Re: The Diplomat / The Waiter
The waiter just noticed Duke's strange speech pattern (maybe the preoccupation with his own was to blame) and he quirked a brow. 'Deepest darkness' seemed a little bit of a stretch, in his opinion, not that he was a poet himself. He flattened out his tray, not as a shield between them, but as a prop to set off a model. He moved his weight to the opposite hip, arms akimbo. "I would be surprised if any did," he replied, valiantly resisting the effort to make the other man wait while he came up with additional alliterations.
"Seems quite strange to me," he said, in his chipper tones, "why anyone would do any mischief on a train. Nowhere to run, is there. It isn't really all that tremendous, which is to say large." Putting out one white gloved hand, he made a show of straightening the chair across from Duke, as if that was all the busing the table required. The bartender at the other end of the car was occupied, and no one made impatient hand motions at the waiter to indicate a receipt or a refill. "Eventually one must be found out, no?"