"No one is as a pretty as me," I say, and I keep smiling at him because I can see that it is bothering him. He does not really remember flirting, does he? It makes my smile twitch up.

"People are scared of it," he adds, and his expression is flustered. It makes me want to goad him. I make my stroking of his hand very, very light and slow. His old self would have tried to touch me by now, even if he thought he might be rejected. He is such a child again.