"You really are the second-best detective in the world," Pamela said sarcastically.
"The best detective in the world would only give you the same conclusion, or an even worse one. We're not theologians." Tim snapped back just as irritably. "You can't expect to get everything with a prayer. Even God can't do that. I need evidence."
"Wasn't that long conversation enough evidence?"
"There was too little useful information. They sounded like they were just chatting." Tim sighed.
Pamela thought for a moment, then said, "I feel like this Doctor has a much better temper than the Professor. Do you think we could just go ask him directly?"
"Then he wouldn't tell the truth either. At least, not the whole truth. Once he thinks he has fooled us well enough, he'll stop talking."
"But we'd at least get a little more information."
"If you want to go, go." Tim shook his head in refusal.
Pamela suddenly laughed. She slid from the bedside onto the floor as well, wrapped an arm around Tim, and whispered in his ear, "Why do I always get the feeling that you're a little afraid of this Doctor? You aren't even afraid of the Professor."
"Why would I be afraid of the Professor?" The dark-haired boy was not moved in the slightest by the seemingly intimate gesture. He merely rolled his eyes and looked at Pamela.
"Because he's terrifying, obviously. He's always so fierce and inhuman."
"Yeah, but I finished my homework."
Pamela was left speechless. Thinking it over, Tim was clearly still too young to be exposed to any highly specialized psychological knowledge. At his age, as long as he had finished his homework, even punching a hole in the sky somehow seemed perfectly justified.
Pamela let go of him irritably and even shoved him. Looking