Volk moves his neck in a way that's not really a shrug and not really a head-shake - just something that expresses that he's having trouble articulating.

He goes to stories, as usual. Peter Pan's shadow is always running off and escaping him. It has to be chased, caught, sewn back on. When all of this started, he thought of himself as Peter, manipulating his shadow to make spectacular shows in Plato's cave - but life has a way of making everything turn on its head. He's sure he's the shadow, these days. Mute, restless, gone already when exposed to too much light.

"Somebody better than me. Smarter. Funnier. Has his shit together. Has a plan four steps ahead, to keep everybody guessing. I'd just be getting in his way."

He lifts his arms, drops them.

"People always say they thought I'd be taller, which is annoying. How'd we get on this subject. Nobody cares about this. Um. The owl has commlinks?"