No — garbage, plasticky garbage. I've gotten my hands on real paper now; I won't go back.

[He's Passionate about this. Their paper substitute sucks and is terrible, real paper is king, maybe he does prefer Trench to the Sixth for this one single reason (and of course, all the sentiment).

He waves away stereotypical Sixth protectiveness; as the Warden he gets to look at whatever he wants, so it's not wrong, but he has to sign forms to get his eyeballs on things. Now-]

It's true that most of our visitors get shuffled off to look at the view screens and then politely sent home. The other Houses can assume whatever they want to about us, that we're bizarre recluses, anything — it's no one's fault in the Sixth that the other Houses would cause disastrous amounts of mess if they tried to apply our half-finished work.

[They're not smart enough? There are about two people in the galaxy Palamedes trusts to maybe be alright with Sixth work, which is generous of him. He takes an extended sip of Blue Drink and wrinkles his nose at it, then,]

You'd only have to wave my name around and they'd have to show you, you know. I'd sign all the appropriate requisitions.