"Some of it is Greek." He countered, eyes glancing back at her, almost appraisingly. If he weren't a man of logic, he could almost think she was reading his mind, but she wasn't. Mind reading wasn't real, and if it were somehow inside the realm of possibilities, he doubted that she'd be able to read his.

Hope and cheerfulness in the face of the bizarre wrapped up in licorice shoelaces didn't mix well with cynicism and a black expanse of cold hard facts.

As he turned, he bent to pick up a few stray pieces of paper. "And Latin, and Sanskrit." The more he spoke and the more he collected the stray papers, the closer he moved toward his hope and sunshine filled target. "How you've managed, this long might be a minor miracle." He kept collecting papers into a pile in his hand. Carefully and meticulously until he reached for the one, she was currently holding. "If I believed in miracles, that is." And there was the smirk, full on and up close. He might be toying with her. He was toying with her, but it was fun. It'd become a habit to do so, like smoking or hard liquor; and he was fairly certain she knew it. "We should go out."