Clint was about to answer, if she thought his pronunciation was bad, she should try teach Phil a few lessons in her mother tongue. Then he remembered Phil was dead and shut his mouth, a painful shiver running all the way down his arms, and he could just hope she wasn't looking there right now. He didn't want to ruin the playful mood with his tiresome issues.

"Didn't really need to speak it much lately", he said instead, pretending a harmless shrug. "But hey, we can always mix pleasure with use and ask for an assignment in Russia. Like, some observation detail in a snowy village with no communication."

That sounded better than his discipline should allow it, Clint found, with a quiet sigh. No communication, no report, no therapy, no evaluations. He would probably never leave this magical place again.