audio;

[cockade]

How many of you have your own language from home?

[There is a very distinct pause as Arno realizes that question may need to be clarified.]

By language, I mean something that is unique to your country or culture. For example, I'm from France and our language is French- but if you go to our neighboring country Spain, they speak Spanish instead. Italy has Italian. Britain has English.

Hilariously enough, if you gathered a Frenchman and a Spaniard together, they would be able to hold a somewhat decent conversation in their own languages because they're similar. [There's a bit of a pause as he says "somewhat," because he's pretty sure he wouldn't completely understand Spanish unless given some time to really digest it.] I'm not exactly sure they'd understand everything, but the basics would be covered rather well.

I suppose I'm asking mostly because there's so many of us, and so there's bound to be similarities and differences. Even across worlds. It would be interesting to talk about it, and possibly teach others if they're wanting to learn as well.

[Because almost anything is better than thinking about their current situation or about the Savrii, in his opinion.]

Comments

[cockade]

[He laughs, but listens still to what she says. Talking about the Drabwurld isn't difficult- but it's become almost like a second home, and he misses it and the friends he made there, if only because he had a sense of belonging he has yet to truly secure with the crew of the Moira.]

You flatter me, Angela. I've done what I could, considering the circumstances. Back home at least prepared me to work with what I had. [He pauses, but when he starts up again, his tone is noticeably cheerier than before.]

There was- a friend of mine. Her name is Élise. She and I were there in the Drabwurld for two years, and caught up in the war together. [Is that the sound of him clearing his throat quietly to make sure he doesn't sound a little too willing to talk about her? Of course not, you're imagining things.] Unfortunately, I don't know if she's still back in the Drabwurld, or if she's back home in Paris. I haven't exactly had a way to reach her.

[cadeuces]

[ Angela's had little enough reason to believe Arno was a fighter, but she still gets the impression in bits and pieces— the way he moved, the way he watched others, perhaps. It was very analytical and careful, and he always had a grasp on what his body was doing. His spatial awareness was sharp. His statement only goes to prove that. ]

Not at all. I'm easy-going, I'll give anyone that, but I don't hand out opinions so easily. They're serious business, you know. For a physician.

[ A wink, for that, but mostly because he mentions— a "friend". Right. ]

And this friend. [ She imagined nothing. ] She must be quite beautiful. And feisty, to keep up with you.

I can see how that'd be worrisome though; I've found myself wondering much the same. I hope she's well. Your 'friend'.