He pauses to choose his next words carefully. Along with being aware of other people's capacity to manipulate the musical energy surrounding and suffusing them, he has the impression that what remains in him and everyone else is just the dregs of something greater, scraps left over after the bulk has been collected. He guesses that Lesedi is gathering it from them, and if she needs them to produce it for her then it can't be coming from her. He's not sure, though, how smart it is to insinuate that she's taking the energy away from him, as though he feels any sense of propriety toward it.

He shakes his head slowly. "I don't really understand where it's coming from. Ma'am." He's not lying, at least.