It isn't the type of compliment that Ishiah receives often.

There are certain types of listening that he does well. Passively, Ishiah's capable of taking in just about any information, processing it silently, in the back of his mind, and gleaning the important factors for future use. It's a skill very necessary to run a bar that's open to all creatures of all backgrounds, to be able to see the red flags where they exist and help iron them out before things truly take a turn for the worse.

The notion that he can provide a listening ear for more than that, however, strikes him silent, his eyes clouded with confusion as he glances at Buffy. (He doesn't even remember when it was that she started calling him Ish, and that drives a bolt towards his stomach as well, a shock of realization. Friendship is one of many things that sneaks up on a person. He didn't see it coming, this time.)

Lips curving, he nods. "I am glad you think so. Although I'm not sure when, along the line, I've picked up such a skill."