He showed up
Nothing in his hands.
She'd learned to read the nothing-in-his-hands the way she'd learned to read Bettany's clipboard posture and Fenn's call-versus-letter distinction. Nothing-in-his-hands was the specific Otto mode for things that were large enough to arrive without preparation.
She opened the door.
He looked at her.
"I need to tell you something," he said.
"Come in," she said.
He came in. Sat at the table. Looked at his hands.
She sat across from him and waited, because this was the specific Otto mode that required waiting.
"When I was nineteen," he said, "our father had a bad year. You were in your second year of medical training and I was trying to finish school and he couldn't work for eight months and I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry and I
