[Estinien meanwhile seems not nearly as excited as Aymeric, though his own eyes do not wander to the pitched front of Aymeric's pants. He's hardly curious of what his vulgarity has done to his friend, and wants even less for any reality to make itself known. Silently he approaches, taking the offered seat, and placing his own book and quill—a black crow's feather, a little rough and not finely kept—onto the bar before him.]

Aye.

'Tis a mockery what this cursed tome and quill wrote. Had I not played witness to the atrocity from mine own hand, I would nary believe it happened. Disregard all of what I had said, such brash perversion is scarce mine intent.

But what of you? I find it beggars belief that you would flavor your speech with such lecherous phrasing.