thefearlessgingerexplorer starte...d....following....you....
(Oh dear, he was most terribly late - late - late. Not to sound like a character from the endearing Lewis's pages, but he really should have been at that 'discussion' regarding finding a ((hopefully more trustworthy than before)) butler for assistance with things half an hour ago. He'd been so preoccupied with Angela, and the interesting history of Montedor that he'd lost track of time! Even if he was late, though, he really found he didn't regret it.
To catch up on lost time: well, he didn't mind putting off 'work' affairs a little for that, even if he wouldn't verbally admit it to anyone. Still, the fact remained that he should hurry, and his stride across the streets was more quicker-paced than normal, almost hurried: though perhaps in retrospect, making his patient form try to move fast was not a good idea.
It wasn't a good idea at all, for he'd bumped into a stranger much shorter than himself in the process, biting back a few choice words at his glasses falling off with a noisy clatter. Blast it all, he actually needed those to see...moving a hand around somewhat blindly for them, he eventually touched the familar, almost comforting frame.
Though, when he replaced the glasses and saw who he'd bumped into...he wondered if his glasses were actually broken. That was....no, it couldn't be. This couldn't be Randall...the Randall he knew should be around his own age, but this was a teenager, still a child, as it were. Perhaps this boy just LOOKED an awful lot like him. Yes, that had to be it.)
"Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry for bumping into you, young man. I do apologize. ...Might I ask the name of who I bumped into, so I might apologize properly?"
(Asking his name seemed a quick way to sort this befuddlement out. That and, once he knew the boy's name, he could apologize better, as he himself said.)
