He frowned at the question, knowing at once that he wasn't the right person to answer and also knowing that there was no one else.
"My exact words," he said, easily recalling them, "Were, 'Please, let Oswin live in the form she imagines to be her own.'. I hadn't thought to specify a time frame."
And neither, he realized, had the City. Perhaps that meant that she got to live -- live the rest of her days -- in this form.
He wanted to ask if it ... if her body were exactly what she was expecting. He wondered if it felt the same to her, or if it was strange for more reasons than just the fact that she'd been living in something other than a body for so long. But the question seemed indelicate, and he didn't want to weigh her down with more than she wanted to process, herself.
He squeezed her hand gently, instead, meaning to comfort her.