The Inspector’s hand flutters at the seam of her trousers, and she closes the fingers quite deliberately for a moment into a fist. It is the infuriating instinct of Constantine Kyriakos, vicariously learned, to tend to his balls, of which he is constantly conscious in a way she has not previously encountered in a received memory. She feels, even now after the other characters have been introduced, and plenty of time as herself, a phantasmal and irritating urge to scratch.