I looked at the snake. "No," I agreed. "He looks like they roped him somewhere in West Virginia a few months ago, put shoes on him, and brought him to town."
"Right," Fred snapped. "Let the mob get a look at him. The contrast of you dragging him along by the ear and him stumbling along behind you is the sort of thing the public laps up. It'll put you right in the driver's seat."
"I thought Congress had already done that," I reminded him coldly. No bureaucrat could want powers more absolute than mine. "Unfortunately," I growled at him. "I gave orders that no snakes were to be brought into this building without my prior consent. This ineffective-looking hill-billy has possibly read a thousand minds since you dragged him in here. How much of what he has picked up around here this morning will be peeped by some Russian telepath before you get him out of town?"
"Relax," Fred scoffed. "He's a short-range punk."
That was too much. "I'll do my own thinking, Fred," I said. "From now on, you follow orders."
I turned on the telepath. "Before I sentence you," I said. "What have you got to say?"
"I never hurt nothin'," he grumbled.
They're all alike, so help me. "You are a telepath?" I asked him.
"Shoah."