For Dorian, and anyone else who wants to visit

[singulartragedy]

Adrian sits down by the lake. His jacket is tossed on the ground a ways away, and his trouser legs are rolled up -- he's been wading in the water, and has now sat down with his little leatherbound book to write

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[doctor_pascal]

He might notice a carriage led by a lone man, the heavy horse doing the task easily. The driver is not peasant looking, rather perhaps with the appearance of an unkempt gentleman farmer.

As he passes, he nods Adrian's way, politely.

[singulartragedy]

"Good day, sir," Adrian says, and makes a short bow. He has a gentleman's manners still, though not his station, and perhaps they've even improved since the scandal. He never would have bowed to a farmer before.

[doctor_pascal]

Pascal stops the carriage, returns the bow. It’s curt but not awkward. “Likewise, sir.”

He has an accent, resolutely from the south of France - but also resolutely educated. This is not a farmer, obviously.

“Pleasant weather, n’est-ce-pas?”

[singulartragedy]

Adrian raises his eyebrows, not meaning to be rude (he'd rather anything than be rude) but surprised at Pascal's educated voice. "So it is," he says. "You are French, I take it?"

[doctor_pascal]

Pascal being naturally distracted, he doesn’t quite notice.

“I am,” he says, smiling. “You are English, I suppose?”

He’s not reacting or caring one way or the other - though he follows politics, he’s not really into it.

[singulartragedy]

"Yes. I've traveled some, in your country -- I'm atrocious with the language, I'm afraid, but it's a lovely place."

[doctor_pascal]

"On behalf of my country then, Merci!" He bows, curt and professional. "Would it be indiscreet to ask whereabouts you traveled?"

[singulartragedy]

"I spent most of my time in Paris. I should have liked to see the countryside as well, but was rather at the mercy of a friend."

[doctor_pascal]

"Hazards of your affections, I suppose." He grins. "I am from Plassans, near Aix-en-Provence."

[singulartragedy]

He colors a little at the word "affections." Pascal may not realize it, but he's right on the mark -- Adrian's affections have proven hazardous indeed.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the area. What sort of place is it?"

[doctor_pascal]

Pascal's good like that. He's been observing the human nature a good deal.

"Southern, warm and lazy," he says, smiling. "Though its country side could resemble this, in the summer."

[singulartragedy]

"Must be lovely, then," says Adrian. He's grown very fond of the Mansion and its surroundings, as strange as they are.

[doctor_pascal]

He inclines his head thankfully. "It is a lovely country here as well. Are you local then?"

[singulartragedy]

"These days I suppose I am. Londoner by birth, but I've spent the last few years here." He opts not to mention that he can't go home, that there's no home to go back to anymore.

[doctor_pascal]

Years. His shoulders slump. He has been warned, by Spade, but still...

"They say there is no way out."

[singulartragedy]

"It really depends. I haven't been back home, since I've little reason to, but I know some others who have. -- Are you new here?"