Emory had two cups of tea.
He pushed one toward the empty seat.
Dax sat.
They sat in the specific Emory silence for a moment — the silence of a man who does not speak until he has something to say and never says anything he doesn't mean. Dax had come to find this quality restful. After a lifetime of rooms full of people who spoke primarily to fill space, Emory's silence was one of the most relaxing things he had encountered.
"She looks well," Emory said.
"Yes," Dax said.
A pause.
"Happy," Emory said. Like he was confirming something he'd been watching arrive over several months and had just now reached a definitive reading on.
"Yes," Dax said.
Another pause.
"Good," Emory said.
They drank their tea.
After a while Emory said: "She didn't sleep well for years. When she was a chil
