The rambling is hitting Roland much differently. Not amusing, but too strangely familiar to be an annoyance. Listening to it - or, rather, listening past it, because the knack of listening to the tone of such chatter without hearing the words never quite leaves you - is moving rusty memories of a couple people he hasn't thought of in a long time.

So probably he'd be too distracted to care much about her words even if he did understand them. He looks to Donald instead, eyebrows raised in a silent question: Did you get any of that? Or, more probably, Was any of it important?