Her switch from a cop on the take to paying customer had improved his vocabulary, she noted. They walked to a white table between two red chairs. He sat and took her hand, its crudeness glaring under the lights, then screwed a digital monocle into his right eye. His touch was cold and hard; he flipped her fake flesh back and forth. Absorbed in the task, he repeatedly ran tweezers down her palm, changing the monocle’s focus each time. Moments passed before he sat back and studied her.