Interest brightened his face despite himself.
“What do you need done?”
“Circuit traced. Components tested. Anything usable cataloged.”
“Live power?”
“No.”
“Useful?”
“Yes.”
“Or therapy useful?”
“Both.”
He looked at me.
“At least you admitted it.”
“You would know.”
“How long?”
“One hour.”
“Two.”
“Ninety minutes.”
“Until lunch.”
“No.”
His eyebrows rose.
“That was fast.”
“You become exhausted before you notice it.”
“So do you.”
“I’m not recovering from brain trauma.”
“You’re recovering from me recovering from brain trauma.”
The accuracy of that nearly made me smile.
“Ninety minutes,” I repeated. “Then food and rest.”
“Tomorrow too?”
“If today goes well.”
His expression changed.
Hope arrived carefully.
