tushanshu | III. But I don't like scenes, except on the stage.

[In which Lord Henry treats the text feature as if it were a telegram service.]

[Text, private to Dorian Gray]
[This message is sent after two days' discreet waiting after Toby's arrival. Henry is not blind and definitely noticed Dorian's reaction, but (wisely, probably) did not interfere, and has allowed time to pass before approaching Dorian—and has also been studiously avoiding Toby. He has no idea whether his friend will answer, but even if he doesn't, that will tell him much of what he needs to know.]

Are you well? I do not wish to intrude, of course, but I could not help but notice a certain amount of recent excitement.

[Text, private to Alcuin nó Delaunay]
I hope this finds you well—would you be available to dine or for a drink sometime soon? I should like to hear of your progress with our yellow book.

[Open action nice choice and not so nice, post-trainwreck choice]

[ETA: Disturbing conversations about murder and possible eventual bad behaviour within.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[In a corner behind a shelf where he is quietly trying to reorganise the wreckage left by an earlier customer, Henry is so absorbed in his task that he completely fails to notice Reid looking about, and he almost doesn't notice the bell. Because, after all, he's been trained to ignore bells; they're for tradesmen and servants and porters, after all.

And then he remembers—he needs to pay attention to these things now.

And Daowei is out. Again.

So with a quiet sigh he shelves the book in his hand and emerges. Just because he's an employee, though, doesn't mean he has to act like one. At first glance he might appear to be just another customer.]

Good afternoon. Are you looking for Daowei?

[Well, if it's one thing he's good at it's recognizing certain characteristics about someone based on available information and cues. It doesn't even occur to him that Henry might be an employee, he's too... obvious aristocracy.]

No-- well, sort of. I was hoping to pay for these. I could just come back later. Are you friends with him?

Yes.

[Said without hesitation and not even the slightest inkling that it might be a stretch of the truth.]

Lord Henry Wotton, at your service. Daowei has gone out, but I'm sure he won't mind if I assist you with your—[my goodness, that's a lot of books]—selection.

[HOW DOES SHOT SOCIAL CONVENTION. Of course he knows theoretically how to interact with a Lor--

He blinks.

With Lord Henry Wotton.

He's known there's a man here going by the name Dorian Gray, that there's superheroes and people who speak in Old English, but-- encountering book characters is another thing entirely.

Spencer answers him with a smile, only the slightest bit tight at the edges. He really doesn't need more evidence that he's possibly lost his mind. To someone for whom books were more a reality than reality itself, encountering a character (fictional?) from a favoured novel is... not pleasant.]

Spencer Reid.

[That's sort of blurted out reflexively in answer to Henry's own name.]

I-- um, if it's no trouble?

[Henry is a perceptive fellow and that blink-and-smile doesn't entirely elude him. He's not sure what to make of it at this juncture, though.]

It is no trouble at all, I assure you. Have you found everything that you are looking for?

[Which is mostly a comment on the number of books he's collected.]

[He's still stuck on that point don't mind him...]

Hm? No-- I mean-- it's all I'm looking for today. Right now. I'll probably be back tomorrow.

[Tomorrow is payday, after all, and books don't come cheaply in this city.]

You will be quite welcome, I am sure. [He's certainly a massive improvement over the other fellow, in any case; so long as he continues polite, Henry certainly won't object.] Have you a particular subject of interest? I am sure Daowei would be happy to set aside anything you like.

I'm actually looking for anything on architectural theory. I'd really like illustrative examples if at all possible, the language is a little difficult to navigate.

[Although being a genius has its perks.]

Quite so. That is not, I confess, my area of expertise, but I am sure that if I pass your query on, you may find a selection set aside for you. [And then, because he can't help being curious:] That is an interestingly specialised subject; may I ask why you're investigating it?

[That's a loaded question, and Reid manages a bit of a smile as he considers how to frame his answer.]

The various stages that a culture goes through, architecturally speaking, can tell us a great deal about Keeliai as a whole. I've done some research on my own and I believe there've been three distinct and separate 'ages', with older buildings being more sophisticated and newer ones showing the strain of the limited resources of the city. Given that there's a dearth of information on the city's history, I thought that we might be able to piece it together in a different way or series of ways.

Yes, the history that I have thus far reviewed appears to hold by the dictum no good story is ever improved by the inclusion of an excess of facts. I do not disagree, but that is undoubtedly frustrating to the scholarly mind. [He likes Reid, he decides.] But what conclusion is there to be drawn from this, apart from expanding what we foreigners know? There is, to be sure, some benefit in getting to know this place if we are to be trapped here for the duration.

I'm not certain yet, actually.

[And his brow furrows as he says that, because trust him when he says it's not something he particularly likes admitting.]

But the more I know about this place as a cumulative whole, the closer I can come to informed extrapolations about not only the particular nature of this place but also any potential ways home.

[Since. Homesick. It's a thing.]

You are an optimist. [Said with a smile.] But I have only the greatest respect for the methods of science, and I should be very interested in any discoveries that you make.

I'm not, actually. An optimist, I mean. I-- [... he pauses a moment and glances at the stack of books.]

Optimism in and of itself is the belief in or hope for the best possible outcome. And while I'm no stranger to hope, it's not something that I believe should be singularly relied upon to produce a specific or set outcome.

[Spencer Reid: Realist. Because working in the BAU sort of grinds a guy down over the near-decade he's been doing it.]

That said, I'd be glad to share any discoveries I make, Lord Henry.

[You amuse Henry, Reid. This is a good thing.]

Your precision of thought is commendable, and, I daresay, a rarity in this world of untidy thinkers who are apt to seize the first notion that comes to hand, as if it were a stick at the top of a woodpile. Should you wish to seek me out in the future, you may often find me here, or at my residence in the Fire sector.

[He knows a dismissal when he hears one and-- that reminds him to pull money from his pocket and set it on the counter for the necessary exchange of commerce.]

I'd like that. Um-- thank you. For your help.

You are entirely welcome, dear boy.

[Henry doesn't reach for the money; given a choice, he would rather spirit it into the till when no one is looking, after all.]

I hope to see you again soon.

[He flashes a bit of a smile and, books in hand, takes his leave.]

III. But I don't like scenes, except on the stage.

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