"I ask the people upstairs, the ones I sometimes report to. This shit doesn't go unnoticed." Whistler chewed his thumbnail temporarily, a horrible habit he thought he'd shaken. But it wasn't a good idea to light up a smoke in a library.

"I usually see possible futures, but they're personal, not geographic. 'Sides, something about this town that clouds my vision. Like, I can't get a reading on you at all. It's like..." The Agent searched for a reasonable metaphor. "You stretch out from genesis to rapture, but you're just a teenage girl."