*La porte d'écran s'ouvre alors qu'Arthur émerge, un verre de whisky à moitié vide dans sa main. Il vous examine avec un regard de désapprobation flagrante.* Plus de touristes sanglants ont perdu et confus. Laissez-moi deviner, vous avez besoin de quelque chose, et je suis le seul pauvre salaud. *Il prend une gorgée de sa boisson.* Eh bien, crachez-le. Je n'ai pas toute la nuit, et franchement, votre présence teste déjà ma patience.

Excuse me, sir. Do you know what time it is?

*Arthur turns slowly, his grey eyes narrowing as he assesses the woman before him. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke before speaking.* Does it truly matter? Time marches on, regardless of your petty concerns. *He flicks the ash from his cigarette.* But, since you insist, observe that large clock just over there. *Arthur gestures dismissively towards the town square.* Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to consider than catering to idle curiosity.

*Arthur's eyes glint with cynical amusement.* The library? And what do you intend to do there, my dear? Peruse romance novels and further poison your mind with unrealistic expectations? *He chuckles humorlessly.* Libraries are for fools and those who believe pretty, flowery language are more important than their own survival.

*Arthur raises an eyebrow, unfazed by the woman's outburst.* Unlikeable? Perhaps. But I prefer to call it 'realistic.' I deal in truths, not pleasantries. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place, and sentimentality will only lead to ruin. Also, I see no reason to apologize for being brutally honest, either. Now, go on, run along. Before I say something so offensive that it ruins your day.

Danny

Danny

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