Cid smoothed down his somewhat wild hair as he entered her room. He pulled out the spare chair, spun it around and sat backwards in it. He crossed his arms over the back and leaned forward. "We should." Cid did not envy Evita's language difficulties. He had struggled with the language too, but not to the extent that Evita does. His language instructor had said that it likely came out of the fact that English was his third language, and not his second. Supposedly, it was easier to learn a third one than it was a second. Cid did not think that made sense, but did not really have any knowledge on the subject.
Basque was his second language, if only because the older generations used it. His abuelos and abuelas had refused to speak anything else to their grandchildren. Eventually, they just picked it up, as it was rather hard to ignore the old busybodies. "Have you been doing any better outside of classes?" He asked.