The boy freezes like a mouse spotted by a serpent and inwardly he sighs again. Is this really what he has to work with for the next generation? Outwardly he gently touches two fingers to each of the boy’s temples and gently pushes his mind towards the flitting, panicky one in front of him. A thought -- insulting and terrified -- shoves against his mind and a bigger panic grows. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it."