"Do I look like a doctor?" Elton says.
He sort of looks like a doctor of the occult sciences—he even has a spooky British accent, though you think it's a working class accent, not a fancy one—but you probably shouldn't say any of that.
"My friend ate some bad meat," you say. "It came from here."
The young scholar's skepticism wars with his curiosity.
"Well, this isn't the sort of conversation two gentlemen should have on the street. If you're willing to drink tea with a Shadow Lord, you can tell me about your friend's ill-considered diet."
He steps past you to a narrow door and takes out an elaborate brass key.
"Why are you dressed like a dracula?"
"Why do you sound like the butler in that show?"
"Why do you smell like a dog that learned to smoke?"
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