James wrote, "How?" And gave the notebook back. The thought of help seemed like a relieving word, but getting his hopes up too much only to be disappointed was starting to become another nightmare--that very well may plague the rest of his life. He held his head, all the Latin in his brain was rushing at him at once. The first time he studied Latin, he felt drunk. He figured dead languages had that effect, but now, the drunken feeling was a cloud of darkness ready to pour down. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front them. They had only just met, but his sister, soror amor. The thought of her kept biting his mind.