Mindmistress: Zane...so sorry...the doctors think you'll be okay...to be safe, though, they ant to observe you overnight...looking for any sign of concussion. Zane: Yeah. Fun date, right?Zane: I'm pummelled by professional fighters--and you come in and take them out easily. I'm not even a good-- watchdog. Mindmistress: You're a professor, not a fighter. Zane: What of you?

Zane: I'm a professor. My I.Q.'s near-genius. I'm an accomplished actor. Playwright. An excellent fencer. Yet--next to you...I feel...clumsy. Talentless. Moronic. Why kid myself any more?Zane: You're scary. You're...not...natural. You're not just gifted...like an Einstein, or a Da Vinci...I feel like a neanderthal...dating a Rhodes scholar. I give. Mindmistress: Zane....not so fast.




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