"You think I carefully compose everything I say?" he asked of her, giving her a faux-pout as if he might actually be insulted by the accusation, but he couldn't keep the look up for more than a couple of seconds before he was smiling with her again.
"My Spanish is poor as hell, but I guess people like it when you try at least," he told her, unaware that he would end up almost bilingual in his later life. It was at an early stage, enough to place orders in bars and restaurants and ask a few questions about the war for his articles.
"Was it really? I don't even know if you're bullshitting me anymore," he told her. "Christ, I'll end it to the seemingly endless list of things I need to learn about," he told her, with a little bit of an eye-roll.