David’s diary, private entries. Talbot Manor.
22 May. He’s come back again, that’s the third time this month. His visits have become more frequent, and our talks longer each night. He still requests, no, more so politely demands that he have his own file. I started one, but I’ve only filled in the barest known descriptions. I keep reminding him that his own book serves very much as his file yet he continues to insist otherwise.
12 July. He never seems ill at ease. I feel as though I know him, even after only a handful of his visits. He seems to want to talk of everything and nothing. He’ll sometimes ask me questions about things in my office, examining each item before respectfully returning it to the shelf. Naturally, we’ve conversed in French as well, at which he seemed pleased. I’ve tread my questions, careful to not delve into certain things or seem too invasive. L has has been nothing short of courteous and pleasant, and I try hard not to offend him with my Talamascan sensibilities. He holds a wealth of knowledge of which I drawn, and I look forward to each time he appears in my office. He never announces his presence beforehand and his visits can be somewhat erratic, but I appreciate them all the same.
10 August. There are times he comes twice in the same week, and then again it could be a month before I see him again. I take every opportunity to study the details of his face, his hair, his cadence, the way he moves around the room. Graceful and feline, that’s the way I would describe his movements. Seeing him briefly on the stage was one thing, but having observed him up close, in the flesh so to speak, is a very different thing. I appreciate every quiet intimate moment I get. The way he looks me in the eye can sometimes be a bit unnerving, as they are so very intense, but purposeful, like he’s hanging on every word that I say.
9 October. L did not stay long this visit. Only seemingly having enough time to commandeer my chair and leave a few boot scuffs on my desk.
4 January. He’s lying in the middle of the floor on my tiger skin rug, presumably asleep. How long he plans to shelter here, I don’t know. Of course I’ve made sure he will remain undisturbed. I’ve specifically instructed all of the household staff to avoid this room. I’ve hidden my own key and the only spare, as an extra precaution.
