[Long description: The Oracle continues. “Perhaps this is all a little bit true… Or perhaps none of it is.”
She cocks her head at Frey, smiling politely. “What do you think?”
Frey watches her for a while, as she spools the tailor’s tape around her hand. The Oracle isn’t facing her, but she looks somehow self-satisfied.
Frey folds her arms over the crown of the chair and rests her head on it. She says, “I think those are a lot of pretty words, but… I was asking why I need to hold the measuring tape.”
The Oracle becomes very still. Her eyes widen slightly, so subtly that most people would miss it. Intimidating-looking physics(?) equations swarm around her head. Her expression is severe but inscrutable. If this realization is stirring up any kind of feeling in her, it would probably be described as “bad” and “mortifying,” or maybe "embarrassing."
Frey doesn’t seem to notice, mercifully. The Oracle quickly recovers. She clasps her hands together and says “Ah,” in a thin voice.]