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"None whatsoever!" Grave agreed whole-heartedly. He gripped her hand as tightly as he could - nothing compared with her strength - in an attempt to keep his arm from being wrenched from its socket with the Sanguines enthusiasm. "We ought to practise together to see if we can teach ourselves how to ammalgamate all we've learned into fighting skills. I have been slowly teaching myself to use Mudras in combination with other skills, but it comes slowly for me. I..." Grave scowled suddenly, his face dark with something terribly close to self-loathing. "I have a terrible weakness. I freeze, Kallisto. When I'm in danger, or those I lvoe are in danger, I just seize up. I need to beat that weakness out of me. I can never be a Grigori if I don't master it." He fell silent and pensive, thinking over his own weakness and brooding.

Grave listened to her response, hoping that it would shed some light on inner courage that he'd as of yet not been able to find. But shaking his head he realized it wasn't so simple. "It isn't like that...It's not indecision. I just go blank. I just stare, and i can't think, and I can't move. In sparring it's different. It isn't the real thing, and on some level I know that, and so I plot, I plan, I act." Grave shrugged and smiled appologetically. "I'm sorry, I don't want you to feel as though you've got to sort out the broken inner workings of me...But you ought to know that about me." He looked passed her to the bookshelves and sighed inaudibly. "In Torrid's case there was no anger, no guilt, no horror at first, just shock. After it was over, then a few feelings came, but not many. After it was over I could think again...but...by then it was too late." He returned his gaze to Kallisto's face, and smiled in spite of himself, cheered by her presence. "I can't have it be too late when it matters. That, more than anything, is what I am training for. And if I'm able to train with you, I want you to not hold back, because you're stronger than I am, and I need to be pushed so that I'll grow stronger too." Grave had that spark of ambition back in his eyes, but his hands were still curled together in his lap as if mourning something he did not have.

As Kallisto slumped to the table, Grave reached out a soft hand and rubbed her nearest shoulder comfortingly. "I'm not terribly good with emotions. I don't understand them, they just are with me. I used to try to supress them, to ignore them because they didn't make sense to me. But I learned how to appreciate them and when I did that they began to intrigue me. Now I'm very curious about them. I've been trying very hard to understand them. They're great motivators, I find. But whatever understanding I've managed to glean has only made me sympathize with everyone, even when they're wrong. So that, in cases like Gregor, or Bardane, I can't just dismiss their actions. I have to think about their motives, that's what's important to me. Not what they are doing, but why. Because it's the Why that changes the meaning. The difference between a slap to reprimand a friend and a slap to pain him. The difference between a hug that comforts and a hug that lusts for... The reasons we do things shapes our actions, and the feelings that form those reasons defines our actions as meanings. It's the meaning that is how we communicate and how we interact and how we grow together." Grave trailed off, suddenly realizing he'd been speaking aloud. His thoughts, vocalized and echoing from the deep bookshelves around them. He blinked at Kallisto, a little bewildered, as if he had not known such words were in him and watched her, wondering if any of it had made sense.

Grave's face cleared to a perfect mask of smooth expresionless beauty. He evaluated Kallisto swiftly, in barely a heartbeat he'd made his decision. "Friends indeed." Grave held out his hand to Kallisto, wanting her to offer hers in return. He murmured softly. "There are many more emotions, I'm learning, than there are distinct physical manifestations. Context and connotation need to be felt and learned how to be read. It is important to learn how to distinguish between levels of emotion. Terror, fear, horror, petrification, unease, loathing, fright - these are all manners of Phobia, but they aren't the same. I believe it is these differences that help to determine what sort of people will react to the same stimulus." Grave shrugged and waved a hand as if to clear his words from the air. "I'm rambling, forgive me..."

Grave lifted Kallisto's hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the backs of her knuckles with a gentle smile. "Believe me, you have much more to offer than you think. I find that Sanguines make me open up far more than my Melancholy Essence would normally allow. For instance, it is because of Mathiaz that I embrace emotions at all. Something about your Sangunie fire and pep and vitality...it warms these cold Melancholy nerves." Grave made a humble gesture, as if he were an old and feeble man, but his face was bright and his grin wry.

Grave smiled and shook his head. "I never flatter, I compliment." Then he blinked at her question. "Ah? Oh, yes, I think I've remembered all I can for the moment." Grave turned to the desk and began to gather up the Tarot cards. He chuckled as Kallisto's stomach growled. "I'm sure you must be, Kinesthetic that you are, your muscles must be screaming for meat." Grave smiled as he said it and collected three books from the desktop that he intended to borrow. "Let me just ask Requiem if I can..." Grave swayed unsteadily as he stood up, a head rush making his vision spin. "Oog, I think I'd better eat something too, I feel even weaker than usual!" He laughed it off, back had to focus to get the swimming lines of bookshelves return to being stationary rows.

"I'd love it if you borrowed a book or three." Grave smiled happily. "A kinesthetic borrowing a book and a Melancholic remembering to eat..." Grave made his way to the front of the Library and looked about for Requiem. Finding him crouched over a massive tome on the floor, Grave lifted his books and cleared his throat. "Requiem... I want to borrow another three, if I may..." Requiem jumped in his skin, his fur fluffing cutely. He turned and grinned sheepishly. "I've got Healing Power of Chakras, Sparring, and Magical Portions of Worldly Ingredients. May I borrow these?" Grave smiled as Requiem adjusted his half-moon spectacles and jotted down notes in the Library Registry.

Hand in hand, a certain pair of boys wandered into the library on their way to pick up a manual on treatments and diagnosing health issues to aid in their newly started apprenticeship in the Infirmary.

Together they passed by Requiem and the zeros he was attending to, waving to say hi before they dissapeared into the tall stacks. Argentum broke off, gesturing towards the more social and literature inclined section while Aureus continued into the more scientific sections.

It didn't take long for the silvery Argentum to find his way into the Law area - one of his favoured sections. Browsing the titles, he moved sideways, lost in thought as he contemplated the volumes and bumped into Yalitza. Startled, he jumped and fell backwards, eyes going wide. "Wha-!?" When he saw it was only another Empyrean, he laughed softly and adjusted his ruffled clothing. "I'm sorry! I didn't see you there. Are you interested in Law too?"