Theon reaches out, scarred hand squeezing Neil's shoulder. He's been there himself, hasn't he? There's not much to say there, unless Neil wants to say more, and he's trying to think of how he should inquire when Neil laughs at him.

His mouth tugs up in a sheepish grin.

"To write... books," Theon says, though he knows there's more to it. "You know I touched maybe three books in my life before I came here. I'm just glad I know how to read." He sighs. "I suppose I didn't connect the two.