Arcturus was visibly relieved when Richard seemed to accept his explanation of his father's expectations. It was difficult enough for him that the muggles here were intent on an informality that seemed more akin to rudeness, and that there was no reasoning with them. Richard understood Arcturus' reliance on the etiquette of his own time, it seemed, even if he might not approve of it. The young wizard smiled gratefully at the offer of assistance. He didn't believe that he needed any – not at present, anyway – but he knew the value of having someone to turn to in such an unfamiliar situation as they now found themselves.
As Richard began to write notes over his Arithmancy work, Arcturus took a long sip from his cup of tea. He was glad that tea had been on offer, as more than once in Preya he'd had to choke down coffee for the sake of politeness. If you asked Arcturus, it tasted dreadful and he couldn't see why anyone would prefer it. Listening to Richard's comments, his attention was drawn to that peculiar-looking pen. It had to be muggle. Not that Arcturus would fault him for it; there were so many ordinary things that were difficult to obtain here if you didn't know exactly where to look. Without drawing undue attention to the fact, he retrieved a small bottle of ink from one of his outer pockets, along with two quill pens, one of which he placed a little closer to Richard, a small but kindly-meant gift.
Soon enough, he had his own corrected equations back, along with Richard's version. The latter was difficult for him to follow, but it appeared to integrate all Arcturus' separate spells into one long enchantment, something which he would never have thought possible, let alone tried out himself. As for his own work, there were so many errors that he was surprised Richard had deemed it not bad, instead of scolding him for it. His old tutors would have, and he'd have been in trouble at school – which was precisely why it was more sensible not to attempt such things at all. He held up Richard's journal, and asked, 'May I borrow this, please? I should like to copy down that equation of yours, when I have the time.' Even if Arcturus didn't have the knowledge to properly comprehend it, someone else at home undoubtedly would.
Then he tried to imagine what it would be like to fly at the sort of speeds Richard's racing brooms could. He grinned. 'If you have a broom failure in Quidditch,' he corrected lightly, 'likely as not you'll have to patch yourself up as well as your broom, and nobody wants to ride those awful spares.' Even Arcturus, wealthy as he was, had only one broom of his own to take to school. 'But I haven't seen a broom catch fire, not if one doesn't count appalling attempts at fouls. That does sound like a problem unique to racing at extreme speeds.' He gestured towards the journal again. 'But if I might ask – if it is done with a single enchantment, doesn't that make routine upkeep more difficult, as well as discovering precisely which part has gone wrong if your problem isn't obvious?' A failure of the braking charm was unmistakable, but smaller issues often required methodical testing of each spell before they could be resolved.