[The conversation changing gears seems to sap the levity out of Booker -- he knew more or less this is what she wanted to talk about, but whether or not he's doing better just seemed like a moot question these days. Did it really matter?]
The sleep helped some, I guess. [His hands are clasped around the coffee cup, and he idly stares down at the warm liquid. The scar on his hand stares up at him, but he tries to ignore it.] I ain't so tired anymore.
[He knows that's not exactly what she meant. He's giving her the run around.]
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The sleep helped some, I guess. [His hands are clasped around the coffee cup, and he idly stares down at the warm liquid. The scar on his hand stares up at him, but he tries to ignore it.] I ain't so tired anymore.
[He knows that's not exactly what she meant. He's giving her the run around.]