Mindmistress: Zane...so sorry...the doctors think you'll be okay...to be safe, though, they ant to observe you overnight...looking for any sign of concussion.  Zane: Yeah. Fun date, right?Zane: I'm pummelled by professional fighters--and you come in and take them out easily.  I'm not even a good-- watchdog.  Mindmistress: You're a professor, not a fighter.  Zane: What of you?

Zane: I'm a professor.  My I.Q.'s near-genius.  I'm an accomplished actor.   Playwright.  An excellent fencer.  Yet--next to you...I feel...clumsy.  Talentless.  Moronic.  Why kid myself any more?Zane: You're scary.  You're...not...natural.  You're not just gifted...like an Einstein, or a Da Vinci...I feel like a neanderthal...dating a Rhodes scholar.  I give.  Mindmistress: Zane....not so fast.



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