He laughs at that, softer and less boisterous than his more public laugh, though it's still boyish and open. He's opted to more lean against the table than sit properly, at least at the moment, mug of chocolate in his hands. He's not got the political airs of his countrymen, but at times like these, she can see that there is something of an act he puts on, not so much hiding who he is so much as showing a slightly different facet of it in public than in private. He seems softer here, younger, for all that it seems such a thing might might him seem older-- to be more calm and serious. Instead, the soldier's edges fall away and he's just a young elezen and not a leader of men.

"Truthfully, I am not sure how much help I will be. My lessons were learned early, earlier than make it practical to teach. But I would be a poor friend if I didn't at least try. If naught else, I can offer a spot of commiseration, not all are so lucky as to lead lives worthy of rumors," the tone makes it unclear if he is being serious or wry. He takes a sip of his chocolate and considers her for a moment,

"It occurs to me that, not being from anywhere near Ishgard, and her keeping to herself for years before, that you might not recognize the name 'Greystone'. It's fairly common within Foundation, if nothing else, but I'm not sure how well it fares in other lands. Certainly, I'm not the first and I'll not be the last," there's definitely something wry about that, a bit of dark humor.