Moby Dick, maybe, [ Hollis hums, watching the smoke exhaled from her lips dissolve into the night air. ] but, if you insist, sentimentalist it is.

[ Another laugh, then, just as low as the first. ] I never could refuse you anything. [ He shifts, tugging once against the hold she has on his wrist. He can feel her powers working already, like the whistle of a kettle, growing higher and higher in pitch in his head, through his whole frame. ]

So, what'll it be, Becks?