[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190906/8a749958ff29d7df1f3c9a10b0dd1758.png[/img][/center] That Dame Patel would indulge him gave Ben a great source of humility. He did, at minimum, give her a nod of acknowledgement and appreciation. To think that communication went beyond letters and phones! Their evolution was one he was entirely unfamiliar with as the changing times often meant more stubborn vampires dug their heels in firmly in the old ways. While it was as good a time as any to remark on even his own father's stubbornness, he had to admit that he was in that camp as well. Aside from spending years crafting his penmanship, receiving phone calls from his mages and receiving letters from his father and others held two different methods that he was able to mentally compartmentalize; letters felt more personal and calls felt more accessible. Of course, he could simply be just like his father, but he would prefer to avoid that thought. The evolution of technology really did amaze him. He was aware of the Eve security detail using similar devices, but he was the last person to know. As his mage would attest, despite his young age Ben was not the most 'tech-savvy' (a term that still confuses him but to his chagrin is often uttered in his presence) vampire. This was not entirely uncommon regardless of a vampire's age. However, even the oldest would at minimum acknowledge the convenience and have their mages learn the new technology in order to keep up. For years he had assumed he would be going the same way as his mages were young and he was still cultivating his Luscin branch. Broadening his horizons and at least making an effort, however, was more prudent. Lilie had brought up the suggestion more than once. It didn't take much thought to realize that the typewriter he used for his assignments was slowly driving the mage up the wall. Ben had long gotten used to the clack of keys and would dare say he actually enjoyed it. Comparing it to the much softer clicking of a laptop did enlighten him to the difference. The poor girl would often retreat to her room or go outside whenever he worked. To her credit, she was always polite about it, but her dislike became obvious. And so there Ben was, listening intently to Dame Patel's lesson. The walkie-talkie (whose name he will never understand) in his hand felt like some mystical object. It was larger than he had expected for one, the dials and buttons a mystery to him. He wondered if his father knew of these. He took Dame Patel's warning to heart as he avoided any buttons; causing an awful racket was the last thing he wanted. He decided to take the advice to spread out as he rose from his chair. Once he had deemed himself far away enough he cleared his throat and pressed the button. [color=C0C0C0]"...I am not sure what to say,"[/color] he said, the thought only occurring to him after the matter.