"Hmm," Verne nods noncommittally. "Better a following of two or four than twenty or forty, non? More would suggest the Ancient Masters were more successful in their Madness or... would it suggest them more lacking in their grip on said insanity. More or less?" The clockwork veteran's gears slipped and stuttered at the thought and implications his shattered mind was no longer to fit to properly to analyze.
The lad was smiling again. He nodded there as well. "Yes. The club is quite... splendid," he agreed with a curt nod of civility wondering if he'd ever been to a 'cub' before. "Honorifics. Despite your youthful charms, Honorifics are a burden you'll no doubt learn to suffer with age. Modest men must suffer compliments, the young must suffer the spoils of maturity. All very unpleasant, but what can a gentleman do otherwise?"
"Ah, yes. This FUN-derland. House of Mirror's, eh? Sure you're not a Spring, lad? Sounds very... aesthete. Ah. Less your one them Fairest, then. That could explain it, non? But they seldom have the modest streak, one might suspect you favor. Winter, it is then," Verne's gears stuttered. Had he just insulted the youth. And he had called him, 'lad' as well. That at least was rude. Mere 'lads' didn't craft such splendid affairs nor have the ear of Queens, no matter how brief their Court.The young ling must think him the worst of fools.
No. CAD! That was the right of it. The boy should think him a Cad not a fool. Less he choose both a once. It would be a fair choice, that.The clockwork ling, shook his head in apologies. "There are names for such... services. 'Page' among them, non? Not an expert," Verne shrugged distractedly. This was one of those matters where longer term memory failed him once again. His thoughts were too often like Swiss Cheese with Hedge filling all the holes. "Is there to be Swiss Chess found amongst this most brilliant feast, Mister Quick? Just realized... can't quite recall the flavor of it. Must have. Most surely. At some point. Yet .. what mind remembers, tongue does not."
"Ever have moments like those, Mister Quick," he smiled awkwardly at the kindly Winter ling as he happily recalled the lad's original request. "I'm sorry. You'd questions, non? Have they been answered to satisfaction, then? sometimes I..."
Verne's gears stuttered as he wondered what he was doing in the company of a comely young lad in a regally adorned room. Banquet hall was it?Wait. No. Club. Winter's Masquerade. Mister Quick. A fabulous, magical dress. God awful costumes. No sense to it at all.
"Apologies Mister Quick," Verne remarked coolly, "Sometimes I ...drift."
Draft this Post
Striking Looks
Dexterity
