Paradox Lost: Part 7
This one had to go through a couple of rewrites as well, but I like how it came out in the end. Hershel is just too cute! And he seems to be keeping those light-fingered tendencies, so there could be a chance of him holding those skills in the future.
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Paradox Lost
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hershel settled himself comfortably on a bench, clutching the bag in his arms and grinning to himself. There must be a lot of interesting things inside it; why else would Sir Luke go through so much trouble to keep it safe and at his side always? A tiny voice in his head reprimanded him, telling him it wasn't a very gentlemanly thing to do to be poking in the private things of other people, but his curiosity was piqued and there wasn't much around to deter him from looking inside the bag.
The smile faded. Except for a punishment. If Sir Luke found out he was going through his bag, Hershel was more than sure he'd be punished severely for it. Oh, what horror would befall him? A switch? He shuddered, wincing in phantom pain. An open hand? He cringed at the thought of it. Or maybe... oh the horror of horrors! A belt! What if he used a belt?!
Wait. Did Sir Luke even have one?
Hershel thought it over, reaching back into his memory to discern whether or not he had such a thing. The majority of the previous night was a flurry of panic and squealing maids, his mother issuing out commands like one of those generals he read about in the papers. And then there was the deadly quiet that surrounded them all when one of the maids hurried up to his mother and whispered something into her ear. She looked startled and Hershel had gotten very worried; his mother never made a face like that. Nothing surprised her; it was impossible to keep secrets from her. She had rushed into the room where the maids had carried Sir Luke's body and he followed quietly, peeking in to see what was going on. His mother was holding something shiny at the table and Sir Luke was lying in bed fast asleep, most of his clothes already removed for changing. Ah-hah! Now Hershel remembered! He did have a belt of sorts, two of them, but they didn't go around his waist. They went over his shoulders, like the bag he carried.
Oh, was he going to get it once Sir Luke returned.... Hershel sighed, fidgeting for a moment, then took a deep breath and smiled again. Well, if he was going to get a whipping, then it might as well be worth it! He flicked open the clasp to the satchel and opened it, peering inside. There were lots of papers at first and Hershel picked through a few of them out of curiosity. Too many big words; he frowned at the writing in frustration. His vocabulary was a lot more substantial compared to most other boys his age, but even these words were beyond him. He set the papers aside and went on digging. There was a book on puzzles and Hershel opened it up, eyes going wide at all the different picture puzzles, word puzzles, math puzzles... all kinds! He didn't know Sir Luke liked puzzles; his mother had an affinity for them, too. What was it she liked to say that confounded his father so much? 'Every puzzle has an answer. You must use your wits and knowledge to find that answer. Then no puzzle can stop you from achieving your dreams.'
"Every puzzle has an answer." Hershel echoed and the taste of the words felt right. He hugged the book, then set it aside with more care than he did the papers. Another check of the bag and he pulled out a newspaper clipping, blinking as he read through it. Some of the words had been marked out and the picture had been torn to pieces, but he could make out the phrase 'Professor Hershel Layton laid to rest' and the rest was obscured by ink. The article must have been about his grandfather, Hershel Layton, Sr., who died when Hershel was five years old. He sniffed at the memory of the funeral, then carefully pocketed the clipping. It might not be in good condition but that was probably because Sir Luke must have been very sad by his grandfather's passing. All of London had been at the time.
Hershel went rooting around in the bag one last time, pulling out a glass jar with a cork stopper that held a small coin inside. He blinked at it, confused, and rattled the jar, listening to the coin hit the sides with small clinks. Was this another kind of puzzle? His face took on a pensive expression and he sat very still and quiet, thinking it over.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Luke walked back into the open rooms of the museum and stopped to lean against the wall, drawing his blue jacket closer around himself. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he could just imagine Professor Layton scolding him about his behavior. Of the few times he'd ever gotten upset or even angry, a good deal of them came from Luke letting his emotions get the better of him and throwing his gentlemanly lessons to the wind. He never struck Luke, but his words would always cut him to the core. 'I'm very disappointed in you, Luke; I had thought I taught you better.' He didn't act as he should have in that room, and those words replayed in his mind.
"I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to, but this mission means so much to me." he whispered pleadingly, covering his face with one hand, "I just want to have you back again. I want you and me and Flora together again, as a family. You two were all I had...." The sounds of footsteps behind him snapped him out of his melancholy and he straightened quickly, rubbing at his eyes to wipe away any tears that may have formed. He turned to see who was coming towards him and blinked in surprise to see Olivia hurry towards him, a worried look on her face and her hand clutched over her heart.
"Sir Luke, are you okay? You didn't seem at all like yourself and just now...!" she exclaimed and Luke offered her a weak smile, reaching out to place a hand over hers in comfort.
"I know. It was very unbecoming of me. I apologize for my behavior towards you and your grandfather. I truly appreciate what you've done for me." he murmured and glanced aside, "The pocket-watch brings up painful memories, and I can't always control myself in the presence of those memories." Olivia pursed her mouth, looking saddened by the confession.
"I'm sorry, too. I didn't realize you had such a traumatic history. May I ask what happened? If I'm not being rude, that is." she whispered tearfully. Luke shook his head, pulling his hand back to run through his hair, settling his cap back in place once done.
"My mentor had been killed and I was left alone for a few years. I'm traveling to prevent a similar tragedy from happening to another boy I know." he worded carefully, "I can't say much more than that as I'm also investigating to see who might have caused that death." He managed a small smile. "That's why your grandfather repairing my pocket-watch is so important. It will help me in the investigation." he added and gestured towards the rest of the museum, "That's why I want to donate to this museum. All the money I possess I would gladly trade for the chance to save a life." Olivia smiled back through her tears.
"You truly are a gentleman at heart, Sir Luke." she told him, "Hershel will learn much from you." Luke managed a chuckle at the idea.
"Yes, but I have the feeling he will far surpass me one day. Right, Hershel?" he remarked and turned to look for the small boy, but he wasn't in the immediate area. Luke scanned the room again, quickly, and felt his breath catch. Where was he? And where was his bag?! "Hershel? Hershel?!" he called out again, louder and more panicked, running out with the curator following him quickly.
They searched the museum, room by room, and dread filled Luke from head to toe, filling his mind with all sorts of grim images and possibilities. He'd been followed through time by the murderer and they found Hershel, a random pedophile took a liking to him and kidnapped the boy, he wandered outside and was struck down by a passing carriage or motorcar... thousands of scenarios flashed through his mind and he grew more and more panicked with each second Hershel wasn't found.
"Hershel!" he cried, voice rising to near hysterical ranges as he tore through the rooms, eyes wide and frantic, "Hershel Layton, answer me! Where are you?!" Olivia rushed in after him, unnoticed by the young man as he scanned the area for the boy in the familiar brown top hat and cloak, finally spotting him slumped on a bench and surrounded by papers and his open bag. Luke stood frozen in place, face turning ashen at the sight of the little figure. Not again, not again...!
He found him slumped against the bookshelf in his office, surrounded by papers and books scattered on the floor. Luke's first thought was that the Professor had simply fallen asleep there, sitting on the floor after solving a difficult puzzle. But as he drew closer and called to him, he noticed spatterings of red on those papers and books, and then on the Professor's clothes. His eyes followed the trail in horror, drawing a scream from his mouth when he saw the stain that completely covered Professor Layton's orange shirt.
The scene played through again, overlapping what he saw before him as Luke slowly walked forward, hand reaching out to collect the jar and set it aside. He bit his lip fearfully, then set his fingertips against the boy's neck; warm and there was a pulse. Olivia stayed behind, watching with a puzzled look before understanding what happened and gazing more warmly at the scene. Hershel squirmed slightly under the sudden contact, knocking his hat off his head as he blinked sleepily up at his mentor.
"Sir Luke? When-? What-?" he asked in confusion, looking around himself as the young man choked back a sob, gripping his shoulders tightly with both hands.
"Why didn't you stay in the main hall? Do you have any idea what I went through just now? You're not supposed to wander off; what if you'd gotten hurt or worse?" Luke growled softly, hiding his face in the shadows of his cap again. Hershel squeaked at the tightening grip on his shoulders, struggling to get loose, and the young man finally loosened his hold, pulling back to check him more thoroughly for any injury. "Hershel, don't ever do that to me again!" he shouted, startling the boy further, and finally took in the sight of the papers and jar, his eyes narrowing as his mouth closed shut, lips pressed into a thin line. "You went into my bag." Luke murmured tonelessly. Hershel swallowed hard, shaking fearfully.
"I'm sorry, Sir Luke! I was just curious!" he stammered and flinched, drawing back and expecting a smack when Luke moved. But instead of doing anything to him, the blue-clad teen simply began gathering the papers and books, packing them away in the satchel. Hershel blinked and sat there in silence, watching with a confused look as Luke finished cleaning up, slung the satchel back over his shoulder and picked up the small jar, gazing into it as he sat down beside him. "Sir Luke?" Hershel called softly, brokenly, "Are you... angry? With me?" Luke remained quiet, simply looking into the jar and tracing his finger along the surface of the glass.
"This jar...." he finally said, just as Hershel was getting ready to break into tears of guilt and shame, "I found this jar long ago. It reminded my mentor of a puzzle and he set me to working on it. After I solved it, I asked if I could take the jar. It had been left on the ground, thrown away. Surely he wouldn't object to it, right?" He laughed hollowly and shook his head. "He said no. And he was quite adamant about it. It was a filthy jar, he told me, covered in germs. What if I got sick from handling it? Yet he asked me to pull a scrap of painting from inside it, and once I did, he immediately cleaned off my fingers with his handkerchief." Luke shrugged helplessly, a sad smile on his face, "So I turned his words against him. Said that if he could carry a dirty handkerchief, then I could take along a dirty jar. And he just looked at me. 'That is true.' he said to me and he sounded so wrong when he said it." Luke shuddered, the memory still sending chills up his back. "He picked up the jar and gave it to me and didn't speak to me at all for a whole hour. I felt so horrible, like I had betrayed him in some way." he whispered, "I cleaned up the jar and boiled it to make it as new as possible, bought a cork to fit into it and showed it to the Pro- I mean, my mentor. He took it in his hand and looked at it, then hugged me. I couldn't understand why."
"Maybe he was sorry he said something mean? And he thought the clean jar meant that you were sorry you said something mean, too?" Hershel suggested carefully, picking up his top hat and putting it back on, "Maybe he wanted you to not do anything that could make you sick or get hurt, but when you said those things to each other, you hurt yourselves worse than the jar and handkerchief could do." Luke managed a grin at that.
"I suppose you're right." he remarked and placed a hand on his shoulder, "And what happened just now, reminded me of that pain. I'm sorry. For yelling at you like that, I mean." He put the jar away and sighed, giving Hershel a fresh stern gaze. "Now, what did you see in my bag?" he asked firmly. What did Hershel expose himself to that could alter his future? The boy fidgeted.
"Just some papers that I couldn't read and a puzzle book and the jar." he replied and brightened at the mention of the book, "There were lots of puzzles in the book! Do you like puzzles, Sir Luke?" Luke smiled warmly, touching fingers to the bag.
"I love puzzles. They remind me of my mentor; every time I do one, it feels like he's still standing by me, encouraging me to solve them, to push myself further." he replied and sighed, "But lately, I've started losing my touch. Without his voice, his very presence, it feels like I'm grasping at a fading memory." He reached out to the air, fingers trailing as though trying to catch something invisible to the naked eye, "Grasping for a ghost of a man who has left this world. And I feel a part of me die each time I find a puzzle harder and harder to solve." Luke sighed again and brought his hand back, shaking his head. "But, I'm working on fixing that. I'm going to find a way to stop that before it starts." he remarked cheerfully, "I won't rest until I succeed!" Hershel threw up his hands and cheered. "Would you like to hear the puzzle of the jar? It's time for us to go get a bite to eat and a puzzle will stir up an appetite." Luke added, standing up and holding out his hand for Hershel to grab on.
"Yes, please, Sir Luke!" the boy exclaimed, grabbing on and tagging along as they walked to Olivia.
"Thank you again, for everything." Luke told her, bowing before her, "Do you mind if I ask how long the repairs might take?" The curator smiled warmly back at him.
"They should take a week at the most, provided nothing pulls my grandfather's attention away from your watch." she replied and laid a hand on the lapel of his jacket, "For what it's worth, I'm sure your mentor would be proud to know you're doing all you can to prevent tragedy and for carrying on in his name. Return at the end of the week; we'll have news of the repairs then." Luke thanked her once more and walked Hershel out of the museum.
"Now, for that puzzle." he remarked to the boy with a grin, "There is a jar with a germ inside of it. Every minute, it divides. In one hour, the jar is filled with germs. If you have that same jar, and you start with two germs, how long will it take in minutes to fill the jar with germs?" Hershel took on the pensive expression again, going quiet as the two of them made their way to a local restaurant.
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Paradox Lost
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hershel settled himself comfortably on a bench, clutching the bag in his arms and grinning to himself. There must be a lot of interesting things inside it; why else would Sir Luke go through so much trouble to keep it safe and at his side always? A tiny voice in his head reprimanded him, telling him it wasn't a very gentlemanly thing to do to be poking in the private things of other people, but his curiosity was piqued and there wasn't much around to deter him from looking inside the bag.
The smile faded. Except for a punishment. If Sir Luke found out he was going through his bag, Hershel was more than sure he'd be punished severely for it. Oh, what horror would befall him? A switch? He shuddered, wincing in phantom pain. An open hand? He cringed at the thought of it. Or maybe... oh the horror of horrors! A belt! What if he used a belt?!
Wait. Did Sir Luke even have one?
Hershel thought it over, reaching back into his memory to discern whether or not he had such a thing. The majority of the previous night was a flurry of panic and squealing maids, his mother issuing out commands like one of those generals he read about in the papers. And then there was the deadly quiet that surrounded them all when one of the maids hurried up to his mother and whispered something into her ear. She looked startled and Hershel had gotten very worried; his mother never made a face like that. Nothing surprised her; it was impossible to keep secrets from her. She had rushed into the room where the maids had carried Sir Luke's body and he followed quietly, peeking in to see what was going on. His mother was holding something shiny at the table and Sir Luke was lying in bed fast asleep, most of his clothes already removed for changing. Ah-hah! Now Hershel remembered! He did have a belt of sorts, two of them, but they didn't go around his waist. They went over his shoulders, like the bag he carried.
Oh, was he going to get it once Sir Luke returned.... Hershel sighed, fidgeting for a moment, then took a deep breath and smiled again. Well, if he was going to get a whipping, then it might as well be worth it! He flicked open the clasp to the satchel and opened it, peering inside. There were lots of papers at first and Hershel picked through a few of them out of curiosity. Too many big words; he frowned at the writing in frustration. His vocabulary was a lot more substantial compared to most other boys his age, but even these words were beyond him. He set the papers aside and went on digging. There was a book on puzzles and Hershel opened it up, eyes going wide at all the different picture puzzles, word puzzles, math puzzles... all kinds! He didn't know Sir Luke liked puzzles; his mother had an affinity for them, too. What was it she liked to say that confounded his father so much? 'Every puzzle has an answer. You must use your wits and knowledge to find that answer. Then no puzzle can stop you from achieving your dreams.'
"Every puzzle has an answer." Hershel echoed and the taste of the words felt right. He hugged the book, then set it aside with more care than he did the papers. Another check of the bag and he pulled out a newspaper clipping, blinking as he read through it. Some of the words had been marked out and the picture had been torn to pieces, but he could make out the phrase 'Professor Hershel Layton laid to rest' and the rest was obscured by ink. The article must have been about his grandfather, Hershel Layton, Sr., who died when Hershel was five years old. He sniffed at the memory of the funeral, then carefully pocketed the clipping. It might not be in good condition but that was probably because Sir Luke must have been very sad by his grandfather's passing. All of London had been at the time.
Hershel went rooting around in the bag one last time, pulling out a glass jar with a cork stopper that held a small coin inside. He blinked at it, confused, and rattled the jar, listening to the coin hit the sides with small clinks. Was this another kind of puzzle? His face took on a pensive expression and he sat very still and quiet, thinking it over.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Luke walked back into the open rooms of the museum and stopped to lean against the wall, drawing his blue jacket closer around himself. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he could just imagine Professor Layton scolding him about his behavior. Of the few times he'd ever gotten upset or even angry, a good deal of them came from Luke letting his emotions get the better of him and throwing his gentlemanly lessons to the wind. He never struck Luke, but his words would always cut him to the core. 'I'm very disappointed in you, Luke; I had thought I taught you better.' He didn't act as he should have in that room, and those words replayed in his mind.
"I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to, but this mission means so much to me." he whispered pleadingly, covering his face with one hand, "I just want to have you back again. I want you and me and Flora together again, as a family. You two were all I had...." The sounds of footsteps behind him snapped him out of his melancholy and he straightened quickly, rubbing at his eyes to wipe away any tears that may have formed. He turned to see who was coming towards him and blinked in surprise to see Olivia hurry towards him, a worried look on her face and her hand clutched over her heart.
"Sir Luke, are you okay? You didn't seem at all like yourself and just now...!" she exclaimed and Luke offered her a weak smile, reaching out to place a hand over hers in comfort.
"I know. It was very unbecoming of me. I apologize for my behavior towards you and your grandfather. I truly appreciate what you've done for me." he murmured and glanced aside, "The pocket-watch brings up painful memories, and I can't always control myself in the presence of those memories." Olivia pursed her mouth, looking saddened by the confession.
"I'm sorry, too. I didn't realize you had such a traumatic history. May I ask what happened? If I'm not being rude, that is." she whispered tearfully. Luke shook his head, pulling his hand back to run through his hair, settling his cap back in place once done.
"My mentor had been killed and I was left alone for a few years. I'm traveling to prevent a similar tragedy from happening to another boy I know." he worded carefully, "I can't say much more than that as I'm also investigating to see who might have caused that death." He managed a small smile. "That's why your grandfather repairing my pocket-watch is so important. It will help me in the investigation." he added and gestured towards the rest of the museum, "That's why I want to donate to this museum. All the money I possess I would gladly trade for the chance to save a life." Olivia smiled back through her tears.
"You truly are a gentleman at heart, Sir Luke." she told him, "Hershel will learn much from you." Luke managed a chuckle at the idea.
"Yes, but I have the feeling he will far surpass me one day. Right, Hershel?" he remarked and turned to look for the small boy, but he wasn't in the immediate area. Luke scanned the room again, quickly, and felt his breath catch. Where was he? And where was his bag?! "Hershel? Hershel?!" he called out again, louder and more panicked, running out with the curator following him quickly.
They searched the museum, room by room, and dread filled Luke from head to toe, filling his mind with all sorts of grim images and possibilities. He'd been followed through time by the murderer and they found Hershel, a random pedophile took a liking to him and kidnapped the boy, he wandered outside and was struck down by a passing carriage or motorcar... thousands of scenarios flashed through his mind and he grew more and more panicked with each second Hershel wasn't found.
"Hershel!" he cried, voice rising to near hysterical ranges as he tore through the rooms, eyes wide and frantic, "Hershel Layton, answer me! Where are you?!" Olivia rushed in after him, unnoticed by the young man as he scanned the area for the boy in the familiar brown top hat and cloak, finally spotting him slumped on a bench and surrounded by papers and his open bag. Luke stood frozen in place, face turning ashen at the sight of the little figure. Not again, not again...!
He found him slumped against the bookshelf in his office, surrounded by papers and books scattered on the floor. Luke's first thought was that the Professor had simply fallen asleep there, sitting on the floor after solving a difficult puzzle. But as he drew closer and called to him, he noticed spatterings of red on those papers and books, and then on the Professor's clothes. His eyes followed the trail in horror, drawing a scream from his mouth when he saw the stain that completely covered Professor Layton's orange shirt.
The scene played through again, overlapping what he saw before him as Luke slowly walked forward, hand reaching out to collect the jar and set it aside. He bit his lip fearfully, then set his fingertips against the boy's neck; warm and there was a pulse. Olivia stayed behind, watching with a puzzled look before understanding what happened and gazing more warmly at the scene. Hershel squirmed slightly under the sudden contact, knocking his hat off his head as he blinked sleepily up at his mentor.
"Sir Luke? When-? What-?" he asked in confusion, looking around himself as the young man choked back a sob, gripping his shoulders tightly with both hands.
"Why didn't you stay in the main hall? Do you have any idea what I went through just now? You're not supposed to wander off; what if you'd gotten hurt or worse?" Luke growled softly, hiding his face in the shadows of his cap again. Hershel squeaked at the tightening grip on his shoulders, struggling to get loose, and the young man finally loosened his hold, pulling back to check him more thoroughly for any injury. "Hershel, don't ever do that to me again!" he shouted, startling the boy further, and finally took in the sight of the papers and jar, his eyes narrowing as his mouth closed shut, lips pressed into a thin line. "You went into my bag." Luke murmured tonelessly. Hershel swallowed hard, shaking fearfully.
"I'm sorry, Sir Luke! I was just curious!" he stammered and flinched, drawing back and expecting a smack when Luke moved. But instead of doing anything to him, the blue-clad teen simply began gathering the papers and books, packing them away in the satchel. Hershel blinked and sat there in silence, watching with a confused look as Luke finished cleaning up, slung the satchel back over his shoulder and picked up the small jar, gazing into it as he sat down beside him. "Sir Luke?" Hershel called softly, brokenly, "Are you... angry? With me?" Luke remained quiet, simply looking into the jar and tracing his finger along the surface of the glass.
"This jar...." he finally said, just as Hershel was getting ready to break into tears of guilt and shame, "I found this jar long ago. It reminded my mentor of a puzzle and he set me to working on it. After I solved it, I asked if I could take the jar. It had been left on the ground, thrown away. Surely he wouldn't object to it, right?" He laughed hollowly and shook his head. "He said no. And he was quite adamant about it. It was a filthy jar, he told me, covered in germs. What if I got sick from handling it? Yet he asked me to pull a scrap of painting from inside it, and once I did, he immediately cleaned off my fingers with his handkerchief." Luke shrugged helplessly, a sad smile on his face, "So I turned his words against him. Said that if he could carry a dirty handkerchief, then I could take along a dirty jar. And he just looked at me. 'That is true.' he said to me and he sounded so wrong when he said it." Luke shuddered, the memory still sending chills up his back. "He picked up the jar and gave it to me and didn't speak to me at all for a whole hour. I felt so horrible, like I had betrayed him in some way." he whispered, "I cleaned up the jar and boiled it to make it as new as possible, bought a cork to fit into it and showed it to the Pro- I mean, my mentor. He took it in his hand and looked at it, then hugged me. I couldn't understand why."
"Maybe he was sorry he said something mean? And he thought the clean jar meant that you were sorry you said something mean, too?" Hershel suggested carefully, picking up his top hat and putting it back on, "Maybe he wanted you to not do anything that could make you sick or get hurt, but when you said those things to each other, you hurt yourselves worse than the jar and handkerchief could do." Luke managed a grin at that.
"I suppose you're right." he remarked and placed a hand on his shoulder, "And what happened just now, reminded me of that pain. I'm sorry. For yelling at you like that, I mean." He put the jar away and sighed, giving Hershel a fresh stern gaze. "Now, what did you see in my bag?" he asked firmly. What did Hershel expose himself to that could alter his future? The boy fidgeted.
"Just some papers that I couldn't read and a puzzle book and the jar." he replied and brightened at the mention of the book, "There were lots of puzzles in the book! Do you like puzzles, Sir Luke?" Luke smiled warmly, touching fingers to the bag.
"I love puzzles. They remind me of my mentor; every time I do one, it feels like he's still standing by me, encouraging me to solve them, to push myself further." he replied and sighed, "But lately, I've started losing my touch. Without his voice, his very presence, it feels like I'm grasping at a fading memory." He reached out to the air, fingers trailing as though trying to catch something invisible to the naked eye, "Grasping for a ghost of a man who has left this world. And I feel a part of me die each time I find a puzzle harder and harder to solve." Luke sighed again and brought his hand back, shaking his head. "But, I'm working on fixing that. I'm going to find a way to stop that before it starts." he remarked cheerfully, "I won't rest until I succeed!" Hershel threw up his hands and cheered. "Would you like to hear the puzzle of the jar? It's time for us to go get a bite to eat and a puzzle will stir up an appetite." Luke added, standing up and holding out his hand for Hershel to grab on.
"Yes, please, Sir Luke!" the boy exclaimed, grabbing on and tagging along as they walked to Olivia.
"Thank you again, for everything." Luke told her, bowing before her, "Do you mind if I ask how long the repairs might take?" The curator smiled warmly back at him.
"They should take a week at the most, provided nothing pulls my grandfather's attention away from your watch." she replied and laid a hand on the lapel of his jacket, "For what it's worth, I'm sure your mentor would be proud to know you're doing all you can to prevent tragedy and for carrying on in his name. Return at the end of the week; we'll have news of the repairs then." Luke thanked her once more and walked Hershel out of the museum.
"Now, for that puzzle." he remarked to the boy with a grin, "There is a jar with a germ inside of it. Every minute, it divides. In one hour, the jar is filled with germs. If you have that same jar, and you start with two germs, how long will it take in minutes to fill the jar with germs?" Hershel took on the pensive expression again, going quiet as the two of them made their way to a local restaurant.