"A mess? You?" Luther echoes, and there's some real incredulity in his voice. Some of their family members had been far more chaotic in their interior design, and Space and Rumor's bedrooms could get somewhat cluttered, but it had always been relatively clean and orderly. They'd tidied up after themselves. (Good children put their toys away, and good soldiers put their weapons away.) And if they ever forgot to clear up on rare occasion, then Mom was inevitably there on her restless daily rounds, puttering around and folding their clothes and making their beds. The mansion was orderly because they had no alternative but to be.

"I promise not to judge," he adds a moment later although, yes, that had sounded very much like judging.

The next question is inevitable, too, as he picks his way through learning more about her. This little snapshot of a life that he hadn't had any firsthand glimpses into before, only what drips and drabs of information had bled into her letters. "And so what's Bea like? You must like her enough, if you're still living together while everyone else comes and goes."