He hesitates, and so she hesitates too, her smile slowly slipping as she realizes she's overstepped. Even after he nods and opens the door for her, it takes a moment for her to decide what to do. When Ness finally does slip into his thoughts, it's more gentle than usual, a polite and unobtrusive slink into the back of the room.

She's not puppeteering him—though she could, maybe, for a few minutes at least. There's a lot she could do, she thinks, levers she could pull and switches she could press—but that's not what she's here for. Seeing through Stephen's eyes isn't quite the right way to describe it—she's not hijacking his senses, more seeing what he sees like it's a moving portrait, filtered by his thoughts and impressions and focus.

Her stump through his eyes is... well, it's about as unsightly as it had seemed from her less than ideal vantage point. The scar is only just starting to settle in, raised and intense as the skin knits back together—not inflamed, though, not swollen or miscoloured. As far as she can interpret, it looks as healthy as they could hope for, and Stephen doesn't seem to see anything he didn't expect.

"Can you," she speaks out loud, it seeming more polite, then pauses, pulling her thoughts together. "Can you think more... purposefully? About what you see, from your professional perspective."