Palomides is not a stupid man. In fact, he is quite an intelligent man. Like most intelligent men, though, he has an immeasurably small dose of common sense
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... that is not the reaction he was expecting, although his typist admits to no surprise whatsoever. "Really, you could at least pretend not to notice that yours truly is sequestered here. For the look of the thing."
"It is unsubtle. Apologies, of course." Since there appears to be little purpose in pretending that he's still hidden and observing, he inquires, "Might you be a vampire?"
"For example. Yours truly had been told that vampires are no better than beasts with human cunning, and also that vampires give fashion advice. The library indicates that vampires shy away from garlic, that they cannot cross water, and that they have an obsessive compulsion to pick up grains of rice or to find missing shoes--and also that vampires are eminently rational and efficient." Dryly, "The facts do not align."
He leans back in his chair. "I've met some vampires who are as different from myself as I am from you," he says carefully, "And I sense that there are many more."
He will leave his hiding-room and emerge in the main hall, sheepish and with little bits of plaster in his beard. "But to continue. What do you wish to have known about vampires?"
He looks at the setup. Looks at the place where Palomides is concealed, looks back at the bowl, throws back his head and just laaaaughs.
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The typist would like to note that Palomides kind of makes her life a little better.
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That's what he aims to do!
Typist: Off to run errands; back in a few hours!
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