( Because there's nothing to see, he almost wants to reply, but he knows better than to say it. He wonders if Max would like Morgana, because sometimes they say such similar things, even though they are so different. His smile is rueful, though he does nothing particular to undermine her observation.

Letting his hand slide away from the sphinx, he takes a moment to consider it. ) It's-- the sphinx p-protected Thebes. She um, she asked r-riddles. ( A brief, moment, looking up at her, because Thebes would mean nothing. ) Um. Ancient G-- Greece, it was a civilisation, um. They-- it uh, is meant to b-be this-- like a foundation? For the modern... modern world.

( That was a lot of words, and he hangs his head, feeling a little exhausted by it, because he can just imagine his father's face, Phoebe's expression as well, at that explanation and how they could go on and on for hours. And in the end, it doesn't even matter. Phoebe or his father could recite the stories of the sphinx at length analyse them, could give Morgana quotes and references, and it wouldn't be the truth of it at all.

His fingertips traces the outline of it, expression wavering. ) It's Max.