I think that would make me... terribly uncomfortable. It would be another matter, if someone came to confide in me, but people's personal lives are their own.
[not to be shared around by some glorified town crier - at least, that is what Linneus is somewhat imagining. He rises to take their plates and to clear up. Surreptitiously checking Ash's teacup as he passes by - for content, and, if still full, for temperature, with a touch that somehow passes as accidental.]
I'mma just say a year because the writers helpfully X-out year prefaces... XD
[not to be shared around by some glorified town crier - at least, that is what Linneus is somewhat imagining. He rises to take their plates and to clear up. Surreptitiously checking Ash's teacup as he passes by - for content, and, if still full, for temperature, with a touch that somehow passes as accidental.]
It was '88. 1888.