Mycroft's expression warms slightly in return, satisfied to have taken a step in the right direction. He's still not sure why he finds himself feeling more invested in Ilde's mood than he does in those of most strangers (read: not at all). From where he's sitting, any physical familiarity she may have to someone Mycroft knows or knew can no longer be seen, and he can't place who he'd been about to connect her to earlier. Also odd, since things rarely slip his mind. It has truly been a long three days.

Her demeanor remains eerily familiar, though, and it's both unnerving and calming. Furthermore, the more he looks at her, the more he wants to look harder—her colors are so rich, her textures seem to leap out at him. Even the movement of her hair draws his eyes as though it means something. All the while Mycroft's been sitting here with her, he's grown tense continually reminding himself not to stare.

He endeavors to put that all aside for the moment.

“It's a very useful language for anyone to know, I think,” he signs, keeping his motions clear and slowing them down a bit (but not enough to make things patronizing). “I thought it might be easier this way if you could focus more on reading the German on the page while you watch the signs for the English in your peripheral vision, but if you are still learning ASL, this probably won't be ideal.”