Joly hands Combeferre a replacement sandwich, gets one for himself, and sits cross-legged, thinking. "You define a riddle as a traditional test of wits. Does that mean the form or the precise content? If it's the precise content, surely you'll run out of riddles in time, and then what? Surely you have some interaction besides asking people riddles." The Sphinx seems to have its mouth full, so Joly continues on. "And if it's the form, than perhaps we can re-word our question for you. Would you like an apple? I seem to have apples. Er, that was also not a riddle."