Vincente tilted his head slightly to one side. "Well," he began, "I hope I won't annoy anyone with this. I've gotten that you've grown up in London, but I can hear a little of Wales in your tongue already." He hesitated, wondering how personal to take his inferences to. "I can tell that you're worried about how people see you, and hope that they think you are clever and interesting. You might think your mum gets a bit fussy sometimes - you think rather a bit about your dad, but you, " he looked at Auden, "don't like him being brought up in conversation."
A short, awkward silence followed his words. Vincente Jarvis made a small, crooked, tentative smile. "See what I mean?"
An omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.
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