Well, because if it meant that, we'd all be complaining of boredom, all the time. We're made of terrible longings. Or I am, aren't you?

[Never entirely solid on his feet, he leans in slightly to Byerly's steadying hand, and closes his eyes.]

Skuchno. It sounds better when you say it. Is that what your accent reminds me of? But you know french too, n'est-ce pas? What a queer combination the future is.

[The little creature gives up Prior's neck for Byerly's hand just as Prior's eyelashes flutter open.]

Ah - abandoned.