[The restlessness of Europe was outdone only by the economic sickness that had swept over the entire global economy. For the first time in history--or at least since Rome--whole continents were affected by the financial decisions of a relative few. An evening chatting with a remarkable woman about crumbling ruins and long dead people was a macabre beacon amidst the otherwise dreary daily drudgery of which he's so weary.
Those Bembridge Scholars were pompous prats, in Arthur's opinion; content to sip expensive brandy atop their ivory tower of so-called academic superiority. For science and reason to flourish required the free expression of ideas and open exchange--and a willingness to accept that what you believed to be right was actually wrong. And sometimes... to believe that the impossible is actually quite probable, if it wasn't already staring you in the face.
Arthur has tea and biscuits prepared, along with a little tray of sandwiches he meticulously put together. He's dressed simply, wearing trousers and old leather shoes, a white collared shirt with a necktie and the sleeves rolled up, and a matching argyle waistcoat. Hearing the knocks, he gives himself a good once-over in a hallway mirror, tries to straighten his unruly hair (in vain), and answers the door.
It's unusual for him to feel butterflies when entertaining humans, but he does quite fancy Evie.
The dress stops him and temporarily renders him incapable of speech.]
I-- uh-- hello-- Ms. Carnahan. Good-- good evening. To you. Yes. Please come in.
no subject
Those Bembridge Scholars were pompous prats, in Arthur's opinion; content to sip expensive brandy atop their ivory tower of so-called academic superiority. For science and reason to flourish required the free expression of ideas and open exchange--and a willingness to accept that what you believed to be right was actually wrong. And sometimes... to believe that the impossible is actually quite probable, if it wasn't already staring you in the face.
Arthur has tea and biscuits prepared, along with a little tray of sandwiches he meticulously put together. He's dressed simply, wearing trousers and old leather shoes, a white collared shirt with a necktie and the sleeves rolled up, and a matching argyle waistcoat. Hearing the knocks, he gives himself a good once-over in a hallway mirror, tries to straighten his unruly hair (in vain), and answers the door.
It's unusual for him to feel butterflies when entertaining humans, but he does quite fancy Evie.
The dress stops him and temporarily renders him incapable of speech.]
I-- uh-- hello-- Ms. Carnahan. Good-- good evening. To you. Yes. Please come in.