“I had no idea you could do that,” he says. “Oh, yeah,” I say, starting back toward the front doors. They whoosh open and we enter the cool, musty quiet. “I’ve been reading since I was six. I’m getting pretty good.” “I mean the voices,” he clarifies. “You were such a convincing elderly magician mouse.” “If that impressed you, you should see me do the old woman who lives in a shoe,” I say.”