"That is indeed my place of being in times former, Sister," He says, swallowing. He doesn't know what to do. He can't let himself feel anything other than confused and... maybe a little alarmed.

He rattles on, "I pray mother fuckin pardon, a sister didst seem to be of likeness mirrored in countenance and way of righteous word. Assumption poured as harsh brew, my dear friend she was like to be, but it appears naught but hollow writ of promise. Let it be said on this day, no trespass was intended on thy person."

He's vaguely hopeful she might stop him to tell him he is incorrect. He is also hopeful that she does not.