“There is– MORE? No, no, dear Marion. This is the part of me you never knew would come. My telepathic powers have–” I shook my head tersely as I haltingly explained what I have had to explain too many times before. I sighed. “Must I say this again if only to say it once more? Marion, when we were in rapport, it was only as a duty– I was blocking you from truly entering my mind because… because–” I broke off interjectingly. I just could not do this to this poor, young, beautiful girl. But I had to. “Marion, it is because your book is not good for me.”
She looked at me weepingly, silent with her sweet, girlish eyes. Must she make me prolong this torture! “My telepathic powers make me vulnerable to your clumsy, stilted style and convoluted plotting, Marionhia.” I added the Darkovian pet name, to soften the blow. “Marionhia, when we are in rapport, it is as if… it is as if–” I looked away, grievously, and then continued, explainingly, “…I fear my telepathic powers will absorb your childish, cumbersome prose!” I quickly added, confessingly, “And, beyond the shitty prose, those accusations are disturb–.” I glanced fleetingly at my beloved, girlish foe, and–
She was– GONE!
I had told her warningly. But she is no hero.