"It's terrifying for her," he can confirm: and there were times it was like that for him, where a prediction could just as easily slump him in one of Mark's chairs, but they never caused him actual pain. He didn't struggle to contend with them, or clutch at his head in their wake. Mark could be right--it's something or someone else.

Kira sits where he's pointed, his sprawl hardly unusual, but at least one hand grips an edge of his seat as if to keep him there. "No," he answers, glad Mark seems to have enough grasp on the concept to name it. "It was as weak as when I arrived, then disappeared again. Every--it's a couple of weeks, then days without, then it comes back, stronger than before. I had a kind of token, to help me control it, but I don't know how to make a new one. Which probably sounds crazy, but Bodhi claims to have hauled freight in space and grown up in a magic crystal religion."