Local. Would it be? He'd certainly think so, hardly a bit of universal jargon, pardon the pun.
With the handcuffs gone, he wiggles his fingers delightedly and looks at them with absolute joy, as if just coming to terms with the wonderful, spectacular simplicity in having fingers that work and are no longer tied 'round behind his back where he can't use them - which is, of course, exactly what he's coming to terms with.
"Hang on, now, let me go and handle this," he mutters to the Guardswoman in what seems to him to be something of an expertly secretive tone and is in reality nothing of the sort. He puffs up and strides to the reception man, acting for all the world like how he'd envision someone in charge would act, and plants one hand on the desk as he leans forward confidentially.
"What you doing there? Reception? Working the good old desk, hm? Right fantastic at that, aren't you - " he hesitates and his eyes light on the small nametag pinned to the front of the man's uniform, "Walter. Walter, good name, right proper, that. Listen here, Walter, I'll tell you what: my friend and I - she's a bit lost, yeah? Bit out of arms, so to speak. Was just wondering - if it's not too much trouble, mind - if you had something along the lines of a, umm, any sort of report on this whole Rift business. Wouldn't happen to have something that lying about, would you?"
as;dlfkjas;lk i'm so sorry about wheatley
With the handcuffs gone, he wiggles his fingers delightedly and looks at them with absolute joy, as if just coming to terms with the wonderful, spectacular simplicity in having fingers that work and are no longer tied 'round behind his back where he can't use them - which is, of course, exactly what he's coming to terms with.
"Hang on, now, let me go and handle this," he mutters to the Guardswoman in what seems to him to be something of an expertly secretive tone and is in reality nothing of the sort. He puffs up and strides to the reception man, acting for all the world like how he'd envision someone in charge would act, and plants one hand on the desk as he leans forward confidentially.
"What you doing there? Reception? Working the good old desk, hm? Right fantastic at that, aren't you - " he hesitates and his eyes light on the small nametag pinned to the front of the man's uniform, "Walter. Walter, good name, right proper, that. Listen here, Walter, I'll tell you what: my friend and I - she's a bit lost, yeah? Bit out of arms, so to speak. Was just wondering - if it's not too much trouble, mind - if you had something along the lines of a, umm, any sort of report on this whole Rift business. Wouldn't happen to have something that lying about, would you?"
Walter looks at him blankly.
"What?"