When did your heart
stop Professor?
Professor is merely a
courtesy title.
You have not answered
question.
Is it really a
question, or an accusation by implication?
How so?
If my heart had
stopped, I would be unable to satisfy it. Take that literally and
metaphorically.
Both?
One only answers a
question, by definition, with a certain care, no matter how feeble.
You have curious notion
of satisfy. So you are one of those cognitive therapy types,
rearrange thoughts to what is acceptable to fashion?
Oh, no. No. But such an
attempt to realign a person's reasoning can be instructive, though
sometimes that revelatory process could tell more against the attempt
at realigning.
So there can be no
definite answer.
No more than to
speculate as to how far the - a - light can reveal the depth of
darkness independent of who's holding it.
I decided to like you
Professor.
But, of course, you
knew that was my intention almost immediately. And it's just a
courtesy title, as I mentioned.
And I suspect you are
willing to extend me same courtesy.
Indeed, I am.
So who is prisoner?
Or who is freer?
Perhaps now I take to
dislike.
Perhaps, but I don't
suppose you have just yet, though I grant you are perfectly capable.
You are ungenerous in
magnanimity. It does not suit you.
Yes, I deserved that.
Nor does false modesty.
It is not a look that
takes well with you either. Let us now get down to business.
Business?
The oldest profession.
Client and prostitute
not always easy to distinguish Professor.
You are right, they are
not.
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