The Meeting of Minds

JP with Omni and Zeeke

May 9, 1889
Paris, France
Ellington Residence

Tristen arrived to the house slightly early so he could walk the block once. Some would call it casing the place but he had no intention of robbing it. It was just a habit he had. It's always good to know your way out if the front door became blocked for some reason, like the Sûreté. Being a Lord had its privileges. The common officer would need to check with his betters before even questioning one of his standing.

He tipped his hat, pausing to let the women pass. The scent of perfume, the bounce of curls, made him wish that he was in his twenties again. Not that his age slowed down those desires or abilities. it was just not proper to show them,

Pulling out his pocket watch, he checked the time. This was not India, and time mattered. With a click of his heals and a tap of his cane, he made it to the front door. Pulling out a card from his vest pocket, which allowed him to call.

Knocking on the door with the head of his cane. He waited for the door to be opened.

In the parlor Dumont stood attentively as Harvey took to get the door. A moment later he was leading the new guest into the house and taking his hat to hang up.

“Lord Andrews. This is Monsieur Dumont. Would you two care for a beverage while you get to know one another?”

“Oui, s'il vous plait.” replied Dumont, answering for Tristin.

“Very well.” said Harvey and he was off to grab cocktails.

“Good day, mon Seigneur. Comment faites-vous? How do you do?” Dumont greeted him formally with a small bow.

"Monsieur Dumont, It is a pleasure to meet you," He said with a smile looking the man in the eyes.

His mind was like a clock work gears trying hard to place the man and where he belonged in the world. The struggle was that Victorian etiquette for small talk required no topic that might cause debate of deep discussion.

"Your accent places you from around Paris..." Tristin said moving closer to Dumont and a set of chairs. He indicated that they should sit and talk.

"I myself, have spent some time down along the southern coast," Tristin said giving a little information trying to gauge the man.

"The accent never came to me and the headmaster would pull his hair and beat my hands with the pointer," Tristen said laughing as if this was a common experience for everyone.

Dumont took the cue and sat down with the thief lord.

“Oui. Paris was my cour de récréation... emm… my playground. And you? I detect a hint of foreign influence on your English. Not French… Not Russian… India?”

Dumont didn’t need to ask, he had already been briefed on the thief, but a good spy does his best to confirm intelligence and gauge responses. He could see the gentleman and he could see the thief, the tell was in the hungry eyes that cased the room for possible treasures. Dumont himself had a habit of noting the valuables in a room and all points of egress. A moment later Harvey returned bearing a tray with two wine glasses full of a fizzy red-amber liquid.

“Ah.” smiled Dumont. ’Qu'avons-nous ici?’ he thought to himself.

Dumont took a glass and gave it a taste with his olfactory senses first, following it with a sip. He licked his lips.

“Quinquina… bitters… dry champagne? Chilled.” He held up the glass and studied the fizzy liquid. “Cube of sugar, dashed with a spiral of lemon peel,” deduced Dumont.

“Very good, sir. Dubonnet Rouge… Angostura… and quite correct, Perrier-Jouët. A little cocktail recipe I conjured up whilst in Spain. I call it the ‘Alfonso.’ I do hope you enjoy.” Harvey said as he stared at the two men with his hands behind his back. “I’ll give the pair of you some more time to get better acquainted and later I can show you to your rooms.”