Ernest practically groaned and rolled his eyes when she talked about philosophy class. It actually sounded like his idea of hell, even if he was one of the privileged white men. He at least went out and talked to people, heard their stories, their struggles. He took an interest in people from all over the world, and tried his best not to be patronising. He wasn't a missionary. He wasn't there to save anyone from their own culture. But he knew that people would listen to him when he repeated the story in the Nationals. If his editor let it go out as it was.
"I never did go to college, but I learned all about the kind of people and conversation I despise while in Paris. Ill-informed but unwilling to budge an inch. If I found it all very patronising, I can scarcely imagine how much harder they'd be on a woman. You've got to be twice as intelligent to be taken half as seriously, you know?" He remembered how they had spoken to Hadley, the silly little woman he should teach to keep her thoughts to herself. Or better yet, stop bringing her to dinner and let her stay home with the baby.
He chuckled softly, even enjoying that she was using little terms of endearment so naturally. "Hey, at least you weren't born here. Although maybe it would make it easier? I'm not sure," he mused, thinking of Katherine, and then Charlie. He didn't think Charlie had it much easier, in fact. "Then again, living among the same few people all your damn life? Small town mentality, everyone up in your business all the time..." It definitely had a lot of negatives to it as well.
Apparently she wasn't going to let him away with downplaying the punch, and didn't that just do wonderful things to his ego - but then, she probably knew that much. "Alright, yeah, I was pretty damn pleased with myself in all honesty," he admitted. "Hate guys like that, it's all bravado and bullshit, peacocking around like a damn fool."
He'd almost forgotten how much she liked Harry Potter; making sure that she was there to hear him read it to Charlie, it became a bit of their family time, enjoying the story together. On nights when she had been particularly tired, she'd fallen asleep listening to him retelling her the tale. "Oh, brilliant, absolutely. You've reminded me that I really should try to pick up the rest of the series now that I'm... back... to the future..." he said, pulling a bit of a face as he realised how corny it sounded, but there wasn't a much better way to explain it.
Was she doing it deliberately? Surely not. Surely she was just eating cake, and his mind was warped and filthy, but Christ he couldn't stop watching her. She had to think he was so incredibly easy to wind up. Which was the truth, but he was giving himself away rather early on.
"I know you wouldn't, you don't seem completely insane." She had only just met him, and she had the inside knowledge of what he was like as a husband. He knew that even his Abi would never agree to be his wife, and he had just about gotten over that idea, even if it itched at the back of his brain on rare occasions. She always had managed to soothe and reassure those worries, though.
Was he technically married? He sipped at his coffee, and considered the question properly before giving her an answer. "It's hard to say. When I first arrived on the Island, it was Mrs-Working-Honeymoon in China," he started to explain. "Gellhorn," he clarified, realising that even this version of Abi would know the names. "A lot of distance and self-reflection and... I moved on. When I went home, I told her to go to hell, but I guess the universe had gotten the dates slightly off, and I found myself back with Pauline, who I had already divorced. I didn't technically get a second divorce from her, but not through a lack of asking and trying," he gave her a bit of a guilty look, knowing that he had told her he wasn't married when maybe it wasn't the whole truth. But the whole truth had been messy to spill when they'd just met. It was weird and messy even now. "Oh, and in Cuba now, there's someone else entirely, based on photographs... but I don't know who that is, so I can't very well claim to be married to them. A version of me is, apparently. I hope you get why I didn't say all of that when you first asked."