Finger tapping at the cigarette rather idly, Emilia watches Galatea as she browses the bookshelves until she stops. She looks at her for a while longer before returning her attention to the book, although she is not really reading it by now, clearly listening to the warrior - her eyebrow raises slightly at her words and she nearly scoffs, but she can't help but to think that's not such a bad idea.

Still, Emilia will hardly do so, at least, not so soon. She tries not to think about the queer magic and the odd talking animals (which will forever bother her) and the whole thing. She frowns a little bit, mind travelling far already.

But she comes back to her senses when Galatea closes the book, looking up at her once more, watching as she puts it back on the shelf. She looks down at the book she's holding, looks at a distant bookshelf and shrugs slightly. She has been entertained so far. There are some author from home, some she has never heard and some that have a too weird name for her to dare to read, in fear it'll be an epic love story between an alien with a trunk for a nose and a creature with too many limbs.

"Some of them are all right, actually," she says with a shrug, picking up the cigarette. "At least they help me spend the time."

But it's not like she doesn't get a little tired of reading all the time.