Maria smiles immediately. "You are a nice lady. Not an assface at all." Her nails are perfect, Neith notices, rich dark red and very round. The arms emerging from the towelling sleeves are narrow but very muscular. The woman follows the line of her gaze. "Surgery," she explains. "Sometimes you have to waggle things about. Ronald, the lady came to show you something! Pay attention!" But the imperiousness is softened, Neith sees now, by the light touch as she passes behind her husband, the squeeze that is both benediction and need. They are in step, these two, and she has no need of Oliver Smith’s kinesic assistant to tell her so.