"You said you weren't picky."

"I'm not, this is addressing my stupid compulsion fine, but the way in which it's doing that is that I'm trying to find out why we would need nicknames."

"I suppose you have said you're not at your best regarding names and word puzzles."

"I think I could nickname us if I knew why I was doing it but I don't seem to have a process for coming up with nicknames without a use case."

"When we get to the room, I'd like to take a look around before you two enter.  Given that you're feeling... talkativeish."

"Is that a technical term? Yeah, sure, make sure it's not bugged or whatever."

She sighs.  "...How distressing would you find it to be gagged?"

"Pretty fucking distressing! I'd propose that I could make out with Julien if you need me to quit talking but I think probably we are not on those terms! Do you want me to recite a sonnet or something, will that give you long enough?"

"Bwuh."

"I mean - I mean," he contemplates.  "I know you better than you know me..."

"There are several levels on which it isn't actually a good idea I'm just talking," says Haru miserably.

The elevator opens.  "A sonnet, please."

Julien goes for as much contact and even pressure as he can.

"When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defac’d
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-raz’d,
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay;
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate
That Time will come and take my love away.
This thought is as a death which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose."

- Julien whimpers.

Svetka is still waving a beeping thing around the room.  "Another?"

"I don't have very many of them memorized so budget for like, I can do two more of those.

"They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces,
And husband nature’s riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds."

She's done two-thirds of the way through and beckons them in.

"Wow," says Julien once the door's closed behind them.

"Can I take this stupid thing off my face now."

"Yes."  She removes hers and collects the other two.

Thing off face. Shirt off also. Clinging to Julien. "It was worth extra credit in English class," he mumbles into Julien's shoulder.

"That's rad.  ...You should maybe wash off your feet which were bare in a public bathroom and also outside and stuff.  Now that we're in a convenient place for this."

"Yeah okay." Julien is obviously coming along for this operation right.

Yes yes yes.  Bathroom, close door.

"- Okay, I was going to say, 'Just tell me exactly how much guiding you're good for and then we'll do that,' and, now I guess I will also still say that."