[Ah, Palamedes thinks, and here is where it becomes inexorably clear that either, A) he has never understood Ninth humor, and he never will; or B) he and Ortus Nigenad could not be two more different people if one of them were actually a dog or something.
So it's one of those two. He's going to relish figuring it out, but first, he holds up a finger and then turns to the inside pockets of his gray cloak, rummaging for a bit before he produces a new and pristine piece of chalk, a tightly folded piece of paper, and a pen. The chalk, he offers.
It's for the bit. Take of his chalk and so bond the Ninth to Sixth, et cetera.]
A humble donation. Brace a crack in the door with it. [A beat.] You're not living in the house?
no subject
So it's one of those two. He's going to relish figuring it out, but first, he holds up a finger and then turns to the inside pockets of his gray cloak, rummaging for a bit before he produces a new and pristine piece of chalk, a tightly folded piece of paper, and a pen. The chalk, he offers.
It's for the bit. Take of his chalk and so bond the Ninth to Sixth, et cetera.]
A humble donation. Brace a crack in the door with it. [A beat.] You're not living in the house?