Enoch knocks back the blue shot, which isn't that bad, even if he can feel every bit of the vodka entering his bloodstream now. He can recognise lies from the shadow impression they create—an illusion created by words, half-concealing the truth. There's no such shadow over what Crysta says, which is revealing in a different way.

"Obviously not true, and rather hurtful," he says, not sounding that hurt. "But I can't sense it, which means that alcohol does dampen this new power. Hold on." He holds up a finger as he thinks up another statement to check. "Raine doesn't piss me off anymore." Enoch tilts his head, then sighs. "Right. Not completely dampened."