Are we not a gentlemanne? How rude of us would it be to not act politely towards such an esteemed inspector. We must, of course, offer him the finest wine and the best seats in the house.
Surely, he is tired too? We should inquire if he needs a place to stay for the night and whether he would prefer to reside in our guest chambers or, if that is not to his comfort, at the village inn.
You are indeed a Gentlemanne! You shall treat this Inspector politely.
You head down to the village where you find the Inspector quizzing the locals in the tavern. The villagers are acting like a bunch of inbred farmhands, an act which, admittedly, does not require much in the way of, well, acting.
The Inspector notices you come in and waves you towards a seat as he continues to explain what constitutes strange occurrences to a trio of children who he does not realise are making faces when he is not looking. Eventually he gives up, and as the children run off, he turns to you.
He has goggles. Smoke-tinted goggles.
He addresses you crudely. He introduces himself, and waves away your own introduction, stating that he already knows all about you. He proceeds to command you to take him to your manor. He then comments on your twitching eyebrows.
But you are a Gentlemanne and will not descend to his level. You handle as best as you can with the man's offensive manner, and make polite conversation to which the replies are gruff and monosyllabical. At your manor you offer him food and wine which he refuses, preferring to eat and drink from personal supplies, and a room, which he accepts.
After the -what must pass for- pleasantries are over he starts to ask questions. What have you been doing since you left the Institute, asks he. Passing the time, say you. Raising chickens, growing vegetables, etcetera. Really, says he, that is not like you. No, say you, but what is like me got people killed, haha. He does not join in your laughter, but scribbles in a notebook. Have you considered returning to Science, asks he. Yes, say you, but the Institute was not to reinstate my Licence for at least two years. That is not what I meant, says he, have you considered Science without License? No, say you. Hmm, says he.
Afterwards he searches through your house. The first few rooms he taps every wood panel and looks under every portrait, but by the end he is barely glancing in to check that there is not a hulking monstrosity sitting on the floor.
You have an exceedingly large house, says he, in a manner that you find, quite frankly, provocative.
He then retires to his room. You hear the door being locked.
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Topic: Gentlemanne of Natural Philosophie! (Read 43659 times)