Tyrion clears his throat hastily. "Ah, no, just wondering if they meant 'mottled' instead of 'motted', I'm not familiar with that term. You know, this may take some time. Which I'm not opposed to in the slightest, I have plenty of that for now. Might I ask your name?"

He hadn't gotten a name out of that mystery conversant, but there's something entertaining and appealing about trying to read through tomes of dragon lore with this sullen individual. It's not that no one cares for dragons at home, but no one cared to read or talk with him about them. It was primarily a solitary interest that others looked at with tolerant amusement. (The word 'geeky' hasn't entered Tyrion's lexicon yet.)