Vanitas can, in fact, read, though it's never something he's thought to dwell on. While his emotional understanding of the world is horribly altered, he was a full person, once upon a time. That person had never been the best at anything, always just short of recognition and always alone, but within Vanitas are the building blocks of a whole individual.

But he's never really stopped to sit and read before. It was never something that he was encouraged to do. His life was training, and sleeping, and training some more. Everything was listlessly staring into the blue sky, the night sky, the long smudge of a horizon. Even here, he's never gone out of his way to seek it out. It just never occurred to him.

He arches up an eyebrow, canting his head. "You want to give me more information about your life." It's a question, phrased as an incredulous statement. They both know that Vanitas will routinely use this information to his cruel advantage. He's done it to Quentin before. Vanitas is a little surprised he's offering it up so freely.