Edgar looks down at his tea as he waits, and with his opposite hand parts the bandages around his mouth and lifts the cup to his lips. He's gotten adept enough at eating in public that, as long as there is something (see: a cup or hand) blocking the view of where he has parted his bandages, he can do it without much worry. Nobody has ever been nosy enough yet for it to be a problem.
The tea is splendid and it has a deeply nostalgic blend to it that helps to clear his mental fog, and put him into a more sharpened focus.
The great smiling creature before him is a king, he thinks. Or at least someone very important. So when Edgar approaches, he sweeps a bow most practiced and elegant, something evidently taught to him quite young. The departing pawn is not lost upon him, and the purpose of this line becomes immediately apparent, the great bubbling and foggy cauldron in front of him seeming to be some spawn-point for strange creatures and other seasonal tidbits and treats of a more, erm, odd nature. He's not sure he wants to put his hands in there.
"Your Highness," Edgar greets, then tips his head owlishly at the invitation. "Hm!" Edgar, who was quite a bit shorter than the Czar, came to stand a bit closer but not too close. "Might I ask you something, sir, before we commence? I won't take up too much time, as I see others are waiting." The doctor would clear his throat and straighten his tie. Goodness, this fellow had such a commanding presence and loud voice, it put his own baritone to shame.
"Would you mind if I asked you, with no disrespectful intention, what are you? From a medical and scientific standpoint, I have been moved into great curiosity..." His tones are wistful, and he cranes his neck upward to maintain, um. Eye contact. With the monocle.
The tea is splendid and it has a deeply nostalgic blend to it that helps to clear his mental fog, and put him into a more sharpened focus.
The great smiling creature before him is a king, he thinks. Or at least someone very important. So when Edgar approaches, he sweeps a bow most practiced and elegant, something evidently taught to him quite young. The departing pawn is not lost upon him, and the purpose of this line becomes immediately apparent, the great bubbling and foggy cauldron in front of him seeming to be some spawn-point for strange creatures and other seasonal tidbits and treats of a more, erm, odd nature. He's not sure he wants to put his hands in there.
"Your Highness," Edgar greets, then tips his head owlishly at the invitation. "Hm!" Edgar, who was quite a bit shorter than the Czar, came to stand a bit closer but not too close. "Might I ask you something, sir, before we commence? I won't take up too much time, as I see others are waiting." The doctor would clear his throat and straighten his tie. Goodness, this fellow had such a commanding presence and loud voice, it put his own baritone to shame.
"Would you mind if I asked you, with no disrespectful intention, what are you? From a medical and scientific standpoint, I have been moved into great curiosity..." His tones are wistful, and he cranes his neck upward to maintain, um. Eye contact. With the monocle.
You are on: Forums » General Roleplay » Trick or Treat: Palace Cemetery/The Czar