"I'm sorry!" Edward said, in a soft and supremely apologetic voice, folding his scissors together in a similar fashion to a child whose usefulness was in suspension, feeling bad about not being able to help Tonks. He frowned, wondering if Tonks was like him. Not finished, in need of someone to complete her and help her reach others. She seemed finished to him; his eyes flickered toward her hands, which were flesh and soft with rosy fingernails. "Boring?"
Edward watched, puzzled, as Tonks picked up the two journals. He listened to the Latin phrases, certain that he'd heard them in lessons at some point, but unable to retrieve the information he had never had reason to retain. Shaking his head, he bit his lip, eyes flickering to the ground. Edward was happiest when he was useful, and it seemed like he was unable to do much of anything to help in this situation.