Яппаньки вам,уважаем(ый)(ая)(ое)!

she said for what seemed the umpteenth time.

"What were you doing there?"

She had been keeping a deliberately patient expression plastered on her face, but it began to slip. "Stephen, what part of 'I don't know' is unclear? Look, this is me," she said with a tone of voice bordering on desperation. "If I knew what happened in there, I'd tell you."

"All right," Franklin said consolingly, clearly upset that he'd pushed her.

She put her fingers to her temple. "I'm sorry... I don't mean to be short with you. It's just... I'm as confused about this as you are."

He studied her a moment, weighing all the options. "It's possible that you were walking in your sleep," he said after a time. "Telepaths are sometimes prone to eccentric dream behavior."

She looked up at him. He didn't sound entirely convinced of the likelihood of what he was saying. Indeed, it seemed as if he was endeavoring to convince himself. She would have loved to make it easier for him, but unfortunately, she couldn't. "But I've never done that before," she pointed out.

"Which means it may have needed a trigger event for your subconscious to get things moving," he said reasonably. "Can you think of any reason why you would want to destroy the artifact?"

She appeared to be giving the matter a great deal of thought. "No," she finally admitted with great reluctance. "No... well, not really... I've just..." Her voice trailed off a moment. Franklin waited patiently for her to finish the thought. "Ever since it got here," she continued, "I've had the strangest feeling about it... like I'd seen it before somewhere. It makes me nervous. And before you ask, no, I don't know why. It just does."

He nodded, taking it in, but when he began to probe her further on the subject, she shut him down by saying,
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