Barnaby tilted his head curiously at the thought of being brought to the constabulary - or, well, going of his own free will, because there was no way he could conceive that mangy fellow was going to wrest him into livings’ handcuffs, or so much as down the street. But perhaps he could trail along after him just to rub that point in, give an audience to his crime-catching; and Barnaby was being sarcastic here, because as far as he could see no proper crime had been committed yet.
But Greengrass was asking him something, so Barnaby floated up a little, bouncing as if he could on the balls of his feet. “Yes,” Barnaby said, perfectly affably. “It’s a loathsome place. A simple spell should do it.” He shot the building a dirty look over his shoulder, willing it to spontaneously combust if he could not convince Greengrass to do it - though he did not give any further explanation either, a little distracted from his honourable pursuit by another curiosity.
“What’s his name, then?” Barnaby added, with a slight air of and who does he think he is. As if his subject was not obvious, he pulled the ghost-rapier out from his ribs and used it to point carelessly at the disagreeable lamp-leaner, aiming it vaguely under his chin (not that it could do anything if he plunged it further; not that he had ruled it out). Barnaby probably could have asked this question of the constable himself, but he did not always deign to talk to people he didn’t like.
But Greengrass was asking him something, so Barnaby floated up a little, bouncing as if he could on the balls of his feet. “Yes,” Barnaby said, perfectly affably. “It’s a loathsome place. A simple spell should do it.” He shot the building a dirty look over his shoulder, willing it to spontaneously combust if he could not convince Greengrass to do it - though he did not give any further explanation either, a little distracted from his honourable pursuit by another curiosity.
“What’s his name, then?” Barnaby added, with a slight air of and who does he think he is. As if his subject was not obvious, he pulled the ghost-rapier out from his ribs and used it to point carelessly at the disagreeable lamp-leaner, aiming it vaguely under his chin (not that it could do anything if he plunged it further; not that he had ruled it out). Barnaby probably could have asked this question of the constable himself, but he did not always deign to talk to people he didn’t like.
