Ilde brightens, sliding down into the seat beside him (she tucks her feet together, ankles crossed, behind one leg of it) and setting the book down in front of them both - dark green, leatherbound, with an embossed title that references a study of human and fae interaction in central Europe.

"I only really need you to help me with the introduction, so I can get an idea of the content," she disclaims, to start off-- "I've been trying to translate on my own mostly so I get better at it," because she's exactly enough of a nerd to think that sounds like as important and good a use of her time as actually getting the information that she needs, "but I don't want to waste it on a book I'm not going to have any use for when I'm done."

It seems eminently sensible to her when she says it out loud (which is comforting; things don't always, and it's frustrating), and she feels obliged to assure him that she has no intention of monopolizing his entire library experience with painstakingly going through this entire text for her.