Brin sits, cross-legged on the bed, listening intently to the recording coming from the panel behind his head. Silently, he mouths the words, some of which are familiar, some completely infamiliar to him. Overheard conversations in the Jasper come back to him, and well-known words and phrases string themselves together, and suddenly become clear, only to be forgotten, and remembered again by example, next time the voice came from behind him.

...Not that what people were saying in this strange language bothered him. It's probably just best that he...well, perhaps he was a bit curious. The voice continues, and phrases string themselves together again. He grins lightly, as the voice repeats the phrase so he can understand it, an an almost comically thick solarian accent, the recording spits out the phrase. "Good Morning."

Brin smiles widely, as Reoite does his usual trick of jumping onto the bed, and crouching like a spring, ready to pounce, of Brin would first donate two pins. It no longer surprises him. Reoite turns up his nose, and Brin could have sworn Reoite huffed. Brin reaches out to tickle Reoite under the chin.

"Good Morning, Reoite." he says, his accent rendering his solarian almost unintelligible. Brin only smiles, as Reoite stares blankly.