She nods, realization dawning. There is a difference. And so she carefully works through each in turn, mouthing each of the words as she does so.

And afterwards, because she can, she takes a sheet of paper, picking up a red coloured pencil that is close-ish to his hair, and then writes his name, in Katolian script.

Here. Esteban, in my home language, she signs, before offering it over.