She started praising him. Extensively, enthusiastically, with the particular brand of complete honesty that had always been one of the things he found most genuine about her. His strength. How cool he'd been in the battle. How extraordinary it had all been to watch.
And then, with the same complete honesty and no particular awareness of the specific timing, she mentioned her father and Archon Vyra.
"Even Aunt Vyra," she said cheerfully, her face still buried in his chest, "her strength is nothing compared to even your clone. And Father—"
She giggled.
"Father is not even a tenth of what your clone was."
Leon's spatial awareness, which had been passively tracking the general landscape around them, caught a very specific piece of information.
