Yes. Definitely time to punch him in the face—although rage, now: rage is a great clearer-out of the mental attic, I will say that. It’s so sheer and sharp that I’m no longer confused. Stella, yes. I like Stella, and I honestly don’t give a shit if she’s mad or not. When we leave here together, which we will do, we will be of the Fifteen Hundred, and the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual applies to other people. If she believes she’s the reincarnation of my dead girlfriend and I say she is, then that is what her passport will say. It is what people will accept. I am Constantine Kyriakos, and I have ascended, in this moment, not to the role of Hierophant in some dead religion, but to the far more comfortable and powerful seat of motherfucking billionaire. Perhaps I should thank him for making things clear to me.