[Oh. This is unusual. It is his memory but he...is this child, then? He seems just as uncertain about it as Krile is, all told. The smile does not fade.]

You were a good deal bigger. [If asked, she would admit she prefers him at this size. The chance to look someone in the eye without any inconvenience whatsoever is about to become nonexistent.]

This is no dream, or not wholly one. It is something you remember. Because of that, I believe it cannot be changed.

[And at once, the probable truth about his search and his certainty converge in Krile's thoughts.]

When you said it had been a century, I thought it indicative of the long lifespan of your people. [Up on the station, he was earnest and determined; here he is still those things, but also sad. The sense of grief is all over this memory even without help.] But it is also the measure of your sorrow.

[She looks at him, clearly intending a silent 'is it not?']