Now the Mycologist grins. He has very nice teeth. Very white. Talk about not fumbling a situation. He says: "I am not opposed to that idea at all. I would be delighted to get to know thee better." He wets his lips, slowly. "This might be a good moment to note that I am married, though my better half is aware and does not object. He is in London most of the time, it is a suitable arrangement. But there have been people not comfortable with the very idea; I thought it might be prudent to let thee know in case thou art one of them."
It is a well rehearsed line. The Mycologist would give it in writing if asked.

"Please, do assume the worst in me. It is rather refreshing, my dear esteemed colleague," he shoots back a smile. "Although I am not a philosopher. I am many things, but certainly not a philosopher. Hadst thou lay the Ultimate Indisputable Truth in front of me, I'd vivisect it. My knowledge of truth and its perception extends to the practical knowledge of disproving solipsism."

The Mycologist puts the container of coffee back. Not because he is done with it; he's merely ran out of content. He concludes: "Withing the bounds of language, the Correspondence is not special. In that regard it behaves like any other language. Of course," he waves his hand, "about no other language would we naturally think that it exhibits any kind of behavior."