milliways_bar | (no subject)

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This sickness is a stubborn thing, and Leopold has not been able to shake it yet.

He has, however, gotten things in order once more where his quarters, and himself, are concerned. Clean shaven and dressed appropriately, he is downstairs sitting at a table tinkering with something he found in his room.

It is some sort of electronic devise, a remote control of some sort he believes with no real idea how he came to that conclusion. Right now he has the whole thing disassembled and spread out on a table top. It is quite interesting and has proven a great distraction as he continues to free himself from his cold.

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A lot of people seem to be tinkering and Joe wanders over and nods to Leopold, "What are you working on?"

His accent is English but a little off.

Leopold looks up, shaking his head but smiling.

"I am not quite certain. A device of some sort. I found it in my room after some cleaning."

"It looks like something Dax would make. He's the best engineer I know,"

Joe nods to Leopold and leans down to get a better look.

"Oh?" Looking down at the pieces spread out over the table top he asks, "Would you any idea what it might be for? Or perhaps this, Dax would know?"

He sits down to look all the pieces over, "Perhaps a kind of receiver though I don't know for what."

"Hm, yes. It is obviously from far after my time. We don't have anything quite like this. Though I was fortunate enough to spend some time in an era that did." And it was quite the trip.

"We don't have anything exactly like that but some of the parts look a bit like what's in my radio."

"Interesting. What era are you from, sir?" he asks, looking the man over.

Joe mentions a year sometime in the 1940s, "And you?"

"Twenty Eighteen," he replies easily, and then frowns. "I beg your pardon, eighteen... eighteen seventy-six." He touches his temple, shaking his head at the odd mistake.

"My name is Leopold. Duke of Albany."

"Why the different dates?"

"I'm not quite sure. I seem to have caught the illness that has been going around. I was told by a member of security here that it is common, and can cause hallucinations." He sighs, really wishing he could be rid of it already.

"Oh, huh, how strange. I'll have to be careful of that though I do feel like I've got a cold or something. Though I've worked through them, it gets cold when you're flying."

"Yes, for all you know you may already have it. It's quite the odd ailment." Leopold himself isn't entirely convinced he's been afflicted. As far as he knows he hasn't had any hallucinations himself.

"Flying? Are you a pilot, then? What sort of craft?"

"I am, beautiful plane, a Spitfire,"

He then goes onto describe all the details and a few of the improvements Dax has made.

Leopold listens with rapt attention.

"Magnificent. The ingenuity of man is certainly something to behold," he says, impressed.

"It is, it really is."

"I should like to buy you a drink, good sir," he offers with a smile.

"Captain Joseph Sutherland and thank you, I could do with one."

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