[LOG] Dr. Dare and the Duchess in... The Tunnels of Terror!
It is a beautiful Begman afternoon, with the smog well below lethal levels and the rain nowhere in sight. The docks are crowded as the usually are when the Optimist puts into port, full of people waiting for news from Amber, or returning relatives, or the trade that makes Begma and Amber so friendly with one another. It is by sheer coincidence, or perhaps an overabundance of Dramatic Timing, that Addison and Lucretia find themselves nearly colliding on the gangway.
Addison almost oofs. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and says, "Oh, I say! Excuse me! I did not mean -- Lucretia?" He peers closer. "What are you doing here?"
Lucretia is looking brisk, cheerful, and distinctly corseted - or, rather, as if she's gone ahead and notched her corset in one key tighter. It's still not so tight as to interfere with functioning, anyway. "Why, Addison! Fancy running into you here." She practically bubbles with good cheer. "What? Can't a girl be in Begma without it meaning something awful? As it happens, I had a letter."
"A letter?" Addison asks as people push around him to get down the gangway. "What sort of letter? A particularly Begman letter?"
Lucretia sidesteps a particular mass of seething humanity, then turns to open her reticule, moving down the gangplank a bit as she does so. "A University of Begma-ish letter. Apparently I'm famous. And, well, my vanity's been a bit underfed and wan, lately, so it cheered me up no end. Here, have a look for yourself."
There is indeed a very human pressure, urging them down the gangplank and into the crowd below.
Addison follows Lucretia down the gangway and he peers at a letter that is, without a doubt, stamped with the seal of the University of Begma. "Wot, becoming Duchess of a cornerstone of the universe is not enough for your vanity? Let me see it." He takes the letter from her and reads through it quickly.
Dr. Lucretia Mandrake
c/o Amber Palace
Amber City
Amber
Dr. Mandrake -
It is with great Pleasure and no small Honor that I write to you to-day. Word of your Innovative Research has reached us here, and we would like to Invite you to a Colloquium to Present your Finidings, and accept an Honorary Doctorate Degree from our College. Enclosed please find details on the Event, and please once again accept our Thanks and Respect for your dedication to the Science of Health.
Dr. W.E. Scarriton-Smythe,
Assistant Dean of Medicine
Walpole-Watson School of Medicine
University of Begma
Begma City
Begma
Lucretia points out, "It's not nearly so much of an honour when you become it sheerly through lack of anyone else competent who's willing to do the job. Everything's been all business now, you realize; it's all 'nothing personal'. And, well, I'm a very personal sort of girl." She does her best to keep pace with Addison without letting people push between them. "And it is nice to be recognized for my mind - what about you, what are YOU doing here?"
"Oh!" Addison says as he reads over the letter. "Oh my. Oh! Well, this is quite nice, isn't it? They're giving you a degree. Quite pleasant." He hands the letter back to Lucretia. "I am presenting my findings from the research on the origins on Kitezh to the Collegium at St. Eggies, to the Historical and Archeological Department. I am hoping that it will be published in the journal."
There in the mass of humanity is a woman bundled into tweed. Settling into age, she could have been a beauty in her youth, but her cheeks sag, her eyes sink behind spectacles, and she has become somewhat stout. Her hair is still blond, and done up into a bun, but grey roots are visible. She is holding a sign saying MANDRAKE.
Lucretia tucks the letter securely away in her reticule as her gown's neckline isn't low enough for the use of cleavage for easy stowage. "Oh, lovely. Then you can go with me and show me how to get there so I don't get lost. My first time in Be-" She cuts off. "Looks like they thought of that. Here, come be my social interpreter and make sure I don't say anything too outlandishly wrong." She seems amused by the possibility.
Addison shrugs a bit and says, "I have not been here since last Yule, you know. It is a damn shame I do not get to Begma enough these days." He gamely follows along, because that is what he does.
The woman is looking around, searching each face without recognition...including Lucretia's.
Lucretia walks up to the woman in question and says brightly, "Pardon me. Are you waiting for Lucretia Bianca de'Mandrake, by any chance? Or are you hoping for a different Mandrake?"
Addison simply follows along and loiters. He is good at the following and loitering part.
The woman beams brightly, and lowers her card. "I would indeed! Would it be proper to say, then, that you are she?"
Lucretia agrees cheerfully, "I am. Please, call me Lucy. May I ask who I have the honour of speaking with? And have you met the gentleman who's been helping make sure I don't get lost thus far?"
Addison smiles and waves Addisonly.
The woman extends her hand. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Mandrake! I am Winifred Scarriton-Smythe, I was the one who wrote to you. So /glad/ that you could join us!" She looks at Addison, and nods. "And to you, sir, a pleasure to meet you."
Addison offers his hand and says, "Dr. Addison Dare, of the Begma City Dares."
Winifred blinks, and takes Addison's hand as soon as hers has done its duty with Lucretia. "Dr. Dare! How remarkable! I had your cousin Garrison as a laboratory assistant several years back."
"Oh really?" Addison says, his hand being shaked and then done being shaked. "Oh yes. Garrison! Bully for him. Excellent. We are everywhere, though. Dare is a rather large family."
Lucretia beams at Winifred. "How do you do, doctor? We seem to be a plethora of doctors." She is in high spirits, even without having had any Begman coffee to propel her. "I must say it is a very great pleasure to be here. Addison and I have worked together on occasion on interdisciplinary studies, so it's lovely to be here in such good company."
Winifred says, "Oh quite, quite. And so terribly talented as well." She turns back to Lucretia, nodding. "Of course. He is welcome to join us all tonight, of course. We did not know if you would be travelling alone or not, so we made provisions for a guest. You'll be staying at the Excelsior, of course - a guest of the University."
Addison's eyebrows go up and says, "My. The Excelsior. That is posh. If Dr. Mandrake is game, I am perfectly happy to be 'and guest' for the weekend."
Lucretia looks cheerful still, and blank, perhaps relieved for Addison's subtle filling in. "I should profess myself most delighted! It's always nice to have friendly faces about. I hope to enlist Doctor Dare's aid in procuring a rare specimen for medical dissection sometime soon, in fact!"
Winifred says, "Brilliant! Come along, then, we have a car waiting to take you to the hotel, before tonight. I am /certain/ you'll wish to rest and refresh yourselves."
Addison does point out: "I do have a paper to present at St. Eggies, so I will have to swing by and take care of that. They are rather keen to see if Basil Dare's son can do a damn bit of independent research. Hard to live up to my father, especially here in Begma." Then he gets a look on his face that is Oooh! Car!
Winifred says, "Of course! We'll even have a few of their faculty in attendance tonight. Strictly as a courtesy, of course."
Lucretia nods, clearly content to fall into line with this plan. "Yes, quite. The ferry was not uncomfortable, but travel always takes its toll, after all. And yes, of course, Addison - if the timing permits, perhaps I'll be able to sneak into the gallery to listen? If there is a gallery, after all."
Addison says, "I am rather keen on all these plans." He flashes Lucretia a big smile.
Winifred leads the way to a long, open-topped carriage, with a massive steam boiler at the back and a man in the front wearing a heavy leather coat and goggles. She ushers everyone in, and the car rattles and hisses down the streets of Begma. Really quite remarkable, though people on the street give it a sensibly wide berth. Conversation, over the noise of the engine, is difficult.
Addison looks unbelievably pleased to be not only back in his Begma City where Civilization Works and People have Government that is Not Silly and people wear Proper Trousers, but he is in an actual motorized coach! And motorized coaches are the best coaches there are!
Lucretia does not really try to maintain conversation, content to take in her surroundings and observe. She does seem pleased to be here, though not quite to the level Addison is; she has her usual level of 'hello, world, here I am, all you lovely people!' firmly in place.
Addison grabs Lucretia's arm and points out things he clearly feels are landmarks -- some pub, a clock tower, a building with interesting awning, a square -- but it is impossible to hear what he says over the din of the car.
The car comes to a halt in front of the Excelsior Hotel; a gaudy, gilt, rococo affair that screams Posh in the language of Begman architecture. Winifred gives an eager smile. "Watkins will be back in two hours to bring you to the University. I hope you'll find everything to your liking."
Lucretia looks tremendously pleased. Ooh, posh. If there is one language Lucy definitely speaks, it's the language of Luxury. "I will absolutely be ready by then, and I'm sure I will, Doctor. I'll look forward to it! Addison, when are you due?"
"Not until tomorrow," Addison says as he clambers out of the car and on to the sidewalk. "I scheduled in an extra day to simply be back in Begma. I am free to accompany you as your And Guest."
The lobby of the hotel is plushly carpeted, and there is mechanical lift and uniformed porters to see to their luggage. The room is likewise richly appointed, with an enormous copper tub, running hot water, and a gramophone with an excellent selection of music. There is a small problem, though. There's only one bed, large as it might be.
Addison stares at the one bed for a few minutes, the machinery in his head whirring. Then he looks around to see if this suite also has, perhaps, a couch.
The suite has a couch. It is well stuffed and upholstered in red velvet.
Addison thinks about the fate of his back, and suspect the fate of his back is not going to be a good one.
Lucretia's luggage is not /too/ immense; only two trunks, considering the size and type of gowns in Begma. She tips the porters reasonably but not ridiculously (by her standards, at least), and then turns to have a look. "Oh, this IS nice." She fails at first to notice the obvious.
"It is the Excelsior," Addison says as he follows Lucretia through the suite. "It is quite posh. Perfect for a visiting Duchess about to receive an honorary degree."
Lucretia laughs. "Well, as long as I've earned the degree through something other than being a Duchess. Though you know, I'm not quite officially Duchess yet. Technically, I suppose I am - but I'm not, at the same time." She looks at the bed, then looks at Addison speculatively.
"We have a bit of an issue," Addison says lamely.
Lucretia inquires, "Why? Do you snore?"
Addison says, turning a bit pink, "No? Not that I know about?"
Lucretia smiles. "I -can- keep my hands to myself, Addison. You're cute and all, but you're someone else's husband, and I don't poach. If it helps, just put your sword down the middle - remember, you're Brand's knight. Isn't it customary for a knight to protect his lord's lady, including guarding her bed in that way?"
Addison eyes Lucretia in that Addison eying sort of way. Then he gives in, rather quickly, because he does not want to sleep on the couch. "I am, technically, a Knight, yes. And you are my Patron Lord's Lady. So it is my duty bound by honor and God to protect you from harm."
Lucretia's lips twitch. "At least until Brand changes his mind about me, anyway. Anyway, it's a big enough bed. And /I/ don't snore. And I did pack nighties, since I don't sleep in the nude in strange places. I don't sleep in the nude very often anyway; too many things happen at night. But I -will- insist on claiming first privilege of the bath - I'm going to go freshen up. Why don't you order up something to snack on? I don't know about you, but I'm starved." She turns away quickly, as if dismissing a memory.
Addison stands there looking a little stunned for a moment. He opens his mouth. He closes his mouth. He says "Er..." Then, heaving a sigh, he goes about doing what he always does, which is generally what he's told when someone female and in command gives him an order. He orders up some room service of nice little finger sandwiches and a pot of tea.
Time passes. Lucretia gets to enjoy a Begman bathtub, with knobs that control jets of hot water and little bubble soap dispensers. Addison gets to enjoy a proper cuppa. When they are refreshed, they can meet Wilkins at the front of the hotel, and enjoy another rickety steam car ride to the University. Eventually, they are seated near the head of an exceedingly long table within the Banquet Hall of the Walpole-Watson School of Medicine, in the depths of a Faculty Dinner. There are conversations over scientific minutiae that have the undertone of a thousand repetitions, and some arguments that seem just short of coming to blows. There is wine, and there is food.
Addison avails himself of the wine and the food because, frankly, he has nothing else to contribute except to say, occasionally, "No, I am not Dr. Lucretia Bianca de'Mandrake's husband. I am simply a friend," over and over again to half-interested parties.
Lucretia is beamingly happy to be here, and tells everyone so who will listen who expresses even the slightest interest. She does the same on the topic of any scientific topics which come up, with the grace and aplomb of someone accustomed to defending her theses at full speed while wielding a rapier. "Hm, Doctor Dare? He is a professional colleague and friend, but nothing more. He happened to be in Begma for his own work, and he does, after all, know Begma so much better than I."
No matter how interesting the initial conversations, the fact that the attendants are bound to their seats and arranged by precendence rather than any real proper sense of social balance means that after the second or third hour, things are somewhat dragging. Debates that were once intellectually stimulating have become gratingly nitpicky. The food keeps coming well past the point of satiety, and the constant flow of wine has made some of the more belligerent faculty downright boorish. There have been speeches of varying quality, but it begins to become obvious that something is not right. Dr. Scarriton-Smythe leans over to Lucretia. "I am so terribly sorry, Dr. Mandrake. Professor Fotheringay was supposed to introduce you, but he still has yet to arrive."
Addison cannot eat any more. He cannot drink any more. He cannot hear any more of this pointless bickering over things he does not understand. He closes his eyes and wishes that he was standing humiliated in Corwin's Throne Room, because really, it would be more pleasant than this and afterward he could go have a nice lie down.
Lucretia looks curiously to Doctor Scarriton-Smythe, then nods, lips pursed. "Is there an acceptable substitute who would be able to do so, or should we mount a search party? I don't, of course, quite know how things are done here, but I shouldn't want it to turn ugly. If need be, I could attempt to introduce myself, but that does seem a bit rude."
Winifred says, "Well, he was so looking forward to it. He specializes in animals as well, you see, and has been following your beetles quite closely." She looks around the hall for a moment. "Perhaps we can go check on him; he may be indisposed."
Addison picks up on this immediately and tosses down his napkin. "Oh, let's! I must accompany Dr. Mandrake, I'm afraid. It's quite important."
Lucretia smiles, seeming particularly amused by Addison's haste for some reason. "By all means. Though as a suggestion - if there's an orchestra or the like, you might just invite them in as an interlude to the food and drink before people begin to wander off or get quarrelsome. Er. Moreso." She unhurriedly rises to her feet.
Addison rises to his feet in considerably more of a hurry. A bit like he is looking to flee.
Winifred waves that away. "They're always like this. Professor Fotheringay should have been here before any fights started, though." She rises from her seat, and moves out of the Hall.
Lucretia looks less like she is fleeing, but she follows readily enough. "I'm quite curious about the Professor, really. I had no idea word of my research had traveled so far."
Winifred says, "Oh, we follow things quite closely since Amber lent its aid against the Black Road here. And you do so much in such a limited world. Ah. Here we are."
Winifred knocks on an unwindowed office door. "Horace? Horace, are you there?"
Addison follows along, as he is wont, well aware that his shiny silver sword is in letter-opener form deep in his satchel. Along with his possessed, evil pen.
Lucretia listens, but does not try to push ahead. "I do hope he's all right," she remarks. "After all - it was quite kind of him to take an interest."
Winifred frowns, and knocks again, harder. "Horace?" There is a faint note of more than collegial concern in her voice.
Addison reaches into his satchel and pulls out his silver letter opener.
Lucretia absently lifts a hand to the frippery atop her head, patting it lightly.
Winifred starts fumbling for a ring of keys at her belt. "He doesn't sleep deeply," she says, "Something's wrong."
Lucretia suggests, "Well, we are all doctors; and I am a medical doctor, if it helps, in the tradition of my family."
Addison simply stands there in a sort of putting himself between Lucretia and face eating horrors sort of way.
Winifred finds the key and unlocks the door. As it swings open, she faints dead away.
Lucretia is now very curious. So of course she tries to look through the open doorway to see what could POSSIBLY do such.
The office has become an abbatoir. Blood splashes high on the walls, and soaks the carpet until it is black. Chunks of meat scattered about may once have been Professor Horace Fotheringay. The head, wide-eyed, wide-mouthed and half-shattered most definitely was, as it sits like a gruesome paperweight on the desk.
"Ah," Addison says as the rapier unfolds in his hand and he moves to catch, or at least lower, Winifred, "It's just like Amber."
Lucretia's eyebrows crawl upwards. "Dreadfully unsanitary," she says judiciously. "Also? Ew. Er. Addison, I've never thought to ask before, and this might possibly not be the best time, but - oh, is it? Good. Then I feel better prepared."
---
Addison lowers Winifred to the carpeting as carefully as he can and instantly flips on the Death-o-Matic Death Maker vision and walks into the room full of dismembered body parts. The carpet under his feet is squelchy. Everything drips. Good thing he has no fondness for this suit whatsoever.
Lucretia lets Winifred bounce, mainly due to being fascinated and diverted by the carnage. Her hand goes atop her head and she pulls from her hair a rather long, sharp-looking dagger. The hat flutters away frippily. The hair stays up. She moves to follow Addison inside, but hovers at the doorway. This dress is new, after all.
Lucretia looks through the room with her Life sense, in contrast to Addison. After all, if someone else is there, it's probably whoever removed the good professor's head.
Winifred groans softly, outside the office. Inside, Addison has a sword in hand and the liquid contents of Professor Fotheringay on his shoes. Lucretia hovers at the doorway. Strong stomachs are required. The eyes of Death show that the poor dismembered Professor is, in fact dead. The eyes of Life show no other living being in the room - a room which Dr. Scarriton-Smythe had to unlock.
"No souls here," Addison says as he squelches through the puddles of goo. "The good Professor pragmatically decided not to hang about after being dismembered. You think someone was upset with the seating arrangements at the dinner?"
Lucretia mms. "Looks a bit extreme, even for how argumentative that lot were being." She looks around, then looks at Winifred thoughtfully, taking a certain time about making quite sure the woman is making no sudden moves. "Lovers' quarrel?"
Winifred stirs, half-conscious. Even fully awake, though, it doesn't look like she's physically capable of creating the scene in the office.
"This is not Montevalno," Addison says as he starts looking for anything that might be interesting. Notes. Threats. Papers sitting on desks. Maybe hidden panels in the desk. That may be a first good place to look. "This is Begma. Quarrels involve sending very polite notes. We have a murder rate, but not much at the University. It is academic sniping, not decapitation and spreading one about the curtains."
Lucretia nods thoughtfully, then moves to politely drag Winifred out of direct line of sight of the door. "Then who were his primary academic rivals, becomes the next question - although the lady doctor here did say he worked with animals as well as people. And he had an interest in my beetles, which suggests... well, you can see what it suggests."
"Someone wants your beetle research," Addison says as he begins to search the desk, even though it has a head on it and is utterly covered in gore. He does not seem to flinch in the least. A body without a soul is just meat to him. "Look for anything obviously rifled... ah." He turns toward an open cabinet and rifles through that. He pulls out an interesting file and says, "Lucretia. Look here a moment."
Lucretia nods, moving to head in, lifting her skirts genteelly to minimize spatter. "Well, I did tell you, didn't I, that the Road apparently wants me dead or tainted, due to my research. Unless Caine was lying. I don't rule it out. But it did make sense." She offers a hand out for the file. "I think the dear departed wanted my research, likely, in order to fix some problem which came up in his own research. Nothing like a bit of graft in the form of an honourary degree, is there?"
The file is full of news clippings about the dearly departed Doctor from the more liberal newspapers in Begma. They're all about him and his work, and most are extremely negative. It seems there are people in Begma who feel that sticking Galvanic electrodes in brains of monkeys is not Properly Ethical Science. "It may be something a bit more mundane than the Black Road," Addison says.
Lucretia hms and nods, going through the clippings. "Animal activists are always so in the way of scientific advancement. Ah, well. Either that, or he decided to move up from monkeys to apes." She looks at the severed head. "Still, this does look a bit - much. The real question is, how did they get in and out without a key? Or if they had a key - without leaving bloody footprints in the hall?"
Addison begins to search the ceiling and upper parts of the walls for openings to air ducts.
The ceiling is the roof of the building, and there is a skylight. It is broken open, but far too high for someone to jump up to.
Lucretia looks up. "Well, we know how they got /in/." She looks for bookcases which might move - and any voids in the blood spatter.
Addison peers at the skylight. "That is how they got in and out, but exactly how and with what is a bit of a mystery. Maybe better evidence on the roof looking down on the skylight. Or... yes, bookshelves." He moves to help with the bookcases.
Addison stops moving the bookshelf for a moment and gets down on his knees. He looks up at the skylight, and on the carpet. "There are depressions here that are vaguely foot like."
Lucretia pauses, looking down at where Addison is looking, then up at the skylight. "I did -not- bring a grappling hook and rope. This gown is voluminous, but not that voluminous."
Addison stands up again. "Then what do you suggest? I can climb up there."
One person could boost another up, if they were particularly strong. That leaves the second below, though.
Lucretia mms. "Either my petticoats are sacrificed, or, more pragmatically, we rearrange the office. Although before we do so, I want to see if our visitor left any calling card. It is, after all, a particularly brutal and graphic sort of crime; it would be a shame to miss something out of fastidiousness." She turns to bear down on the severed head.
Addison nods to that but he does not bear down on the severed head because Lucretia is getting too much glee and he would hate to rob her of her glee. Instead he searches the room for anything that might be a calling card beneath the cooling, gibbering bits of the nice Professor who likes to stick electrodes into brain cavities.
Lucretia's eyebrows shoot up. "I take it back about the calling card, I think," she remarks absently. "Addison, out of curiosity - as I am unfamiliar with Begma's Rules and Regulations of Natural and Supernatural Science," she has to talk like that, it's a law in and of itself, "please, enlighten me as to what sort of preternatural entities exist here? Also, as to whether there are gorillas, or people who might share qualities in common - or whether vampires are terribly common here."
Addison stands up slowly and looks at Lucretia flatly. "This is Begma. There are no Vampires in Begma. There are no Monsters in Begma. Begma is a land of the rational and the scientific. Once, long ago, this place was a verdant paradise of pointless magic tricks, but that was ended with the Civil War."
Lucretia mms. "The difficulty with civil wars, in my experience, is that unless it is brutally thorough and even sometimes then, there are often little pockets of hold-outs. As for rational and scientific, Addison, while you may say there are no Vampires and no Monsters, I will draw your attention to this." She lifts the head by the hair to keep blood mostly off her gloves, pointing with the hair dagger she still holds. "Observe, if you will, the damage to the vertebrae here, here and here. This man's head was not chopped or sawn off. It was torn off by sheer, massive, brute force." She looks steadily at her colleague and protector. "If it was not a Monster, then ... what was it?"
Addison stares at Lucretia when she just hauls a decapitated head by the hair and does a little scientific forensics explanation for him. Even though he has picked up the Feldane sociopathic outlook toward deinhabited bodies, even this gets a bit of a start out of him. "Hey, put that down, you don't know where that has been! Or worse... you do!" He waves his hands at Lucretia. "Look, how do you know he did not create some horrible monster in a laboratory that decided it had enough of the nice Doctor Wotshisname here and came to mete out a bit of the old one two?"
Lucretia says patiently, "That would be a monster, wouldn't it? In any case, all I am saying is, you cannot rule out the inobvious answers. We can try to eliminate them - but leave them on the table. After all, if WE caught the ferry here - who knows who, or what, else otherwise did?"
Addison peers up at the skylight. "I'll boost you up."
Lucretia sticks the hair dagger back into her hair. "Allez-oop, then."
With much pain and embarrassment, Addison makes with the boosting of Lucretia up to the skylight.
Lucretia is not all -that- hefty, but she is bebosomed and behipped. She moves to attempt to drag herself up to safety.
There is enough of the frame clear of glass for Lucretia to get a safe handhold, and pull herself up to the roof.
Addison tries very very hard not to look up Lucretia's dress, but it is a bit unavoidable. He does most of this with his eyes closed.
Lucretia has petticoats, which may be of help. She does not have bloomers, however, having apparently drawn the line there. Instead, she has frilly unmentionables.
Addison does not mention the unmentionables. Instead he goes with the bookcase plan, and attempts to follow Lucretia up to the roof via the bookcases in the room and some climbing and hoping not to go over into the goo on the carpet.
It is easy enough for Addison to figure out a way to arrange the furniture to provide a way up to the skylight,
Addison scrambles up onto the roof through the skylight after kicking all sorts of books and knick-nacks onto the floor.
The roof of the building is fairly flat, but it is several stories up, and widely spaced from its neighboring buildings. Various vents and chimneys sprout from the roof, spewing smoke and steam.
Lucretia is looking around the rooftop when Addison gets there, having been doing searching in the serene expectation that Addison is competent to get up to follow her. She is looking for traces of Who, What and Where, with a dash of How. "That's a rather substantial leap," she remarks, "for anyone or anything to make. Unless it could fly." She looks up. "Or came from an airship."
Lucretia adds, "An airship which conveniently hovered until murder was finished, then waited and took the murderer away."
Addison frowns and stares at the sky. "You'd think someone would notice an airship. I mean, airships are sort of noticeable in an airship sort of way. Difficult to be crept up on by an airship. They simply aren't sneaky. Not what you would call a conventional get away vehicle."
Lucretia suggests, frowning as well, "Well, then, we have a preternaturally strong homicidal maniac with a hang glider."
Addison stands there for a moment imagining a gorilla broken loose from a lab with dangling wires from his brain cavity probes riding a hang glider. "Riiiiiiiight. Look about. Maybe some other clue is up here." He starts pacing around the roof.
Lucretia looks for ways of climbing down along the side of the building, moving carefully. "Either that, or we've missed something back in the office."
Lucretia stops. "Look for blood. No way whoever did that wasn't dripping with blood when they left."
Addison gets on his knees and says, "Lucretia. Steam vents. This one appears to be missing its grate."
Lucretia moves over to Addison, peering at the vent in question. "Er. Wouldn't it hurt?"
Maintenance ladders. And the steam itself is mostly waste vapor. It'll ruin silk or coiffed hair, but it won't hurt.
Addison looks up at Lucretia. "I don't understand the question. It came from this steam vent." He points down into the steam vent. "I should go first."
Lucretia sighs. "I think I prefer Cibola. At least then a girl can adventure and still look good. All right, you go first. Shout up if you see anything or run into trouble."
Addison gives Lucretia a look. "You are going /second/, are you not?"
Lucretia gives Addison that Look right back. "Of course I am. But if you run into trouble or see something, I'll HURRY about it."
"Right." Addison collapses his sword back into a letter opener for easier transit, and climbs down the ladder into the steam vent.
Lucretia hovers at the top, waiting a few minutes to see if Addison let's out a shriek or in any way finds anything to indicate Not A Dead End. It's a nice dress! "Any signs of blood?" she calls down.
---
Addison climbs down and down and down and down and down several stories until he finally reaches the bottom and slides to reach the bottom. He cups his hands around his mouth and yells: "ONLY LOADS OF BLOOD AND FOOTPRINTS! You might want to come down here!" He is aware of the stories of the steam tunnels. They run everywhere and carry things other than steam. Rats. Trolls. Post-Docs.
Lucretia mounts the ladder with a sigh, after briefly but strongly considering leaving her gown behind. "Coming, dear," she calls tartly. She uses a modified fireman's slide to join him without dropping on top of him.
Addison is already looking at the blood, the footprints, the handprints and the drips. "At least whoever did this left a nice trail."
The steam tunnels are dimly lit with galvanic lights, rather than the oxygen-stealing gaslamps more common in Begma. There is a drip of condensation, and the hum and rattle of pipes carrying steam, water, and other things to various places around the campus. Smeared by motion and humidity, the bloody footprints lead away.
Lucretia mms. "Well, it'd be hard for them to do otherwise, but before we go haring after them, I'm going to check just one thing." She bends to examine with a very close scrutiny.
Addison stands back and waits a moment for Lucretia to do something doctor-y.
Lucretia hms. "Well, I don't see any sign of my suspicions, so ... we'll proceed for now." She straightens up.
Addison flicks his letter opener and the sword reopens with a hiss and a click. "Right. I suggest down the tunnel with all the handprints, footprints, and blood. Just at a guess." He starts heading in that general direction.
Lucretia makes a face at Addison's back, though she does move to follow him. "Look. Which one of us is the one who used to be evil?"
The tunnel stretches on, mathematically straight. There is a rumble and a hiss, as something solid goes shooting through one of the larger pipes.
Addison asks, with a bit of trepidation, "Is this a trick question?"
"All I'm saying is, if you have a formerly evil adventuress on your side, you shouldn't make sarcastic remarks when she attempts to gauge the level of evil of our opponent. Not even just because I might forget and decide I'm still evil." Lucretia's head turns sharply, expression alert. "Is that normal, or did evidence just get sucked up into somewhere else?"
Addison continues to walk along, following the trail of footprints and handprints. "Interoffice mail. The University uses the Tubes."
Ahead, the Galvanic lights begin to flicker and fail, plunging a section of the tunnel into sporadic darkness.
Lucretia sighs and says, "Addison? Don't turn around for a moment." She lifts her skirts to take from a specially sewn in pocket in the petticoats her Concealable Reciprocating Pneumatic Pistol.
Addison does not turn around for a moment. Instead he stares into the flickering sporadic darkness that may conceal some creature that likes to rip off heads. It's much more pleasant.
Low, beneath the hiss of steam and the faint hum of galvanics, there sounds an almost human whimper.
Lucretia would undoubtedly be offended by the thought that her lacy unmentionables are less pleasant than murder. However, she is now behind Addison with a pistol, so that makes up for it all! She tilts her head to the side, listening intently.
Addison takes a few very slow steps forward, his soft shoes making soft little squelching noises on the ground, the rapier at ready.
In the flickering lights, there are glimpses of a hunched over form ahead. Long arms, matted and mangy fur, and the occasional glint of metal.
Lucretia twitches. "Er. Addison? I think you were right and it's an escaped lab subject. That, and - you might want not to rush in."
Addison moves toward the hunched over form verrrrry slooooooowly indeed, his sword at ready. Inch inch inch inch inch.
The whimpering stops. There is a hint of black eyes and a heavy brow turning to look at the sound.
Lucretia calls out, quietly but trying to be heard, "We are not here to hurt you. If you'll let me, I will try to heal you." She tries to make her voice sound soothing and friendly despite the conditions.
Addison just tries, as before, to insert himself between Lucretia and the creature, even though all his senses tell him this is a terribly bad idea. But Lucretia found his White Knight button and pushed it, and here he is, White Knighting.
There is a bellowing hoot, starting low and ramping up in pitch and volume, angry and hurt. And then, from the darkness, something charges.
Lucretia did not do so for any reason other than to get Addison to sleep in the same bed as her in a nonsexual context, but go tell THAT to a court of law. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. Addison, duck." She takes aim.
Addison manages to duck, as instructed...
Lucretia takes careful aim, firing past Addison at the source of the charge. "I realize this makes me seem a liar, but if you're running at me, I assume not in glee," she calls. She manages NOT to hit Addison, backpedaling a bit away from the charge as best she can.
There is a *clang* as Lucretia's shot rings off metal, and the beast comes into enough light to get a clear view. No taller than a man, but twice as broad, and disproportionately long arms. A leathery face, open-mouthed in yellowtoothed rage, and orange fur that is dirty and matted. Arms and legs appear to have had pneumatic frameworks bonded to them, suppurating skin around hissing machinery. It does not slow its charge, long arms swinging out with the shriek of air pressure and primate muscle.
Addison's eyes get big as the thing comes out of the darkness to reveal itself. But dammit, now he has this White Knight meme in his head and he /is/ the Knight of Death, so he really should do something. He straightens and gets into a defensive stance, attempting to hold this thing back from Lucretia to allow her a second shot, or to try something, anything.
Lucretia sighs. "It's a pneumatic orangutan. Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" And she is again taking particularly close aim, attempting to hit a vital spot, patiently waiting for the best shot possible amid Addison's defense.
Addison relaxes more when he is actually in combat -- anticipation kills him. He gets into the full defensive stance and attempts to draw the monster, only moving to block its attacks and dodge anything that might be coming for him. He manages to tie up the pneumatic orangutan enough to slow it down and maintain a successful defensive wall between it and Lucretia.
Lucretia seems fairly calm. Why, it's as if she stares down the face of monstrous death on a regular basis! She watches, waits, seemingly interminably, the pistol raised in both hands with a sniper's endless patience - and then, there's the pfft of its projectile zipping from the barrel, past Addison, into the thing's face. It will, at the very least, Hurt Like Hell.
At the very least, it Hurts Like Hell. In addition, it also blinds the beast in one eye, causing the hoots and hollers to take on much more pain than rage. It begins lashing out blindly, angrily, not caring who or what is in its way.
It seems that Addison is in its way, as a long arm unfolds and almost casually knocks Addison aside, flinging him against the tunnel wall with a meaty SMACK.
Lucretia winces on Addison's behalf, and aims for the brainpan this time. She leaves witty repartee for later; she isn't dressed for it.
Addison makes a sad little oofing noise as he hits the wall and slides down to the floor of the tunnel. He starts shaking his head, trying to shake off the daze, and reaches out for his sword again.
Lucretia is cool, collected, and it's easy to see at the moment that she may well have been very, very good at being Evil. The silk gown has wilted considerably, causing it to be slinkier and more revealing, and the elaborately coiffed hairdo is now clinging to her cheeks and her neck. She simply keeps the pistol raised, maintaining a bead on the Monstrous Thing as it comes at her, an intent expression upon her face. Calmly, she pulls the trigger, and this time, the shot is right to the forehead.
Inertia is a powerful thing, driving the beast forward even as the steel ball rips through its forebrain. It falls short, though, skidding to a halt on the tunnel floor just before Lucretia. Arms and legs still twitch, driven by embedded pneumatics.
Addison struggles slowly off the floor of the tunnel, moaning softly, rapier dangling from one hand and other hand holding on to the wall.
Lucretia does not immediately turn to Addison. Instead, she takes careful aim to just below or above the embedded pneumatics, firing shots to attempt to sever the connections keeping the thing moving. "I'll be right with you," she remarks calmly. "However, it's a rule to always finish off Failed Experiments so they don't have a hope of coming back to life."
Spack spack spack the shots hit the sack of meat that was formerly a Pneumatically Enhanced Ourang-Outang, and soon even the faintest twitching ceases.
Addison reaches up and wipes the blood from a cut lip off his chin with the back of his hand. "Now... what?"
"Now," Lucretia moves to examine Addison, "we attempt to between us drag this thing up as evidence that we are not murderers. If you feel it advisable, I will give you the credit for this, although I am all for taking my own share of the credit. But first, before we do that, I'm going to make sure you haven't cracked any ribs."
Addison nods a little numbly. He gets all the way to full standing, unbuttons his suit jacket and then his vest, and spreads his arms so that Lucretia can poke and prod him a bit.
Lucretia mms. "Bruised, but not broken. Good. Do you want me to give you something to help you ignore the pain? It's going to take both of us to get this thing up, I think. It looks heavy."
Addison looks at the thing on the floor of the tunnel. "If you have something, you should give me something. It will kick in as we drag it out of here."
Lucretia nods. "Close your eyes." She moves to haul her skirts up again.
Addison closes his eyes obediently.
Lucretia rummages until she finds what she's looking for. A syringe, and an ampoule. "Roll up your sleeves. This is a dosage of adrenaline designed explicitly to give you a boost without making your heart explode. It is calculated to work on me, so it should definitely work on you, especially as we are, after all, related."
Addison looks a little nervous about this, but he rolls up his left sleeve and presents the inside of his arm for Lucretia and Lucretia's syringe.
Lucretia is, after all, a doctor. She administers the shot.
Addison's eyes get wide at the shot and he feels a bit funky for a moment. He says, "Woah..." And then he gets it together and says, "And now for our friend while the shot is still good." He bends to grab his half of pneumatic orang-u-tan.
Lucretia grabs the other half. "Right. I don't suppose there's a way out not involving a ladder?"
The corpse is heavy, but not unmanageable for two people. Addison knows the tunnels well enough to find a ground-level exit, or at least a handy basement.
Lucretia sighs. "I suppose this means I don't get my honourary degree," she mourns.
Addison manhandles the corpse to somewhere at least not in the tunnel. He says, "No, no, no, they've already filed that paperwork, Lucretia. You will still get your degree. But we need to find /someone/ who can take care of this thing because we cannot wander about Begma City with a big experimental corpse. It simply isn't done."
The tunnel eventually terminates in a basement, surrounded by crates of old equipment.
Lucretia perks up a bit. "Oh, well," she says brightly. "Why not have Doctor Scarriton-Smythe paged? She seemed very fond of the dead fellow, so she should be at least able to deal with this."
Addison stares at the corpse. "How do you feel about the Media?"
Lucretia turns to Addison. "That depends," she answers very seriously. "...How do I look?"
"Like you have just done combat with a huge experimental pneumatic orang-u-tan in a steam tunnel," Addison says.
Lucretia sighs. "Then I'm not entirely keen on the Media." She frets, patting at her hair. "...I don't suppose we could nip back to the hotel to freshen up first."
Addison peers up at the light above. "By now, everyone knows Professor Wotshisname is dead. They know we went after it. We're going to appear with the corpse of the murderer. I would say, smile for the cameras."
Lucretia sighs. "Oh, all right. Let me just put on some lip gloss, at least." Up haul the skirts.
Addison looks away politely.
The corpse of the beast is hauled upstairs, scaring the pants off of a few undergraduates. Dr. Scarriton-Smythe is summonable, having come to her senses. There is less hoopla than expected, as Walpole-Watson is less blase about Horrible Carnage than St. Thyme's is, so the whole thing has an air of hushed scandal rather than spectacle. The corpse is hauled off for examination, and Addison and Lucretia are hurried off, this time in a covered carriage, to their hotel room. No explanation is offered for the presence of the Ourang-Outang, and inquiries are deflected very deftly. Dr. Scarriton-Smythe has lost an enormous amount of enthusiasm. Lucretia still recieves her Doctorate, and is invited to speak on her findings 'when our grief has subsided enough to resume our dedication to learning'.
Lucretia is primarily happy for the opportunity to titivate, and to have a new piece of sheepskin to put somewhere interesting. She does her best to rein in the good cheer in the face of grief.
Addison is mostly worried how he is going to give a complicated presentation on Kitezh Origins covered in bruises but that is for the morning to worry about.
Addison almost oofs. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and says, "Oh, I say! Excuse me! I did not mean -- Lucretia?" He peers closer. "What are you doing here?"
Lucretia is looking brisk, cheerful, and distinctly corseted - or, rather, as if she's gone ahead and notched her corset in one key tighter. It's still not so tight as to interfere with functioning, anyway. "Why, Addison! Fancy running into you here." She practically bubbles with good cheer. "What? Can't a girl be in Begma without it meaning something awful? As it happens, I had a letter."
"A letter?" Addison asks as people push around him to get down the gangway. "What sort of letter? A particularly Begman letter?"
Lucretia sidesteps a particular mass of seething humanity, then turns to open her reticule, moving down the gangplank a bit as she does so. "A University of Begma-ish letter. Apparently I'm famous. And, well, my vanity's been a bit underfed and wan, lately, so it cheered me up no end. Here, have a look for yourself."
There is indeed a very human pressure, urging them down the gangplank and into the crowd below.
Addison follows Lucretia down the gangway and he peers at a letter that is, without a doubt, stamped with the seal of the University of Begma. "Wot, becoming Duchess of a cornerstone of the universe is not enough for your vanity? Let me see it." He takes the letter from her and reads through it quickly.
Dr. Lucretia Mandrake
c/o Amber Palace
Amber City
Amber
Dr. Mandrake -
It is with great Pleasure and no small Honor that I write to you to-day. Word of your Innovative Research has reached us here, and we would like to Invite you to a Colloquium to Present your Finidings, and accept an Honorary Doctorate Degree from our College. Enclosed please find details on the Event, and please once again accept our Thanks and Respect for your dedication to the Science of Health.
Dr. W.E. Scarriton-Smythe,
Assistant Dean of Medicine
Walpole-Watson School of Medicine
University of Begma
Begma City
Begma
Lucretia points out, "It's not nearly so much of an honour when you become it sheerly through lack of anyone else competent who's willing to do the job. Everything's been all business now, you realize; it's all 'nothing personal'. And, well, I'm a very personal sort of girl." She does her best to keep pace with Addison without letting people push between them. "And it is nice to be recognized for my mind - what about you, what are YOU doing here?"
"Oh!" Addison says as he reads over the letter. "Oh my. Oh! Well, this is quite nice, isn't it? They're giving you a degree. Quite pleasant." He hands the letter back to Lucretia. "I am presenting my findings from the research on the origins on Kitezh to the Collegium at St. Eggies, to the Historical and Archeological Department. I am hoping that it will be published in the journal."
There in the mass of humanity is a woman bundled into tweed. Settling into age, she could have been a beauty in her youth, but her cheeks sag, her eyes sink behind spectacles, and she has become somewhat stout. Her hair is still blond, and done up into a bun, but grey roots are visible. She is holding a sign saying MANDRAKE.
Lucretia tucks the letter securely away in her reticule as her gown's neckline isn't low enough for the use of cleavage for easy stowage. "Oh, lovely. Then you can go with me and show me how to get there so I don't get lost. My first time in Be-" She cuts off. "Looks like they thought of that. Here, come be my social interpreter and make sure I don't say anything too outlandishly wrong." She seems amused by the possibility.
Addison shrugs a bit and says, "I have not been here since last Yule, you know. It is a damn shame I do not get to Begma enough these days." He gamely follows along, because that is what he does.
The woman is looking around, searching each face without recognition...including Lucretia's.
Lucretia walks up to the woman in question and says brightly, "Pardon me. Are you waiting for Lucretia Bianca de'Mandrake, by any chance? Or are you hoping for a different Mandrake?"
Addison simply follows along and loiters. He is good at the following and loitering part.
The woman beams brightly, and lowers her card. "I would indeed! Would it be proper to say, then, that you are she?"
Lucretia agrees cheerfully, "I am. Please, call me Lucy. May I ask who I have the honour of speaking with? And have you met the gentleman who's been helping make sure I don't get lost thus far?"
Addison smiles and waves Addisonly.
The woman extends her hand. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Mandrake! I am Winifred Scarriton-Smythe, I was the one who wrote to you. So /glad/ that you could join us!" She looks at Addison, and nods. "And to you, sir, a pleasure to meet you."
Addison offers his hand and says, "Dr. Addison Dare, of the Begma City Dares."
Winifred blinks, and takes Addison's hand as soon as hers has done its duty with Lucretia. "Dr. Dare! How remarkable! I had your cousin Garrison as a laboratory assistant several years back."
"Oh really?" Addison says, his hand being shaked and then done being shaked. "Oh yes. Garrison! Bully for him. Excellent. We are everywhere, though. Dare is a rather large family."
Lucretia beams at Winifred. "How do you do, doctor? We seem to be a plethora of doctors." She is in high spirits, even without having had any Begman coffee to propel her. "I must say it is a very great pleasure to be here. Addison and I have worked together on occasion on interdisciplinary studies, so it's lovely to be here in such good company."
Winifred says, "Oh quite, quite. And so terribly talented as well." She turns back to Lucretia, nodding. "Of course. He is welcome to join us all tonight, of course. We did not know if you would be travelling alone or not, so we made provisions for a guest. You'll be staying at the Excelsior, of course - a guest of the University."
Addison's eyebrows go up and says, "My. The Excelsior. That is posh. If Dr. Mandrake is game, I am perfectly happy to be 'and guest' for the weekend."
Lucretia looks cheerful still, and blank, perhaps relieved for Addison's subtle filling in. "I should profess myself most delighted! It's always nice to have friendly faces about. I hope to enlist Doctor Dare's aid in procuring a rare specimen for medical dissection sometime soon, in fact!"
Winifred says, "Brilliant! Come along, then, we have a car waiting to take you to the hotel, before tonight. I am /certain/ you'll wish to rest and refresh yourselves."
Addison does point out: "I do have a paper to present at St. Eggies, so I will have to swing by and take care of that. They are rather keen to see if Basil Dare's son can do a damn bit of independent research. Hard to live up to my father, especially here in Begma." Then he gets a look on his face that is Oooh! Car!
Winifred says, "Of course! We'll even have a few of their faculty in attendance tonight. Strictly as a courtesy, of course."
Lucretia nods, clearly content to fall into line with this plan. "Yes, quite. The ferry was not uncomfortable, but travel always takes its toll, after all. And yes, of course, Addison - if the timing permits, perhaps I'll be able to sneak into the gallery to listen? If there is a gallery, after all."
Addison says, "I am rather keen on all these plans." He flashes Lucretia a big smile.
Winifred leads the way to a long, open-topped carriage, with a massive steam boiler at the back and a man in the front wearing a heavy leather coat and goggles. She ushers everyone in, and the car rattles and hisses down the streets of Begma. Really quite remarkable, though people on the street give it a sensibly wide berth. Conversation, over the noise of the engine, is difficult.
Addison looks unbelievably pleased to be not only back in his Begma City where Civilization Works and People have Government that is Not Silly and people wear Proper Trousers, but he is in an actual motorized coach! And motorized coaches are the best coaches there are!
Lucretia does not really try to maintain conversation, content to take in her surroundings and observe. She does seem pleased to be here, though not quite to the level Addison is; she has her usual level of 'hello, world, here I am, all you lovely people!' firmly in place.
Addison grabs Lucretia's arm and points out things he clearly feels are landmarks -- some pub, a clock tower, a building with interesting awning, a square -- but it is impossible to hear what he says over the din of the car.
The car comes to a halt in front of the Excelsior Hotel; a gaudy, gilt, rococo affair that screams Posh in the language of Begman architecture. Winifred gives an eager smile. "Watkins will be back in two hours to bring you to the University. I hope you'll find everything to your liking."
Lucretia looks tremendously pleased. Ooh, posh. If there is one language Lucy definitely speaks, it's the language of Luxury. "I will absolutely be ready by then, and I'm sure I will, Doctor. I'll look forward to it! Addison, when are you due?"
"Not until tomorrow," Addison says as he clambers out of the car and on to the sidewalk. "I scheduled in an extra day to simply be back in Begma. I am free to accompany you as your And Guest."
The lobby of the hotel is plushly carpeted, and there is mechanical lift and uniformed porters to see to their luggage. The room is likewise richly appointed, with an enormous copper tub, running hot water, and a gramophone with an excellent selection of music. There is a small problem, though. There's only one bed, large as it might be.
Addison stares at the one bed for a few minutes, the machinery in his head whirring. Then he looks around to see if this suite also has, perhaps, a couch.
The suite has a couch. It is well stuffed and upholstered in red velvet.
Addison thinks about the fate of his back, and suspect the fate of his back is not going to be a good one.
Lucretia's luggage is not /too/ immense; only two trunks, considering the size and type of gowns in Begma. She tips the porters reasonably but not ridiculously (by her standards, at least), and then turns to have a look. "Oh, this IS nice." She fails at first to notice the obvious.
"It is the Excelsior," Addison says as he follows Lucretia through the suite. "It is quite posh. Perfect for a visiting Duchess about to receive an honorary degree."
Lucretia laughs. "Well, as long as I've earned the degree through something other than being a Duchess. Though you know, I'm not quite officially Duchess yet. Technically, I suppose I am - but I'm not, at the same time." She looks at the bed, then looks at Addison speculatively.
"We have a bit of an issue," Addison says lamely.
Lucretia inquires, "Why? Do you snore?"
Addison says, turning a bit pink, "No? Not that I know about?"
Lucretia smiles. "I -can- keep my hands to myself, Addison. You're cute and all, but you're someone else's husband, and I don't poach. If it helps, just put your sword down the middle - remember, you're Brand's knight. Isn't it customary for a knight to protect his lord's lady, including guarding her bed in that way?"
Addison eyes Lucretia in that Addison eying sort of way. Then he gives in, rather quickly, because he does not want to sleep on the couch. "I am, technically, a Knight, yes. And you are my Patron Lord's Lady. So it is my duty bound by honor and God to protect you from harm."
Lucretia's lips twitch. "At least until Brand changes his mind about me, anyway. Anyway, it's a big enough bed. And /I/ don't snore. And I did pack nighties, since I don't sleep in the nude in strange places. I don't sleep in the nude very often anyway; too many things happen at night. But I -will- insist on claiming first privilege of the bath - I'm going to go freshen up. Why don't you order up something to snack on? I don't know about you, but I'm starved." She turns away quickly, as if dismissing a memory.
Addison stands there looking a little stunned for a moment. He opens his mouth. He closes his mouth. He says "Er..." Then, heaving a sigh, he goes about doing what he always does, which is generally what he's told when someone female and in command gives him an order. He orders up some room service of nice little finger sandwiches and a pot of tea.
Time passes. Lucretia gets to enjoy a Begman bathtub, with knobs that control jets of hot water and little bubble soap dispensers. Addison gets to enjoy a proper cuppa. When they are refreshed, they can meet Wilkins at the front of the hotel, and enjoy another rickety steam car ride to the University. Eventually, they are seated near the head of an exceedingly long table within the Banquet Hall of the Walpole-Watson School of Medicine, in the depths of a Faculty Dinner. There are conversations over scientific minutiae that have the undertone of a thousand repetitions, and some arguments that seem just short of coming to blows. There is wine, and there is food.
Addison avails himself of the wine and the food because, frankly, he has nothing else to contribute except to say, occasionally, "No, I am not Dr. Lucretia Bianca de'Mandrake's husband. I am simply a friend," over and over again to half-interested parties.
Lucretia is beamingly happy to be here, and tells everyone so who will listen who expresses even the slightest interest. She does the same on the topic of any scientific topics which come up, with the grace and aplomb of someone accustomed to defending her theses at full speed while wielding a rapier. "Hm, Doctor Dare? He is a professional colleague and friend, but nothing more. He happened to be in Begma for his own work, and he does, after all, know Begma so much better than I."
No matter how interesting the initial conversations, the fact that the attendants are bound to their seats and arranged by precendence rather than any real proper sense of social balance means that after the second or third hour, things are somewhat dragging. Debates that were once intellectually stimulating have become gratingly nitpicky. The food keeps coming well past the point of satiety, and the constant flow of wine has made some of the more belligerent faculty downright boorish. There have been speeches of varying quality, but it begins to become obvious that something is not right. Dr. Scarriton-Smythe leans over to Lucretia. "I am so terribly sorry, Dr. Mandrake. Professor Fotheringay was supposed to introduce you, but he still has yet to arrive."
Addison cannot eat any more. He cannot drink any more. He cannot hear any more of this pointless bickering over things he does not understand. He closes his eyes and wishes that he was standing humiliated in Corwin's Throne Room, because really, it would be more pleasant than this and afterward he could go have a nice lie down.
Lucretia looks curiously to Doctor Scarriton-Smythe, then nods, lips pursed. "Is there an acceptable substitute who would be able to do so, or should we mount a search party? I don't, of course, quite know how things are done here, but I shouldn't want it to turn ugly. If need be, I could attempt to introduce myself, but that does seem a bit rude."
Winifred says, "Well, he was so looking forward to it. He specializes in animals as well, you see, and has been following your beetles quite closely." She looks around the hall for a moment. "Perhaps we can go check on him; he may be indisposed."
Addison picks up on this immediately and tosses down his napkin. "Oh, let's! I must accompany Dr. Mandrake, I'm afraid. It's quite important."
Lucretia smiles, seeming particularly amused by Addison's haste for some reason. "By all means. Though as a suggestion - if there's an orchestra or the like, you might just invite them in as an interlude to the food and drink before people begin to wander off or get quarrelsome. Er. Moreso." She unhurriedly rises to her feet.
Addison rises to his feet in considerably more of a hurry. A bit like he is looking to flee.
Winifred waves that away. "They're always like this. Professor Fotheringay should have been here before any fights started, though." She rises from her seat, and moves out of the Hall.
Lucretia looks less like she is fleeing, but she follows readily enough. "I'm quite curious about the Professor, really. I had no idea word of my research had traveled so far."
Winifred says, "Oh, we follow things quite closely since Amber lent its aid against the Black Road here. And you do so much in such a limited world. Ah. Here we are."
Winifred knocks on an unwindowed office door. "Horace? Horace, are you there?"
Addison follows along, as he is wont, well aware that his shiny silver sword is in letter-opener form deep in his satchel. Along with his possessed, evil pen.
Lucretia listens, but does not try to push ahead. "I do hope he's all right," she remarks. "After all - it was quite kind of him to take an interest."
Winifred frowns, and knocks again, harder. "Horace?" There is a faint note of more than collegial concern in her voice.
Addison reaches into his satchel and pulls out his silver letter opener.
Lucretia absently lifts a hand to the frippery atop her head, patting it lightly.
Winifred starts fumbling for a ring of keys at her belt. "He doesn't sleep deeply," she says, "Something's wrong."
Lucretia suggests, "Well, we are all doctors; and I am a medical doctor, if it helps, in the tradition of my family."
Addison simply stands there in a sort of putting himself between Lucretia and face eating horrors sort of way.
Winifred finds the key and unlocks the door. As it swings open, she faints dead away.
Lucretia is now very curious. So of course she tries to look through the open doorway to see what could POSSIBLY do such.
The office has become an abbatoir. Blood splashes high on the walls, and soaks the carpet until it is black. Chunks of meat scattered about may once have been Professor Horace Fotheringay. The head, wide-eyed, wide-mouthed and half-shattered most definitely was, as it sits like a gruesome paperweight on the desk.
"Ah," Addison says as the rapier unfolds in his hand and he moves to catch, or at least lower, Winifred, "It's just like Amber."
Lucretia's eyebrows crawl upwards. "Dreadfully unsanitary," she says judiciously. "Also? Ew. Er. Addison, I've never thought to ask before, and this might possibly not be the best time, but - oh, is it? Good. Then I feel better prepared."
---
Addison lowers Winifred to the carpeting as carefully as he can and instantly flips on the Death-o-Matic Death Maker vision and walks into the room full of dismembered body parts. The carpet under his feet is squelchy. Everything drips. Good thing he has no fondness for this suit whatsoever.
Lucretia lets Winifred bounce, mainly due to being fascinated and diverted by the carnage. Her hand goes atop her head and she pulls from her hair a rather long, sharp-looking dagger. The hat flutters away frippily. The hair stays up. She moves to follow Addison inside, but hovers at the doorway. This dress is new, after all.
Lucretia looks through the room with her Life sense, in contrast to Addison. After all, if someone else is there, it's probably whoever removed the good professor's head.
Winifred groans softly, outside the office. Inside, Addison has a sword in hand and the liquid contents of Professor Fotheringay on his shoes. Lucretia hovers at the doorway. Strong stomachs are required. The eyes of Death show that the poor dismembered Professor is, in fact dead. The eyes of Life show no other living being in the room - a room which Dr. Scarriton-Smythe had to unlock.
"No souls here," Addison says as he squelches through the puddles of goo. "The good Professor pragmatically decided not to hang about after being dismembered. You think someone was upset with the seating arrangements at the dinner?"
Lucretia mms. "Looks a bit extreme, even for how argumentative that lot were being." She looks around, then looks at Winifred thoughtfully, taking a certain time about making quite sure the woman is making no sudden moves. "Lovers' quarrel?"
Winifred stirs, half-conscious. Even fully awake, though, it doesn't look like she's physically capable of creating the scene in the office.
"This is not Montevalno," Addison says as he starts looking for anything that might be interesting. Notes. Threats. Papers sitting on desks. Maybe hidden panels in the desk. That may be a first good place to look. "This is Begma. Quarrels involve sending very polite notes. We have a murder rate, but not much at the University. It is academic sniping, not decapitation and spreading one about the curtains."
Lucretia nods thoughtfully, then moves to politely drag Winifred out of direct line of sight of the door. "Then who were his primary academic rivals, becomes the next question - although the lady doctor here did say he worked with animals as well as people. And he had an interest in my beetles, which suggests... well, you can see what it suggests."
"Someone wants your beetle research," Addison says as he begins to search the desk, even though it has a head on it and is utterly covered in gore. He does not seem to flinch in the least. A body without a soul is just meat to him. "Look for anything obviously rifled... ah." He turns toward an open cabinet and rifles through that. He pulls out an interesting file and says, "Lucretia. Look here a moment."
Lucretia nods, moving to head in, lifting her skirts genteelly to minimize spatter. "Well, I did tell you, didn't I, that the Road apparently wants me dead or tainted, due to my research. Unless Caine was lying. I don't rule it out. But it did make sense." She offers a hand out for the file. "I think the dear departed wanted my research, likely, in order to fix some problem which came up in his own research. Nothing like a bit of graft in the form of an honourary degree, is there?"
The file is full of news clippings about the dearly departed Doctor from the more liberal newspapers in Begma. They're all about him and his work, and most are extremely negative. It seems there are people in Begma who feel that sticking Galvanic electrodes in brains of monkeys is not Properly Ethical Science. "It may be something a bit more mundane than the Black Road," Addison says.
Lucretia hms and nods, going through the clippings. "Animal activists are always so in the way of scientific advancement. Ah, well. Either that, or he decided to move up from monkeys to apes." She looks at the severed head. "Still, this does look a bit - much. The real question is, how did they get in and out without a key? Or if they had a key - without leaving bloody footprints in the hall?"
Addison begins to search the ceiling and upper parts of the walls for openings to air ducts.
The ceiling is the roof of the building, and there is a skylight. It is broken open, but far too high for someone to jump up to.
Lucretia looks up. "Well, we know how they got /in/." She looks for bookcases which might move - and any voids in the blood spatter.
Addison peers at the skylight. "That is how they got in and out, but exactly how and with what is a bit of a mystery. Maybe better evidence on the roof looking down on the skylight. Or... yes, bookshelves." He moves to help with the bookcases.
Addison stops moving the bookshelf for a moment and gets down on his knees. He looks up at the skylight, and on the carpet. "There are depressions here that are vaguely foot like."
Lucretia pauses, looking down at where Addison is looking, then up at the skylight. "I did -not- bring a grappling hook and rope. This gown is voluminous, but not that voluminous."
Addison stands up again. "Then what do you suggest? I can climb up there."
One person could boost another up, if they were particularly strong. That leaves the second below, though.
Lucretia mms. "Either my petticoats are sacrificed, or, more pragmatically, we rearrange the office. Although before we do so, I want to see if our visitor left any calling card. It is, after all, a particularly brutal and graphic sort of crime; it would be a shame to miss something out of fastidiousness." She turns to bear down on the severed head.
Addison nods to that but he does not bear down on the severed head because Lucretia is getting too much glee and he would hate to rob her of her glee. Instead he searches the room for anything that might be a calling card beneath the cooling, gibbering bits of the nice Professor who likes to stick electrodes into brain cavities.
Lucretia's eyebrows shoot up. "I take it back about the calling card, I think," she remarks absently. "Addison, out of curiosity - as I am unfamiliar with Begma's Rules and Regulations of Natural and Supernatural Science," she has to talk like that, it's a law in and of itself, "please, enlighten me as to what sort of preternatural entities exist here? Also, as to whether there are gorillas, or people who might share qualities in common - or whether vampires are terribly common here."
Addison stands up slowly and looks at Lucretia flatly. "This is Begma. There are no Vampires in Begma. There are no Monsters in Begma. Begma is a land of the rational and the scientific. Once, long ago, this place was a verdant paradise of pointless magic tricks, but that was ended with the Civil War."
Lucretia mms. "The difficulty with civil wars, in my experience, is that unless it is brutally thorough and even sometimes then, there are often little pockets of hold-outs. As for rational and scientific, Addison, while you may say there are no Vampires and no Monsters, I will draw your attention to this." She lifts the head by the hair to keep blood mostly off her gloves, pointing with the hair dagger she still holds. "Observe, if you will, the damage to the vertebrae here, here and here. This man's head was not chopped or sawn off. It was torn off by sheer, massive, brute force." She looks steadily at her colleague and protector. "If it was not a Monster, then ... what was it?"
Addison stares at Lucretia when she just hauls a decapitated head by the hair and does a little scientific forensics explanation for him. Even though he has picked up the Feldane sociopathic outlook toward deinhabited bodies, even this gets a bit of a start out of him. "Hey, put that down, you don't know where that has been! Or worse... you do!" He waves his hands at Lucretia. "Look, how do you know he did not create some horrible monster in a laboratory that decided it had enough of the nice Doctor Wotshisname here and came to mete out a bit of the old one two?"
Lucretia says patiently, "That would be a monster, wouldn't it? In any case, all I am saying is, you cannot rule out the inobvious answers. We can try to eliminate them - but leave them on the table. After all, if WE caught the ferry here - who knows who, or what, else otherwise did?"
Addison peers up at the skylight. "I'll boost you up."
Lucretia sticks the hair dagger back into her hair. "Allez-oop, then."
With much pain and embarrassment, Addison makes with the boosting of Lucretia up to the skylight.
Lucretia is not all -that- hefty, but she is bebosomed and behipped. She moves to attempt to drag herself up to safety.
There is enough of the frame clear of glass for Lucretia to get a safe handhold, and pull herself up to the roof.
Addison tries very very hard not to look up Lucretia's dress, but it is a bit unavoidable. He does most of this with his eyes closed.
Lucretia has petticoats, which may be of help. She does not have bloomers, however, having apparently drawn the line there. Instead, she has frilly unmentionables.
Addison does not mention the unmentionables. Instead he goes with the bookcase plan, and attempts to follow Lucretia up to the roof via the bookcases in the room and some climbing and hoping not to go over into the goo on the carpet.
It is easy enough for Addison to figure out a way to arrange the furniture to provide a way up to the skylight,
Addison scrambles up onto the roof through the skylight after kicking all sorts of books and knick-nacks onto the floor.
The roof of the building is fairly flat, but it is several stories up, and widely spaced from its neighboring buildings. Various vents and chimneys sprout from the roof, spewing smoke and steam.
Lucretia is looking around the rooftop when Addison gets there, having been doing searching in the serene expectation that Addison is competent to get up to follow her. She is looking for traces of Who, What and Where, with a dash of How. "That's a rather substantial leap," she remarks, "for anyone or anything to make. Unless it could fly." She looks up. "Or came from an airship."
Lucretia adds, "An airship which conveniently hovered until murder was finished, then waited and took the murderer away."
Addison frowns and stares at the sky. "You'd think someone would notice an airship. I mean, airships are sort of noticeable in an airship sort of way. Difficult to be crept up on by an airship. They simply aren't sneaky. Not what you would call a conventional get away vehicle."
Lucretia suggests, frowning as well, "Well, then, we have a preternaturally strong homicidal maniac with a hang glider."
Addison stands there for a moment imagining a gorilla broken loose from a lab with dangling wires from his brain cavity probes riding a hang glider. "Riiiiiiiight. Look about. Maybe some other clue is up here." He starts pacing around the roof.
Lucretia looks for ways of climbing down along the side of the building, moving carefully. "Either that, or we've missed something back in the office."
Lucretia stops. "Look for blood. No way whoever did that wasn't dripping with blood when they left."
Addison gets on his knees and says, "Lucretia. Steam vents. This one appears to be missing its grate."
Lucretia moves over to Addison, peering at the vent in question. "Er. Wouldn't it hurt?"
Maintenance ladders. And the steam itself is mostly waste vapor. It'll ruin silk or coiffed hair, but it won't hurt.
Addison looks up at Lucretia. "I don't understand the question. It came from this steam vent." He points down into the steam vent. "I should go first."
Lucretia sighs. "I think I prefer Cibola. At least then a girl can adventure and still look good. All right, you go first. Shout up if you see anything or run into trouble."
Addison gives Lucretia a look. "You are going /second/, are you not?"
Lucretia gives Addison that Look right back. "Of course I am. But if you run into trouble or see something, I'll HURRY about it."
"Right." Addison collapses his sword back into a letter opener for easier transit, and climbs down the ladder into the steam vent.
Lucretia hovers at the top, waiting a few minutes to see if Addison let's out a shriek or in any way finds anything to indicate Not A Dead End. It's a nice dress! "Any signs of blood?" she calls down.
---
Addison climbs down and down and down and down and down several stories until he finally reaches the bottom and slides to reach the bottom. He cups his hands around his mouth and yells: "ONLY LOADS OF BLOOD AND FOOTPRINTS! You might want to come down here!" He is aware of the stories of the steam tunnels. They run everywhere and carry things other than steam. Rats. Trolls. Post-Docs.
Lucretia mounts the ladder with a sigh, after briefly but strongly considering leaving her gown behind. "Coming, dear," she calls tartly. She uses a modified fireman's slide to join him without dropping on top of him.
Addison is already looking at the blood, the footprints, the handprints and the drips. "At least whoever did this left a nice trail."
The steam tunnels are dimly lit with galvanic lights, rather than the oxygen-stealing gaslamps more common in Begma. There is a drip of condensation, and the hum and rattle of pipes carrying steam, water, and other things to various places around the campus. Smeared by motion and humidity, the bloody footprints lead away.
Lucretia mms. "Well, it'd be hard for them to do otherwise, but before we go haring after them, I'm going to check just one thing." She bends to examine with a very close scrutiny.
Addison stands back and waits a moment for Lucretia to do something doctor-y.
Lucretia hms. "Well, I don't see any sign of my suspicions, so ... we'll proceed for now." She straightens up.
Addison flicks his letter opener and the sword reopens with a hiss and a click. "Right. I suggest down the tunnel with all the handprints, footprints, and blood. Just at a guess." He starts heading in that general direction.
Lucretia makes a face at Addison's back, though she does move to follow him. "Look. Which one of us is the one who used to be evil?"
The tunnel stretches on, mathematically straight. There is a rumble and a hiss, as something solid goes shooting through one of the larger pipes.
Addison asks, with a bit of trepidation, "Is this a trick question?"
"All I'm saying is, if you have a formerly evil adventuress on your side, you shouldn't make sarcastic remarks when she attempts to gauge the level of evil of our opponent. Not even just because I might forget and decide I'm still evil." Lucretia's head turns sharply, expression alert. "Is that normal, or did evidence just get sucked up into somewhere else?"
Addison continues to walk along, following the trail of footprints and handprints. "Interoffice mail. The University uses the Tubes."
Ahead, the Galvanic lights begin to flicker and fail, plunging a section of the tunnel into sporadic darkness.
Lucretia sighs and says, "Addison? Don't turn around for a moment." She lifts her skirts to take from a specially sewn in pocket in the petticoats her Concealable Reciprocating Pneumatic Pistol.
Addison does not turn around for a moment. Instead he stares into the flickering sporadic darkness that may conceal some creature that likes to rip off heads. It's much more pleasant.
Low, beneath the hiss of steam and the faint hum of galvanics, there sounds an almost human whimper.
Lucretia would undoubtedly be offended by the thought that her lacy unmentionables are less pleasant than murder. However, she is now behind Addison with a pistol, so that makes up for it all! She tilts her head to the side, listening intently.
Addison takes a few very slow steps forward, his soft shoes making soft little squelching noises on the ground, the rapier at ready.
In the flickering lights, there are glimpses of a hunched over form ahead. Long arms, matted and mangy fur, and the occasional glint of metal.
Lucretia twitches. "Er. Addison? I think you were right and it's an escaped lab subject. That, and - you might want not to rush in."
Addison moves toward the hunched over form verrrrry slooooooowly indeed, his sword at ready. Inch inch inch inch inch.
The whimpering stops. There is a hint of black eyes and a heavy brow turning to look at the sound.
Lucretia calls out, quietly but trying to be heard, "We are not here to hurt you. If you'll let me, I will try to heal you." She tries to make her voice sound soothing and friendly despite the conditions.
Addison just tries, as before, to insert himself between Lucretia and the creature, even though all his senses tell him this is a terribly bad idea. But Lucretia found his White Knight button and pushed it, and here he is, White Knighting.
There is a bellowing hoot, starting low and ramping up in pitch and volume, angry and hurt. And then, from the darkness, something charges.
Lucretia did not do so for any reason other than to get Addison to sleep in the same bed as her in a nonsexual context, but go tell THAT to a court of law. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. Addison, duck." She takes aim.
Addison manages to duck, as instructed...
Lucretia takes careful aim, firing past Addison at the source of the charge. "I realize this makes me seem a liar, but if you're running at me, I assume not in glee," she calls. She manages NOT to hit Addison, backpedaling a bit away from the charge as best she can.
There is a *clang* as Lucretia's shot rings off metal, and the beast comes into enough light to get a clear view. No taller than a man, but twice as broad, and disproportionately long arms. A leathery face, open-mouthed in yellowtoothed rage, and orange fur that is dirty and matted. Arms and legs appear to have had pneumatic frameworks bonded to them, suppurating skin around hissing machinery. It does not slow its charge, long arms swinging out with the shriek of air pressure and primate muscle.
Addison's eyes get big as the thing comes out of the darkness to reveal itself. But dammit, now he has this White Knight meme in his head and he /is/ the Knight of Death, so he really should do something. He straightens and gets into a defensive stance, attempting to hold this thing back from Lucretia to allow her a second shot, or to try something, anything.
Lucretia sighs. "It's a pneumatic orangutan. Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" And she is again taking particularly close aim, attempting to hit a vital spot, patiently waiting for the best shot possible amid Addison's defense.
Addison relaxes more when he is actually in combat -- anticipation kills him. He gets into the full defensive stance and attempts to draw the monster, only moving to block its attacks and dodge anything that might be coming for him. He manages to tie up the pneumatic orangutan enough to slow it down and maintain a successful defensive wall between it and Lucretia.
Lucretia seems fairly calm. Why, it's as if she stares down the face of monstrous death on a regular basis! She watches, waits, seemingly interminably, the pistol raised in both hands with a sniper's endless patience - and then, there's the pfft of its projectile zipping from the barrel, past Addison, into the thing's face. It will, at the very least, Hurt Like Hell.
At the very least, it Hurts Like Hell. In addition, it also blinds the beast in one eye, causing the hoots and hollers to take on much more pain than rage. It begins lashing out blindly, angrily, not caring who or what is in its way.
It seems that Addison is in its way, as a long arm unfolds and almost casually knocks Addison aside, flinging him against the tunnel wall with a meaty SMACK.
Lucretia winces on Addison's behalf, and aims for the brainpan this time. She leaves witty repartee for later; she isn't dressed for it.
Addison makes a sad little oofing noise as he hits the wall and slides down to the floor of the tunnel. He starts shaking his head, trying to shake off the daze, and reaches out for his sword again.
Lucretia is cool, collected, and it's easy to see at the moment that she may well have been very, very good at being Evil. The silk gown has wilted considerably, causing it to be slinkier and more revealing, and the elaborately coiffed hairdo is now clinging to her cheeks and her neck. She simply keeps the pistol raised, maintaining a bead on the Monstrous Thing as it comes at her, an intent expression upon her face. Calmly, she pulls the trigger, and this time, the shot is right to the forehead.
Inertia is a powerful thing, driving the beast forward even as the steel ball rips through its forebrain. It falls short, though, skidding to a halt on the tunnel floor just before Lucretia. Arms and legs still twitch, driven by embedded pneumatics.
Addison struggles slowly off the floor of the tunnel, moaning softly, rapier dangling from one hand and other hand holding on to the wall.
Lucretia does not immediately turn to Addison. Instead, she takes careful aim to just below or above the embedded pneumatics, firing shots to attempt to sever the connections keeping the thing moving. "I'll be right with you," she remarks calmly. "However, it's a rule to always finish off Failed Experiments so they don't have a hope of coming back to life."
Spack spack spack the shots hit the sack of meat that was formerly a Pneumatically Enhanced Ourang-Outang, and soon even the faintest twitching ceases.
Addison reaches up and wipes the blood from a cut lip off his chin with the back of his hand. "Now... what?"
"Now," Lucretia moves to examine Addison, "we attempt to between us drag this thing up as evidence that we are not murderers. If you feel it advisable, I will give you the credit for this, although I am all for taking my own share of the credit. But first, before we do that, I'm going to make sure you haven't cracked any ribs."
Addison nods a little numbly. He gets all the way to full standing, unbuttons his suit jacket and then his vest, and spreads his arms so that Lucretia can poke and prod him a bit.
Lucretia mms. "Bruised, but not broken. Good. Do you want me to give you something to help you ignore the pain? It's going to take both of us to get this thing up, I think. It looks heavy."
Addison looks at the thing on the floor of the tunnel. "If you have something, you should give me something. It will kick in as we drag it out of here."
Lucretia nods. "Close your eyes." She moves to haul her skirts up again.
Addison closes his eyes obediently.
Lucretia rummages until she finds what she's looking for. A syringe, and an ampoule. "Roll up your sleeves. This is a dosage of adrenaline designed explicitly to give you a boost without making your heart explode. It is calculated to work on me, so it should definitely work on you, especially as we are, after all, related."
Addison looks a little nervous about this, but he rolls up his left sleeve and presents the inside of his arm for Lucretia and Lucretia's syringe.
Lucretia is, after all, a doctor. She administers the shot.
Addison's eyes get wide at the shot and he feels a bit funky for a moment. He says, "Woah..." And then he gets it together and says, "And now for our friend while the shot is still good." He bends to grab his half of pneumatic orang-u-tan.
Lucretia grabs the other half. "Right. I don't suppose there's a way out not involving a ladder?"
The corpse is heavy, but not unmanageable for two people. Addison knows the tunnels well enough to find a ground-level exit, or at least a handy basement.
Lucretia sighs. "I suppose this means I don't get my honourary degree," she mourns.
Addison manhandles the corpse to somewhere at least not in the tunnel. He says, "No, no, no, they've already filed that paperwork, Lucretia. You will still get your degree. But we need to find /someone/ who can take care of this thing because we cannot wander about Begma City with a big experimental corpse. It simply isn't done."
The tunnel eventually terminates in a basement, surrounded by crates of old equipment.
Lucretia perks up a bit. "Oh, well," she says brightly. "Why not have Doctor Scarriton-Smythe paged? She seemed very fond of the dead fellow, so she should be at least able to deal with this."
Addison stares at the corpse. "How do you feel about the Media?"
Lucretia turns to Addison. "That depends," she answers very seriously. "...How do I look?"
"Like you have just done combat with a huge experimental pneumatic orang-u-tan in a steam tunnel," Addison says.
Lucretia sighs. "Then I'm not entirely keen on the Media." She frets, patting at her hair. "...I don't suppose we could nip back to the hotel to freshen up first."
Addison peers up at the light above. "By now, everyone knows Professor Wotshisname is dead. They know we went after it. We're going to appear with the corpse of the murderer. I would say, smile for the cameras."
Lucretia sighs. "Oh, all right. Let me just put on some lip gloss, at least." Up haul the skirts.
Addison looks away politely.
The corpse of the beast is hauled upstairs, scaring the pants off of a few undergraduates. Dr. Scarriton-Smythe is summonable, having come to her senses. There is less hoopla than expected, as Walpole-Watson is less blase about Horrible Carnage than St. Thyme's is, so the whole thing has an air of hushed scandal rather than spectacle. The corpse is hauled off for examination, and Addison and Lucretia are hurried off, this time in a covered carriage, to their hotel room. No explanation is offered for the presence of the Ourang-Outang, and inquiries are deflected very deftly. Dr. Scarriton-Smythe has lost an enormous amount of enthusiasm. Lucretia still recieves her Doctorate, and is invited to speak on her findings 'when our grief has subsided enough to resume our dedication to learning'.
Lucretia is primarily happy for the opportunity to titivate, and to have a new piece of sheepskin to put somewhere interesting. She does her best to rein in the good cheer in the face of grief.
Addison is mostly worried how he is going to give a complicated presentation on Kitezh Origins covered in bruises but that is for the morning to worry about.