"Ah! -- 'What sweet sustenance we have in our thirst, for the smooth wisp of truth found in a rose'!" said Brook, as he quoted one of Besten's most renown poets. Lloyd glanced away from the window and smile at Brook. Their rapport showed in their eyes and they didn't need to speak. Brook looked at Dearborne and saw that she didn't react to his poetry recital. Instead, she began to develop mannerisms of someone who is disgusted. He thought that she just didn't approve of his jest. Lloyd noticed a strangeness in her, too, but he thought that it wasn't his place to say anything. "At least you don't quote that Djenaud Smarte, my Lord. You have taste!" Lloyd made ready to make some fun, if the Lord cared to jest, himself -- and he did. "Yes. Moreye was a great poet. I remember that he once jested about Smarte. He said, 'Smarte could only write if intoxicated by the aroma of a peasant's chicken-house, and that's why he lived in one'!" Brook was amused as was Lloyd. He sat up better as not to spill his drink while he laughed. He soon added to Brook's jest by conveying to him a game that he learned in Besten, while he was still young. "We once played games in Besten. Some Elders told us that these games were very old but our own familiarities could be used to make them humorous, to us. My father, Harvard, taught me this one and I found it funny. The game goes like this. Someone appears at your door and knocks. The one inside asks, 'who is there?', the outsider answers with something and the insider asks again, the outsider's name and 'who?' Then one outside answers in a humorous manner." To Brook, the explanation of the game, was funny enough for him, because Lloyd began to take on a nature of a lad, Boy's age. Finally, after Lloyd explained to Brook the game, he demonstrated it to him. He told Brook what to say as the insider and the joke commenced. Lloyd rapped on the wood of the chair's arm-rest, that represented the door. He then pointed to Brook. "Who is there?" asked Brook. "Djenaud Smarte!" Lloyd replied. "Djenaud Smarte, who?" asked Brook again, after being cued, once more. "Djenaud as smart as I am!" said Lloyd and he laughed. They found this cute little game somewhat interesting and continued to play it for a while until they ran out of names that could be made fun. Brook soon became restless, when he saw that Dearborne wasn't reacting to their humour, without even the slightest grin. Lloyd resumed his stare out the window. His spirited smile vanished from his face as quickly as the wine vanished from his glass, that he still held in his hand. Out on the streets were groups of children walking together. Some chewed on the intoxicating seeds of the Orumen flower. Lloyd shook his head in disenchantment just as Brook also looked out the window and saw the same.