Ah, trust he'd pick someone reserved. Myr smiles ruefully to himself, leaning back further where he's seated; it's growing harder to keep his spine straight. Easier to given in to the urge to slump, but if he's going to do that he's not going to crumple in on himself, Maker damn it. He's still got some sense of propriety.

"I'm Myr, Soren, and I'll count myself lucky in that case to have made your acquaintance." And he's still got his manners. "'Interesting' is better than 'excellent,' besides; I imagine you know at least a half-dozen things I've never heard of. How's the night here on Talam compare to what you're used to on your side of the mirror?"