He was watching, watching closely. Good.
She reached across her body with her right hand, never taking her eyes from her father, because he was the one who would know; if he understood, he would translate.
Trisha tapped the visor of her cap, then pointed her right index finger up at the ceiling.
The smile which lit his face from the eyes down was the sweetest, truest thing she had ever seen. If there was a path, it was there. Trisha closed her own eyes on his understand-ing and floated away into sleep.
Game over.