I think he is too fond of those he knows of your house to be particularly critical. [that much is very true. he does need to take a moment over 'grave duty,' regardless, though curiosity- well, as he said, he's not as kind as ortus. the urge to ask and beg forgiveness usually came before leaving well enough alone.]

What is in this tomb you guard? I admit it sounds rather like a religious duty of a sort. I eh, I apologies if it is disrespectful to ask.

[he'll be more sorry when he realizes about the truth juice!

but he does not yet, so he simply sits with those solemn words, considering them and the weight behind them. the snap of a cherry bomb has him wait a moment, answering in the silence that follows,] I suppose it may be florid but I have grown to believe the heart of progress is in collaboration. It does not shock me to imagine the kind of miracles that come when two people devote themselves to the same path, and in turn each other.

[ah, a flicker of emotion about jayce he puts in his box.] The subject of your poem, is he who you mean about witnessing miracles?