[Chekov meanders back into the conversation to the sounds of a wholly unfamiliar language--one of those far eastern ones that he has absolutely no knowledge of. He sighs and remarks, in near-perfect (if somewhat distorted) Polish:]
If we must speak a foreign language around the dinner table, can it be one that we all understand?
[He doesn't know if either of them knows Polish, of course. It would make him feel less stupid--linguistically--if they didn't.]
no subject
If we must speak a foreign language around the dinner table, can it be one that we all understand?
[He doesn't know if either of them knows Polish, of course. It would make him feel less stupid--linguistically--if they didn't.]