Omnes adsint, quamvis dementi, quamvis nefasti.

Deciding to ignore the derision of his penmanship and instead focus on the latter half of the return in conversation, the Morbid Socialite gave a small nod, without the room for a more courteous bow. They gave their name- something dark and perhaps foreign, perhaps self-chosen- and held out a hand, hesitantly believing for a moment that giving a name might not be the risk he once believed. "A pleasure to meet you. As for why I'm studying the Correspondence, it's rather a matter of... curiosity." It was a blatant lie, to be sure, but there was very little to tell the truth from. "And what of yourself?"