Cain has no idea what a Tolkien is, but he gets the gist. He finally has the presence of mind to step away from the sticky puddle - his wet ankles are a loss, he's afraid - but it's a step backwards. He shuffles a little, just as much an attempt to get his heels unstuck from the ground as it is to disguise the obviousness of the movement, and he rests a hand on the table.

"How many on your planet are homo sapiens?" he asks. He's trying to keep making conversation and pretend very little is wrong. But there's a stiffness to his stance, and he keeps fighting the urge to glance away. "Nobilis - that's quite the lofty word."

He's back to speaking a little formally now. It almost sounds the same as high gothic, imagine that.