"Not so much often as born into it. One's enough," she says, pulling up a chair uninvited to look at some of the pages set aside or discarded- whatever won't get in the way of what he's already doing.

She nods in something resembling agreement, or at least not arguing against his point, maybe because at least some of the shapes look like things she's seen. Some symbols must transcend realities like that.

"So you know this shit. Like really know it?" She tries not to let the tiny thread of hope in her voice come through too much.