Cute?
The girl's robotic tones don't seem to bother Luard, he's used to such monotony, often speaking as such himself. As for this cute thing, of course he knows what the word means, a form of visual attractiveness in an endearing, non-threatening way, but its never seemed anything like a priority
there are plenty of insects, the forest, the city. They permeate the very air. Not very useful either, like most people, I never really pay them any heed.
His meditation unofficially over, Luard finally stands back up, his long dark cloak scraping against the ground. Surprisingly it doesn't seem to get dirty regardless of its treatment