[Reaction]
[It was the language in his mind that captured Sabi. He was snared. He knew this was not the right time in history, but the language was nearly correct, and it was long years since he had heard it spoken. He paid attention now, as he did then, to the names and faces. These things, they were important to learn. Not in order to be friendly or befriended, but because names were things of power. Names have always been things of power. The Frenchman taught him this. Not this man that he is being now, for this man is different. His thoughts were not the same as the ones Sabi remembered exploring with naked abandon upon rugs much like the one now under his feet.
But it was familiar, and even the feeling of carefree confidence was something he remembered in the other. He was Sabi then, in the early days, and then Laurent, and now he opened his eyes and smiled the briefest of smiles. The happiness, pure and single note, was not something he had felt in many years.
In his own tongue, long forgotten, he thanked the bearer of this memory. For one such as himself, it was a grand gesture.]