[ her voice, the distinction in it, the music of forgetting pronunciation of letters or syllables. or, rather (better yet) having not learned them at all, the use of them. he can't decide if he hates it or if he loves it. archanohill isn't a place he wants again, but things had been much better, before luca went. ... but, he's here, now. luca, claude, himself. ciel, now, too. which is a hundred times better. he may detest jim macken a little too much to be completely fond with it.
even so, it's nostalgic. being taught etiquette and to speak proper was the dullest thing. he loves swears, crudity, slouching at tables, or setting his heels against the edge. ]
Maybe they'll come close behind, [ he says, after a sprinkle of minutes, with a voice dreamier-aired than he intends. ] Luca came. They'll come, too.