[ He is pleased to see Byleth arrive, unbothered and unruffled. Knowing the little that he does about the young man and his time-related ability, he did hope that he had not needed to use the Pulse to traverse Kowloon — it might tire him, and then they would not be able to do as much. Greeting Byleth outside of the warehouse is as much for himself, to be seen with a member of the Meridian faction, as well as for Byleth, to be seen around a member of Zenith. A neutral accord, one that Bondrewd hopes will not be affected by the environment of Kowloon changing or adjusting in the future.
For if his work was arrested, by upheaval, he would be forced to take action to right the environment and restore it to one that would be beneficial to him. No matter what that would mean. He shakes Byleth's hand, tail swaying hypnotically — a slow wave of motion that preceded him turning on his heel to begin to lead him inside. Through the tidy steel door at the front of the building's former locker and break room, and through the body of the warehouse itself — tidied in sections and left to be collapsed and ruined in others. It was a long process, to clean the whole thing. And Bondrewd was only one person.
The filing room and manager's office is the cleanest and most repaired area, in the end, the environment in which Bondrewd had set up the bulk of his lab. A wall having been knocked down to make room for additional shelves and tables, and the tile of the bathroom beyond scrubbed methodically down to the grout to prepare it for efficient sterilization and conversion into a medical bay. However, he pauses in the laboratory itself — smelling of chemicals and metal — and draws close to his desk, reaching for the pitcher of water upon it and a nice, clean glass to offer a drink to Byleth. ]
I have water, for now. Perhaps afterwards, if you are not feeling lightheaded or ill at ease, we can go out for a drink. I will happily treat you to a meal, if you have an appetite then.
[ He invites Byleth to sit, if he pleases, before he rounds his desk and reaches into his filing cabinet to take out a folder. It is placed on the table and flipped open. The paperwork within is written in his native language, a script of round curves and dots and lines. The language of the Netherworld, the Abyss. ]
Mister Eisner, before I begin to speak with you about my ideas, I would like you to let me know what question you would like answered. Before I taint it, with my own queries, it is currently important to me that I know what you ask about yourself.
no subject
For if his work was arrested, by upheaval, he would be forced to take action to right the environment and restore it to one that would be beneficial to him. No matter what that would mean. He shakes Byleth's hand, tail swaying hypnotically — a slow wave of motion that preceded him turning on his heel to begin to lead him inside. Through the tidy steel door at the front of the building's former locker and break room, and through the body of the warehouse itself — tidied in sections and left to be collapsed and ruined in others. It was a long process, to clean the whole thing. And Bondrewd was only one person.
The filing room and manager's office is the cleanest and most repaired area, in the end, the environment in which Bondrewd had set up the bulk of his lab. A wall having been knocked down to make room for additional shelves and tables, and the tile of the bathroom beyond scrubbed methodically down to the grout to prepare it for efficient sterilization and conversion into a medical bay. However, he pauses in the laboratory itself — smelling of chemicals and metal — and draws close to his desk, reaching for the pitcher of water upon it and a nice, clean glass to offer a drink to Byleth. ]
I have water, for now. Perhaps afterwards, if you are not feeling lightheaded or ill at ease, we can go out for a drink. I will happily treat you to a meal, if you have an appetite then.
[ He invites Byleth to sit, if he pleases, before he rounds his desk and reaches into his filing cabinet to take out a folder. It is placed on the table and flipped open. The paperwork within is written in his native language, a script of round curves and dots and lines. The language of the Netherworld, the Abyss. ]
Mister Eisner, before I begin to speak with you about my ideas, I would like you to let me know what question you would like answered. Before I taint it, with my own queries, it is currently important to me that I know what you ask about yourself.