He could feel it. He knew he was right. Reading the atmosphere was his only strength after all. He could see it in her eyes, downcast from withheld emotion. He could see it in her face, with the internal struggle firmly engraved in her porcelain skin. He even noticed her slender figure shivering slightly, like an abandoned kitten in the cold rain.
Of course her loud, uncontrollable stuttering, which made her sound like a broken record stuck on the first syllable of whatever word she was trying to say also helped cement his suspicion:
Komi was really bad at communicating.