[ Matt can't help but find Abel's tone a little bit ... teasing? It belatedly occurs to him that he shouldn't have presumed no one on this planet can speak French.

Still: ]

I've memorized a lot of poems, [ he answers gamely. ] But I do like Baudelaire. He writes about cities the way they really are. You know ... chaotic, and full of people having all kinds of totally ignoble problems, and dirty. Beautiful, but some of the beauty comes from a bottle somebody shattered last night and the pieces are sparkling in the street.

Do you want a prayer instead, Father?