"What makes you think I don't listen?" he asks. He listens. Takes in all the words, the tone, the history he knows. But he's an information extractor, not an information recorder – most of what he's handed are evasions and lies. He glances back, over his shoulder, toward Sato. "I tend to get what I'm looking for, anyway. How are you feeling? Pleasantly concussed, I hope. And as you haven't played fast and loose with the lights, yet..."