"...which is a no." She shakes her head. "Well -- that's even more of an excuse."

She holds up the book she's got; the hardcover is tattered, with threads coming off the edges and the binding, and whatever picture was on the cover isn't visible any longer.

"On loan." A small smile. "Belonged to my mother, and she let me have it when I left home -- good stories, for readin' and for readin' aloud. It's as much a part of gettin' over bein' sick or hurt as whatever awful-tastin' medicine they got in mind for you. And you can guilt people into readin' to you, too. That part's fun."