"Nu, thou shalt see a lifetime's fill of such, here," Lev says, a little glumly. "And stories, feh. Stories ... I suppose not all worlds run on stories, as mine does, but ..." he shrugs, and drinks his shandy. He'd meant to trail off meaningfully, but a moment's thought leads him to conclude that Leon might not arrive at the conclusion he'd like him to arrive at — not because Leon's stupid (not at all, even if Leon's very much the Pasha type), but because Leon's innocent, radiating ingenue rose thorn to all and sundry like a beacon.

He probably, thinks Lev, subconsciously believes in chivalry.

Or maybe not so subconsciously. He did hold the door open for Lev.

With a sigh, Lev elaborates, "if there are stories, there's something going on. Now, like, feh, often enough, what's going on is tragic or sordid, but involves not no ghosts. But like ... I mean, surely thou hast seen something what defies a logical explanation, or at least a logical explanation within like, the bounds of living flesh and flowing blood?"