She tries not to point out that Clarisse is barely twenty years old.

... What was she like at that age? Did she feel like she knew much? She's thinking of a different person, a Gela unburdened by bad luck. She sighs, and cups her palm around the back of her neck underneath of her hair, holding herself, suddenly uncharacteristically moody.

Eventually, this shift in tone relents. She straightens, and reaches for her cup. "If the best time to learn it was before you got here, surely the second best time is now."

So she's doing well. "What else are you learning?"