07-10-2016, 05:21 PM
"As often as folks come looking around for something that doesn't belong to them."
If it sounded like a warning, it didn't show in the old fellow's face. He seemed thoroughly disinterested in William's explanation, regarding the youth for the duration of his exhuberance before switching to Margot and her question. The shotgun, a long barreled more serviceable to skeet shooting or duck hunting back during the early 1900s, was held by the butt and kept over one shoulder, with evidence of it being loaded difficult to surmise beyond the possibility of shell rims sticking out from behind where the barrels hinged out from the stock. The man's facial hair twitched side to side, eyes lazily traversing the pair even as he began to speak.
"I don't get a lot of visitors, least of all college students, least of all individuals in college looking to study the Mohawk and the Aztecs, two decidedly different cultures with wildly different interactions on modern society, barring the Ritual killing both performed. What classes are you taking? At which school? Who are your teachers, maybe I know them-" Arturo's free hand comes up to stroke and scrape at his facial hair, eyes roving upward slightly to try and recall some names. "-though they may have retired by now."
A pause.
"Regardless, coming to someone's front door in search of information isn't the best of approaches. You're better off finding yourselves some Teacher or Professor, which I most certainly am not. " Another pause, the eyes behind those glasses narrowing a touch further. "This a thesis? A project paper? Did someone put you up to this specifically?"
If it sounded like a warning, it didn't show in the old fellow's face. He seemed thoroughly disinterested in William's explanation, regarding the youth for the duration of his exhuberance before switching to Margot and her question. The shotgun, a long barreled more serviceable to skeet shooting or duck hunting back during the early 1900s, was held by the butt and kept over one shoulder, with evidence of it being loaded difficult to surmise beyond the possibility of shell rims sticking out from behind where the barrels hinged out from the stock. The man's facial hair twitched side to side, eyes lazily traversing the pair even as he began to speak.
"I don't get a lot of visitors, least of all college students, least of all individuals in college looking to study the Mohawk and the Aztecs, two decidedly different cultures with wildly different interactions on modern society, barring the Ritual killing both performed. What classes are you taking? At which school? Who are your teachers, maybe I know them-" Arturo's free hand comes up to stroke and scrape at his facial hair, eyes roving upward slightly to try and recall some names. "-though they may have retired by now."
A pause.
"Regardless, coming to someone's front door in search of information isn't the best of approaches. You're better off finding yourselves some Teacher or Professor, which I most certainly am not. " Another pause, the eyes behind those glasses narrowing a touch further. "This a thesis? A project paper? Did someone put you up to this specifically?"