"I am not well versed in-" He loses a moment, a thread of conversation as stimuli shifts and rebounds and resonates, becoming difficult to track. Overwhelming. "Figurative language and metaphor-"

Logic is straightforward. Analytical. Critical. And yet...

And yet.

Delta's hips hitch as he sucks in a breath, eye glowing brilliantly green as he stares down at Locus. "Yes."

His voice is low, fierce. A possessive twist he reserves for Taylor coils through.