Her ready willingness to share helps a little, and Devin watches her mark out the lettering. He studies the chalk on the slate when it's handed to him, noting few distinct similarities with the language he knows. Not the newest script, anyway.

The absent gesture with her ring is noticed but not commented on. "Entropy is a constant," he says after a moment. The notebook gets a few more seconds of observation before Devin picks up the chalk. "Commonalities in some worlds doesn't mean there's a thread between them all, necessarily. It is suggestive, I'll grant you that, but it's a hard thing to prove."

He clears the slate and begins writing out a portion of his own Enochian alphabet. It has as many curves as hard edges, letters with curling tails and a variation in thickness of some lines. "Each represents a sound. The grammar is exceedingly strict, and the vocabulary shared with mere mortals is incomplete, but I know enough to be a problem," Devin remarks, hand steady as he completes the set. One or two of them almost seem to glow as they're marked out, but only barely. "It's an alphabet, but individual symbols are roots of effects, and can be used on their own. It's blunt, and leaves a lot of wiggle room for intent; they serve in a pinch."