[Monty is carrying a small sack of fresh-picked vegetables from the greenhouse when he returns home. Alfie standing there has him stopping a good 10 feet away. His expression is neutral and his tone, when he speaks is entirely deadpan.]
That did not cross my mind, Mr. Solomons. One need not kill to cause harm, though. I'll ask you again, will you be attempting to break my things or harm me in some manner?
[Monty is dubious, but given that he doesn't want to have a shouting match out in the open, he supposes inside it is. He produces a key and approaches the door, gesturing for Alfie to move so that he can unlock it and step inside. The gentleman's abode is a humble one. Alfie may recognize it as something that would not be out of place in the poorer quarters of London. The only items of note and value appear to be a portrait of his mother hung on one wall, a Spanish guitar below it, and the Sword of Truth lying on his bed in the corner.]
[It's interesting that he's willing to, Alfie thinks. He certainly wouldn't have, in his position - unless, of course, he was preparing an attack of his own. A hidden knife, maybe, like the pistol that Alfie himself usually keeps in his coat pocket? For that reason, Alfie heads for the couch instead of immediately trying something rougher - which is unfortunate, because getting rough was literally the only reason why he'd come. But that's okay, he thinks; he can work with this. He'll improvise. Try to get him off his guard first, and make him think he's only here to talk.]
Tell me, mate--
[He says, taking a seat.]
Have you always been a fuck-up, or is this a new development?
[The swearing grates on Monty's nerves, but he doesn't respond immediately. He takes his sack to the table near the stove and sets that down before moving to seat himself in a chair across from Alfie. Only once he's settled does he reply.]
I accomplished my goal of temporarily transforming you into a fox. I would not call that a failure, Mr. Solomons. You really should mind your locks more closely.
It inconvenienced you without harming you in any extended way, save perhaps your pride. I had hoped you might learn something of what it was to have a fox's instincts, as well. That is all.
Yeah - yeah, I did. It taught me that a fox's instincts are far more difficult to overcome than I'd assumed, and that I had even more reason than I thought I did to be wary of people who've got them.
[He raises his eyebrows.]
You're not as stupid as you look, Navarro; surely you could have predicted that. Why didn't you?
No, I want you to work through the logic here. This isn't a question of empathy. Renart tells me she's dangerous, which causes me to worry about what danger she may pose to Emily, and in response you give me all the more reason to believe she might be dangerous. And you truly expected that to make me see her as less dangerous?
I am asking what you would do after that, sir. What would be your recourse? Had I, miraculously, been able to turn you into a fox forever, would you separate yourself from Ms. Emily permanently for such a transgression?
That is not what I asked, Mr. Solomons. You seem to be allergic to responding to the questions asked of you. Has redirection always been your favored defensive tactic?
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Will you be biting my ankle again, Mr. Solomons?
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[He says, polite on the surface - but only on the surface.]
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[Shoving him up against a wall doesn't count as harming, right? Clearly.]
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[Monty is dubious, but given that he doesn't want to have a shouting match out in the open, he supposes inside it is. He produces a key and approaches the door, gesturing for Alfie to move so that he can unlock it and step inside. The gentleman's abode is a humble one. Alfie may recognize it as something that would not be out of place in the poorer quarters of London. The only items of note and value appear to be a portrait of his mother hung on one wall, a Spanish guitar below it, and the Sword of Truth lying on his bed in the corner.]
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Tell me, mate--
[He says, taking a seat.]
Have you always been a fuck-up, or is this a new development?
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I accomplished my goal of temporarily transforming you into a fox. I would not call that a failure, Mr. Solomons. You really should mind your locks more closely.
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[He raises his eyebrows.]
You're not as stupid as you look, Navarro; surely you could have predicted that. Why didn't you?
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I don't know what you're asking, mate. I'd take responsibility. Accept that I had done it.
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[He crosses his legs and reclines in his chair, exuding the air of a bored, well-to-do young fop.]
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