Yeah? Maybe that's what I should do. Leave the military and read palms for a living.

[He wouldn't mind making up bullshit on the fly if the job paid well. Yael would like to think he has a pretty good read on people, but he's not omniscient. That splash of disapproval only furthers that notion, but Yael takes it with grace, lifting a hand to pat that mess of pale hair once more. He's the one who fucked it up in the first place, but that's not the point.]

29. One foot in the grave, right? That ought to give me some authority.