He sees it, of course. He sees the way she hurries towards her drink. It tells him more than she's saying, paints pictures he doubts she intends. He passes no comment on any of it, though, simply stores it away for later.

"Oh, long as I can remember," he says, and it's perhaps more true than even she could realise. Truly, as long as he can remember. It might not be as long as most.

"But enough about me. What about you, eh? Tell me about you, Madame Curator."