergency but he's still gonna watch Inaaya like a hawk.

Right.

Inaaya blinks, and she's looking at Leo Aarons again.

"Whoever this belonged to was grieving, and scared, and very angry. At the government, at the world, at something they didn't have words for really. This was a comfort, to them, and eventually something that symbolized hope and forgiveness."

"They prayed over it, sometimes an Our Father but mostly just 'thy will be done' over and over. It was a gift from its owner to you, out of gratitude. I don't know how long you've had it in that drawer; I would guess it's been a while."

"It belonged to a patient of mine, who was accused of committing a murder, and was religious."

"She did say thy will be done over and over. Her first doctor thought it was schizophrenia." He scoffs. "It was prayer. Anyone would pray in that situation."

"I am impressed, Miss Sinope. How did you do that?"

And now comes the part of this where she makes her very strange claim.

"Magic," she says, perfectly calmly, "is real. Some people can do it. I'm among them; Roby was too. It's how he killed his father and sister and I'd guess it's how he killed two of your nurses. And yesterday, when we spoke to him, he said it didn't matter whether we got him out or not, because he was going to be free soon regardless; he refused to elaborate."

"...what."

She soldiers onward.

"I can demonstrate again with something with an even weirder and harder-to-guess history, if that would help; I can try introducing you to other people I know who can do impossible things, I understand that this is a bizarre and extremely unlikely claim and you have very little reason to believe me."

"...There are plenty of fortunetellers and cold readers in the world, Miss Sinope."

"I don't know how a stage magician did a trick but I know that there is one."

YEAH. SHE KNOWS. SHE IS ALSO A COLD READER. IT ISN'T HELPING.

"I know. And you don't have any reason to believe me, I know."

"And you're claiming that Roby's murders are, what, psychic? It's absurd."

"The probable murder method we've seen firsthand," Sal says, using dryness to cover up embarrassment and sudden echoes of fear. "The byakhee Roby talks about are real, and his method of summoning them fits with everything else we know. But taking you out to see a massive flying beast that can tear through a grown man doesn't seem like the safest step."

"Of course you can't prove it."

"I said it wouldn't be safe. If you want to go anyways there's nothing stopping you."

"We've -- come across a lot of strange and dangerous things, over the past several weeks. This isn't just something we're claiming because if magic is possible it could explain anything. But -- it does rely on seeing and testing and knowing that there are some supernatural things out there, as a starting point."

"You seem like a nice girl, Miss Sinope. I am sure you believe what you're saying."

"But I'm a man of science, and I don't believe in supernatural explanations."

"Now, if you don't mind, there is a murder for me to investigate."

"...We should at least give you the notes on our own investigation. So if you do decide to look further into it you'll know how we reached our conclusions and what our sources were."

"All right." He is visibly impatient.

Inaaya's been taking notes this whole time and has prepared a copy; she has a sheaf of papers available to hand over. Claims are meticulously labeled with their sources, how much she trusts their sources, and how much credence she gives the claim.

"Thank you for your time and I'm sorry for wasting it."

"Thank you. Keep safe."

Please please please keep safe from whatever is happening in this place.

By the time she gets back to the inn the embarrassment has evaporated in the sunlight, leaving Inaaya a tiny ball of other emotions, like "rage that magic is a secret for some reason," "grief that Valentine Donovan is probably never going to see the sun again," and "anger at the entire state of the world, just, like, broadly."

She slams open her own door and is ready to start pulling her hair and screaming and then instead there's Oscar and Terrence.

"...hi."

"Hello." Inaaya seems deeply unhappy and Oscar feels a brief pang of guilt. "I'm really sorry to interrupt but we need your help-- Jing Yi is unconscious."

"Good morning! Where were you?! Jing Yi's in a coma."

".... Are you alright?"

"I was talking to Dr. Aarons. I'm fine."

There goes his opportunity to speak to Terrence alone about Roby.