The conversation about... a corrupt wizard? Is still going completely over his head, though he does manage the shadow of a smile for the gentle bickering and the feeling of... of family, he thinks. This must be what family is like. It's one good thing in his life to cling to.

He's a little nonplused when they both join him on the floor, but he settles back on his heels, grateful at least for the thick, black rug over the stone floor.

"Yes," he sighs. "Dixingren is sufficient. I think it had another name when we were children, but by the time I awakened it was long forgotten, both the language and its name." He's often wondered just how his people became native speakers of Mandarin, when they were cut off from the world above for so many millennia, but it was one of many things he'd never found the time to look into before he'd run out of time entirely.