"You look tired, mostly," she tells him, kissing the end of his nose. "Which is striking compared to your usual. But all right." And she goes and turns the comcomsole so it doesn't include the bed and calls Tsipis, and they talk about fungibility and the parable of the broken window and the estimated production date for the physical casing of Cordelia's pen, by which time Linya optimistically hopes to have a serviceable software package set up. (There will, of course, be updates later.)