"I am, I'm super offended," she answers, smiling, her eyes still closed. She has no idea what he's said and she thinks she could ask him or look it up tomorrow, but she won't. Whatever he's said, it's not insulting and she has no idea how she knows that, because she doesn't speak a word of German, but she knows all the same. And she could look it up, but she sort of doesn't want to, not because she doesn't actually want to know, but because not knowing seems weirdly romantic.

"What if I was secretly fluent?" she asks, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. She opens her eyes briefly to look at him, then closes them again. She's warm and comfortable and he's calm and maybe he isn't tired, but at least he's not freaking out or pacing or having a panic attack. She pretty much considers that to be a victory.

"What if my mom was German? Or my dad? I guess Gregson's not a very German name, is it?"