[ Matt is more or less used to being manhandled, ever since high school where the athletic girls all took turns seeing if they could lift him. But the utter ease with which this person's pulled him back is--unusual, to say the least. Kind of a pleasure to feel, in the sense that Matt appreciates anyone who knows their capabilities with such precision.

He glances towards the Manor staff in question, then back to his rescuer. ]

Minotaurs--is what we'd call them, back home. [ What we would have called them? What we used to call them? Verb tenses pose a problem; Matt's mind skips over the implications like a stone. ] Uh, okay, appetite ... is that ...

[ His apologetic smile resembles a grimace. ]

Please don't be too hard on me if the answer to this is "duh." But does that have anything to do with the sort of ... entropic phase we all find ourselves in?