So . . . we did meet before. [That much, at least, can be gleaned from the words.] You know us. Well enough to know our names.
[The way she says Shinichi's name, too . . . no honorific, bare in confident intimacy. Her mind flashes back to the dressing table in the dream before Vermouth awakened, all the photographs and articles piled onto the surface.] We . . . must have made an impression.
[And yet . . .]
But I don't remember meeting you. [The words are confused, wondering, almost a little helpless, her brow puckering. Her memory for faces has always been so good -- and Vermouth is so distinctive. How can she not remember such a person?]
no subject
[The way she says Shinichi's name, too . . . no honorific, bare in confident intimacy. Her mind flashes back to the dressing table in the dream before Vermouth awakened, all the photographs and articles piled onto the surface.] We . . . must have made an impression.
[And yet . . .]
But I don't remember meeting you. [The words are confused, wondering, almost a little helpless, her brow puckering. Her memory for faces has always been so good -- and Vermouth is so distinctive. How can she not remember such a person?]