"Sixteen," he echoed softly. Somehow it fit what he knew of her - her obvious independent streak, the sense he got that she went after what she wanted.

If Eleanor wanted to leave, he couldn't imagine trying to stop her. But time alone... No, he didn't want that.

Maybe not ever again.

He took another sip of wine. "What parts of the world have you been to? I can't remember ever seeing anywhere but Rapture." But he had known somehow, even there - as bits of himself began to awaken - that the world was so much larger than Rapture could ever be. No matter what Andrew Ryan wanted his people to believe.