The letter had scarcely left Gabe's mouth before Skull cut off the end of it with his guess. "Detective."
"How can you tell someone's a detective just by looking?" Barney asked with a curious glance around the pedestrians dodging traffic as they tried to cross the road. Most of them wore coats against the chilly weather, and none of them particularly looked like they worked for the Dublin police force.
"Oh, I don't," Skull failed to explain. "I could. That man there is a Detective Inspector, for example. Probably not a very good one, though. Not too thorough."
He was pointing at a man on the corner of the sidewalk who didn't look any different from any of the other pedestrians, save for a brown weathered hat. Barney frowned, suddenly reminded of cop shows where the main characters could tell everything about a person with a glance. Good fun, but... not something that happened in real life. Skull was probably just having a laugh at Barney's expense.
"But I was referring to myself in this instance," Skull continued with what sounded like a smile. "I work as a detective. When I'm not working for the carnival, which, believe it or not, can get rather dull. It's how I afford my car. And it's almost definitely what my friend's word is, unless he's picked up a thing or two from me."
Barney shook his head in wonder. Did he somehow stumble right into a new television show? This whole ride was turning into a perfect story for his daughter.
~~
"Daddy!" Guild's daughter tugged at his arm one more time. "I really, really, really want a pony backpack! Please?"
It was easy to see Guild's inner turmoil on his face. The desire to make the little girl happy, and the duty to discover all he could about the man standing in front of him. Just go get the backpack, Ghastly silently encouraged him. You really don't want to know.
"I don't suppose I could get an estimate on how long I'll have to deal with you or your son?" Guild was back to his gruff self, and fortunately about to bring the conversation to an end. Even if he'd phrased his question in the absolute worst way possible. "Or whether I'll have to deal with any more of you in the near future?"
no subject
"How can you tell someone's a detective just by looking?" Barney asked with a curious glance around the pedestrians dodging traffic as they tried to cross the road. Most of them wore coats against the chilly weather, and none of them particularly looked like they worked for the Dublin police force.
"Oh, I don't," Skull failed to explain. "I could. That man there is a Detective Inspector, for example. Probably not a very good one, though. Not too thorough."
He was pointing at a man on the corner of the sidewalk who didn't look any different from any of the other pedestrians, save for a brown weathered hat. Barney frowned, suddenly reminded of cop shows where the main characters could tell everything about a person with a glance. Good fun, but... not something that happened in real life. Skull was probably just having a laugh at Barney's expense.
"But I was referring to myself in this instance," Skull continued with what sounded like a smile. "I work as a detective. When I'm not working for the carnival, which, believe it or not, can get rather dull. It's how I afford my car. And it's almost definitely what my friend's word is, unless he's picked up a thing or two from me."
Barney shook his head in wonder. Did he somehow stumble right into a new television show? This whole ride was turning into a perfect story for his daughter.
~~
"Daddy!" Guild's daughter tugged at his arm one more time. "I really, really, really want a pony backpack! Please?"
It was easy to see Guild's inner turmoil on his face. The desire to make the little girl happy, and the duty to discover all he could about the man standing in front of him. Just go get the backpack, Ghastly silently encouraged him. You really don't want to know.
"I don't suppose I could get an estimate on how long I'll have to deal with you or your son?" Guild was back to his gruff self, and fortunately about to bring the conversation to an end. Even if he'd phrased his question in the absolute worst way possible. "Or whether I'll have to deal with any more of you in the near future?"