"How do you know my name?" Though stunned, Rorschach still had to ask. It wouldn't be fun if the being in front of him could read minds.
After all, for a Mage proficient in the Prophetic System, the only difficulty in reading minds was doing so without the other party noticing.
"I am not reading your mind," the Wise Man's Illusion said immediately.
'You don't even blush when you lie!' Rorschach was angry, but he wasn't sure of the being's strength. Having suffered one setback after another, he decided it was better to keep a low profile in this strange, new place.
"I am just an illusion now. See? Milky-white, frosted, and semi-transparent. Of course I can't blush." The Wise Man coughed. "However, I wasn't lying. I can only read the surface activity of your cerebral cortex. When the Soul signals in your language center fluctuate, I can 'translate' them, word by word, into speech."
'So, he was just reading my brainwaves. How could that possibly be called mind-reading?'
