"We're all students," she pointed out, leaning forward to rest her elbows against her knees. It was a markedly young position, something that only someone with all the flexibility of youth would enjoy. Ten years from then, she wouldn't be nearly so comfortable all folded up and settled in. Nor would she have such a thing for Pomegranate Passion smoothies, maybe. But all was well right then, and that was all that mattered to Zanna. "Learning is the only way to live. If you stop learning, you start dying."
This sounded for all the world like a lesson she'd been taught, a well-loved and oft-recited turn of phrase that she picked up from her father, perhaps, or her mother, or some highly-respected teacher. But it was also simplistically genuine.
"Teaching is different. Not everyone's cut out for teaching." Another pause, as though she were trying to dissect his movements with her eyes, as if she could discern the flow of energy. "Are you a teacher?" She asked again, patient and polite. "Would you teach me - that?"