these books aren’t just going to pop into your post. And, for godsakes, get some trousers on – I feel as though I've just barged into Bobby the Child Adventurer's bedroom.”
I was livid. He had left his shoulder bag on the bed. It felt greasy, just how I pictured everything Angelo owned to be - his objects a perfect match for his wretched character. I slapped the bag against his chest and stretched out a finger, expecting him to follow the direction it was pointing at: out.
He smirked and said, “You’re making a big mistake, mate. I’m not trying to be cute with you, and I can assure you that despite my gruff appearance and manner that I am no ignoramus as you may have assumed. I act only out of necessity. You may think you have it all figured out, that you don’t need my assistance… and so be it. But I can tell you that arrogance will only bring you so far, and after that, well, you may need your wits about you. What I mean to say, my good Gimaldi, is that you know squat about what you are getting into, and if it were up to me I would have chosen a much better equipped candidate. As it stands, you will make enemies fast, and I can assure you that you will either become a liability or a corpse.”
Angelo seemed to step out of what could now be called a comedic façade, and was standing before me with a sudden surge of personal gravity.
“What are you saying, Angelo?”
“In our occupation, we need to craft and cultivate a series of masks to suit all occasions, a face for all seasons. Our art is that of subtlety, stealth, and anonymity. If you come flaunting your self-important intellect in all its silly ego rigidity, you are asking to be noticed. Note well the success of the ninja: they were silent workers, and could blend seamlessly into any situation, among any kind of people, speaking any kind of dialect. Take me, for instance. I know eleven languages. I can speak ‘street’ with as much ease as any native-born speaker of the dialect, just as I can perfectly mimic the dialect of an Oxfordian economics professor or a Grecian dockworker. This is the first lesson that one must learn: talk may be cheap, but it gets you into and out of everything. You want unlimited access? You want minimal detection? You need to relearn the art of speaking. I can guarantee you that if you and I wanted to get a limited access manuscript at the Bibliotheque Verillons , I would succeed and you would fail because I would know how to chat up the lowly clerk or the highbrow librarian officer. You, on the other hand, would protest in the only way you know how, completely disregarding the sensitivity of the situation by stamping your foot in petulant outrage with demands, thinking yourself entitled as if your academic affiliation was some kind of noble birthright. You see, rhetoric is part of our trade, and so greases the wheels of acquisition. I could already tell the first moment you set foot in Castellemare’s flat, casting your eyes on me, that you assumed I was some ignorant flunky footman who procured his position by mere luck alone - or that I was the gruff hired help, some kind of leg-breaker or scheming weasel. Of course, if Castellemare asked me to break your legs, I'd be fully capable of doing so. Cast any aspersions you like, but you are always being tested. You are proof that I can fool all the people all of the time. It is not only the library that is infinite potentiality. I suppose now that I am speaking in the phrasings of a more refined individual you feel that you can warm up to me… that we share some kind of common set of values and interests. Be wary of this, too, for you will only be enamoured with a mere affectation, a facet of my person, and ultimately your own narcissism. If you wish to extend your friendliness to me, you must accept that I am always much more than I seem in any given moment. Don't get any silly ideas that we're going to be pals palavering over Plato, mind you. I see right through your
I was livid. He had left his shoulder bag on the bed. It felt greasy, just how I pictured everything Angelo owned to be - his objects a perfect match for his wretched character. I slapped the bag against his chest and stretched out a finger, expecting him to follow the direction it was pointing at: out.
He smirked and said, “You’re making a big mistake, mate. I’m not trying to be cute with you, and I can assure you that despite my gruff appearance and manner that I am no ignoramus as you may have assumed. I act only out of necessity. You may think you have it all figured out, that you don’t need my assistance… and so be it. But I can tell you that arrogance will only bring you so far, and after that, well, you may need your wits about you. What I mean to say, my good Gimaldi, is that you know squat about what you are getting into, and if it were up to me I would have chosen a much better equipped candidate. As it stands, you will make enemies fast, and I can assure you that you will either become a liability or a corpse.”
Angelo seemed to step out of what could now be called a comedic façade, and was standing before me with a sudden surge of personal gravity.
“What are you saying, Angelo?”
“In our occupation, we need to craft and cultivate a series of masks to suit all occasions, a face for all seasons. Our art is that of subtlety, stealth, and anonymity. If you come flaunting your self-important intellect in all its silly ego rigidity, you are asking to be noticed. Note well the success of the ninja: they were silent workers, and could blend seamlessly into any situation, among any kind of people, speaking any kind of dialect. Take me, for instance. I know eleven languages. I can speak ‘street’ with as much ease as any native-born speaker of the dialect, just as I can perfectly mimic the dialect of an Oxfordian economics professor or a Grecian dockworker. This is the first lesson that one must learn: talk may be cheap, but it gets you into and out of everything. You want unlimited access? You want minimal detection? You need to relearn the art of speaking. I can guarantee you that if you and I wanted to get a limited access manuscript at the Bibliotheque Verillons , I would succeed and you would fail because I would know how to chat up the lowly clerk or the highbrow librarian officer. You, on the other hand, would protest in the only way you know how, completely disregarding the sensitivity of the situation by stamping your foot in petulant outrage with demands, thinking yourself entitled as if your academic affiliation was some kind of noble birthright. You see, rhetoric is part of our trade, and so greases the wheels of acquisition. I could already tell the first moment you set foot in Castellemare’s flat, casting your eyes on me, that you assumed I was some ignorant flunky footman who procured his position by mere luck alone - or that I was the gruff hired help, some kind of leg-breaker or scheming weasel. Of course, if Castellemare asked me to break your legs, I'd be fully capable of doing so. Cast any aspersions you like, but you are always being tested. You are proof that I can fool all the people all of the time. It is not only the library that is infinite potentiality. I suppose now that I am speaking in the phrasings of a more refined individual you feel that you can warm up to me… that we share some kind of common set of values and interests. Be wary of this, too, for you will only be enamoured with a mere affectation, a facet of my person, and ultimately your own narcissism. If you wish to extend your friendliness to me, you must accept that I am always much more than I seem in any given moment. Don't get any silly ideas that we're going to be pals palavering over Plato, mind you. I see right through your
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