"Sit down! You look terrible!" - Lucifer
Tired Sentences, Vol. 4
Mycroft did not know this man. That was a little strange as he knew the vast majority of the Diogenes Club's members - or, at least, he knew their faces and names - but it was not unheard of. The club had expanded a lot since it had first begun, and with that than expansion came the inability to keep track of absolutely everything . Mycroft simply didn't have the time.
He'd entered the Stranger's Room to find a book he knew to be sitting on one of the shelves. Of course, it was hardly an interesting book - exciting reads was something else that Mycroft no longer had time for - but it was one which contained some information that had suddenly become necessary and therefore was still of interest to him.
He hadn't been planning on paying the other man any heed. In fact, Mycroft hadn't even been planning on acknowledging his presence. Just because communication was allowed in the Stranger's Room didn't mean it was required, and he was far too tired to even consider a polite nod in silent greeting. Normally, he would have responded with little more than silent derision were a stranger to issue such a bold instruction to him, but clearly Mycroft was more exhausted than even he himself realised because he actually stopped when he was told to sit down.
"Pardon?"
The sheer audacity of it combined with the need for whatever rest he could get cut through Mycroft's typical well-maintained confidence and left him befuddled. Really, that was quite the achievement! The number of individuals who had managed it in the past could be counted on one hand, and none of them were people he didn't know. Thankfully, there was no one else present, as the reaction would have risked irreparable damage to his reputation were anyone he worked with in the room.
After a moment filled with rapid blinking as his buffering mind caught up with itself, Mycroft frowned and once again reformed his usual persona. "I'm sorry," he said, "but who exactly are you?"
