For a moment it looks like he’s about to refuse, then he shrugs. "Timothy Telestrian," he says. "Elf metatype, age thirty." A digitized image—flat not holo, the telecom’s not that good—flashes up on the screen. Thin face, straight blond hair fine as a baby’s, cool blue eyes, arrogant expression. Typical elf. I nod, and Argent goes on, "Son of James Telestrian III, also elf metatype ..."