"Let's see now," Josephine cooed, taking the journal into her lap and resting it atop curled legs. She read through the entry once, then twice, and then leaned back again, fingers resting, almost affectionately, on the page. She liked having Robbie's journal in her hands. It gave her a strange, wayward sense of closeness that she couldn't really understand except by handling this artefact of his life, this personal effect. Resisting the urge to page through it, though she wouldn't have been able to read his wards, even with it in her hands, was difficult, and she handed it back to him with internal reluctance, and a smile.
"She shows promise indeed. Perhaps you could have her make an appointment with me? I'd very much like to speak to her."