He doesn't seem at all put off by Alecto's mannerisms, standing up to his feet as Alecto walks past and following him out the door. He is quiet for a moment, until they're heading for the stairwell leading up to the faculty offices above the classroom level.

"I wouldn't say it was boredom," he replies, his tone even, steady, measured, as though he had given the off-hand question a great deal of thought. He reaches into the folder he is carrying, pulls out an extremely high resolution image of several painstakingly pieced together fragments of old artifacts, scattered faintly with worn out letters, and holds it out for Alecto to see. "I wanted to talk to you about these."

They were fragments of what was likely poetry, source currently unknown, recently unearthed to much interest and excitement in the classical space. The originals were sealed in a vacuum chamber somewhere in Athens, but technology was really amazing these days.