"Fellow-students, then, each of us perfecting our art," Laertes offers. He takes a bite of the roast and finds it flavorful, juicy and infused with the richness of wine, and for a moment his relief is so enormous that it nearly swallows him. It would be the worst thing, to be found wanting when he had tried so sincerely to do well. "I do like thee. There's a great love of knowledge in thee that wells over like water in a fountain, and nourishes all that it falls upon." He smiles, swift and flickering, a fishscale smile. "And thou art a swordsman par excellence with words. There's pleasure to be had in finding the gaps in thy guard."