"You can read my head," he says, or thoughts, but she's inside of his head. Vasquez takes a step back from her, like somehow this strange thing happening to both of them is only her fault, even though he knows that's probably not true.

"I asked if you could read my thoughts, only, in Spanish," he says, but he's grateful to know that because she can't understand Spanish fluently, he can probably still think safely. "Why can I read your thoughts?"