I stared at Iolo. "You what?"
"What?"
"You said... that Little Miss Priss was..."
Iolo's eyebrows rocketed up and into his hair. "I did not!"
"I heard you."
"... I thought that."
There was a long, long silence. Then Iolo said, "Did you really think Raoulin'man-us was hotter than a - "
I squawked. "Are you doing this too?"
"No! Erm, well, yes."
"Well stop it!"
"How, exactly?"
"You tell me. You're the dude with the fantasy food."
Iolo blinked. "Having fantasy food doesn't mean that I can turn off a telepathic communication."
"Y'know," I said thoughtfully, "if we can do this with each other, then maybe we can do it with other people as well."
"Like, read Domyn'c's thoughts?" Iolo grinned. "And find out what he angsts about."
"And why Alifvani's obsessed with 'e's in faeries..."
"And what Laratishn'nialyae daydreams about when she looks at Raoulin'man-us..."
"For a cynic, you can be surprisingly gross. Hey, what are you - "
"I didn't mean to think that!"
I rolled my eyes. "I wonder what Spot thinks of. Never mind Little Miss Priss, what does he think of, when he looks at Lorens?"
Iolo unfolded his long legs and got up. "Well, I'm going to find out. Coming?"
I followed him. "We need to try this with the barbarians, next time we meet them."
Scenario: Your character gets thrown in a fish pond by some bullies.
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