Arthur exhales slowly, relaxing into the movement of Crichton's fingers across his skin. This is a rare power you have, Crichton, and with it comes great responsibility.

"Oh?" he says, curious-- and then a moment later, catching the intonation, in realisation: "...Oh." It is, for the record, a good 'oh', if a surprised one: it took dying and resurrecting for them to try anything like that before. But then, Christmas is also a pretty big deal, so...

So that's what's circulating in Crichton's mind palace. Not, in fact, the burning desire to read him acclaimed 1937 children's classic The Hobbit.