Vincente shook his head at Fox. "No, I've always been alone. No siblings, I mean, not alone as in lonely."
He watched, with vague alarm, as the children began bickering. "Have you ever read Hercule Poirot?" he decided to ask. "He's a detective, too, but he's really not energetic. He's a short, fat old man, but he's very clever. Instead of running around with a magnifying glass, he talks to people and deduces things from what they say."
An omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.
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