Nice guy.

I cannot tell if you're serious.

What? I like him. He's going to attack the entire problem of death because he heard some people he's never met before are dying. That's awesome.

I think he's an extraordinary person. But he didn't ask your name or little niceties like that so lots of people do not in fact find him very nice.

You told him my name.

Yes, he asked me for a three-sentence version of everything more interesting about you than the language - which he finds very interesting, he'd probably have kept you up all night if it hadn't turned out you come from a planet of dying people - which is a very efficient way to get to the heart of matters. But 'nice' doesn't always leap to mind.

Well, I like him.

Maitimo beams at him.

"While you two were talking I finished the prettier copy," he says. "Here you go."

"When you begin your musical career you can do a side business in calligraphy."

"I suppose I have a couple of centuries on everyone on your world so even things I don't do remarkably well look very practiced. And I really have to take you to hear Cáno sing."

"I may swoon."

"Most people do. I think he derives tremendous satisfaction from it."

Hee hee.

"I stay up all night because I am a Feanorian and we are pathologically restless. Why are you up?"

"From a different time zone, and it's hard to adjust when it's bright all the time. The sun's only up half the time and I usually sleep when it's dark."

"Oh! if you'd like I can find you a room that is underground and therefore dark! Some people who were used to the Outer Lands prefer that."

"That would probably help. When am I supposed to be sleeping?"

"People who sleep every day often sleep when Laurelin is at her peak, because that's when it's brightest and hottest and least pleasant to be outside."

"Makes sense! I am in fact accustomed to sleeping every day. I could probably sleep now if I tried, should I try?"

"I have no opinion. If you are not tired we could instead go teach you to ride a horse."

"I'm not really tired."

"Let's go ride a horse!" He stands, gracefully, and pushes back his chair and closes the door to his office which retracts into the frame so it usually looks like it doesn't have one.

"Why is your door hidden like that?" Kib asks, following.