[Silence is golden, or the inevitable result when a fifteen year-old social recluse (by design, not choice) realises he might have a whole network of people listening to him
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Why are you talking Latin, dude? Kind of a dead language, you know? [Andrew couldn't understand what the Latin meant, as he only knows Latin from spellwork, but he knows what the language sounds like.]
...wait, huh? Why? I mean, like, what's it for? I mean other than naming stuff. I mean, like, why? Are you doing it? And who's "we?" 'Cause I don't know Latin all that well, dude. I can do Italian, though! But I'm guessing you don't mean me with the "we," 'cause we totally just met, and met isn't even a very good word for it, 'cause, like, we're just talking over walky talkies. You know?
[Have a Daddy!Infernal that is just... staring at you, Andrew. He's not going to say anything, of course, that would be downright intrusive, but you are definitely getting put on the mental list of 'people to label Non-Infernal, should Eliot ask.']
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[Fiona better than he does, but that's outside the here and now - and gives her too much credit besides.]
It's how binomial nomenclature works anyways.
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