When he's... more or less tidied the journals into a steadier heap, he shuffles behind his desk - and as he turns he's mildly embarrassed by how little space there is in here for someone of Hollow's size. Lemm quickly stuffs this feeling under a general haughtiness: well, if the room is too small, they shouldn't have come in, that isn't his fault. It's also not his fault there's only one chair in this room. Or that the place smells vaguely of dust and drying ink.

"Careful around those," he says, even though he can already see his guest is taking his advice and touching nothing. "I've yet to translate most of them."

Lemm takes out a quill, an ink bottle, and a sheaf of relatively dry parchment he's managed to get hold of, and lays all of these out on the desk. He seats himself and folds his hands conspiratorially on the counter.

"So."

Where to begin? He hesitates, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"It wouldn't be a coincidence I found the Hollow Knight's identical twin right in front of the memorial, would it?" It's spoken like an accusation, but his expression doesn't match his tone. Lemm looks eager. "I'll warn you not to string me along."

Despite how much that question has been burning him, this is also a test. If his strange guest doesn't speak, which he suspects, then he's about to gauge how they communicate at all.