( she looks blankly back at him for a moment, then seems to realise—she's already shaking her head before she speaks, some thread of rueful amusement in it, in spite of herself— ) That doesn't count.

( that is a matter of perspective, but: that's definitely her perspective. what's the harm in convincing someone that it's fine if her dog comes into their establishment? she's not abusing their free will if she could probably persuade them to do it without the extra push. she's persuaded places in aefenglom to let him sit under her table and she can't compel them the same way.

no; that's fine. it's just a little thing and it's allowed. )

No, I mean, in self-defense. I think if someone died because they pointed a gun at someone who could make them turn it on themselves, that actually is suicide because it's suicidally fucking stupid. I've never done that, ( thoughtfully, and with scrupulous clarity, ) but I know I could have.

I couldn't explain it, you know? Why would someone go to all the trouble of drugging me, putting me in a car, driving me out of London—and then just let me go when I told them to? I couldn't find a reasonable explanation for that, so there had to be an unreasonable one. And there was.