That's what they all say. Then, before you know it, you're in front of the university tribunal, trying to prove it was your work in the first place.

[That's a joke. She's given him no reason to think she's after his secrets, and he was the one who left the door open anyway, so perhaps he's only half-serious about the notes being sensitive. Still, he's not rude, so he closes his notebook and straightens, standing to properly greet his visitor. (Because that's what he should do, right? Even though he has no real idea of how they're all supposed to behave in this strange mind realm. Weird. It's fine. He'll figure it out.)

She says he looks busy and he casts a glance down at the desk, as if he's trying to catalogue what he's already recreated and how much is left to go.]

Well, there's a lot to remember. An incomplete set of notes isn't very useful.