J&L: Jagowl & Litepaw (6)

Home of George Litefoot

*frantic banging on a door*

Litefoot: "What the devil? Who could that be, at this hour? It's three in the morning! Some drunken wastrel no doubt. He'll soon tire and move on, with any luck."

*knocking continues insistently*

Litefoot: *shouting* "Come now, please desist from hammering upon my door or I shall be forced to alert the authorities. You are trespassing upon privately owned property, and at a most unreasonable hour to boot."

Jago: "George?! Is that any way to speak to a friend?"

Litefoot: "Perhaps, when said friend arrives upon my doorstep unannounced in the dead of night."

Jago: "I apologize most profusely for my conduct. I offer you my most sincere expiations, but this is a matter that couldn't wait until first light. Say, could you open this door? I feel a bit, exposed, standing out here."

Litefoot: "Of course, of course. Just allow me to slip on a dressing gown. It doesn't become a gentleman to greet a visitor in a nightshirt and cap."

Jago: *quietly* "OK Henry, keep your cool. There's probably some medical explanation for this... if anything can help it's the cogent & considered consultation of Professor Litefoot. Though I doubt even he has seen anything quite like..."

*A bolt is drawn back before the door creaks open*

Litefoot: "Come inside, Henry. You'll catch your death out there. At least you wrapped yourself up quite thoroughly, I can't even make out your face beneath that hood and cape."

Jago: "I had no choice really. Couldn't be seen walking the streets without such opaque obscuring attire."

Litefoot: "Why ever not? Oh Henry, you're not in financial difficulties again are you? What thuggish member of the criminal classes is coming for you now?"

Jago: "This is no mere problem of pecuniary peril, Professor. I'm afraid I've been inflicted by some terrible curse, a malign malady manifesting as some monstrous metamorphosis."

Litefoot: "Whatever do you mean? You'd best take off that cloak so I can examine you."

Jago: "Don't say I didn't warn you."

*Rustling of cloth as the cape is removed*

Litefoot: "My word! This is some kind of trick. Must be, and in poor taste at that. You came all the way here at this hour just to show off a costume?"

Jago: "This is no costume. I've been bursting out in feathers all evening."

Litefoot: "But it's ridiculous! Impossible. You're covered, head to toe in tawny feathers. Your eyes appear recessed, sunken into your unnaturally rounded face. Your normally red complexioned nose is yellowed, curved and sharpened into what I can only describe as a beak."

Jago: "Not to mention my arms, that are rapidly becoming wings! At this rate, I'll be called Henry Gordon Jagowl by daybreak."

Litefoot: "At least you'll be able to make yourself a star attraction on the stage. People will flock to see the remarkable bird man."

Jago: "Dash it all George, this is no time for levity. What's happening to me, and more pertinently, can it be reversed?"

Litefoot: "I wish I could answer you, old friend, but this is somewhat beyond me. I doubt it's even of this Earth."

Jago: "So I'm just the hapless victim of an alien disease, hopeless doomed to spend my waning days in an aviary?"

Litefoot: "I'll do what I can Henry. But I'll need to run some tests. Grab your coat, we're going to my lab."

Jago: "Don't you have any medical supplies here? I don't relish the thought of spending more time in public, looking like this."

Litefoot: "The mortuary is secluded, and possesses more useful equipment. Besides, we hardly want Mrs. Hudson to see you in this state. Just give me a few moments to get dressed."

St. Bart's Mortuary

Litefoot: "Here we are, none the worse for wear."

Jago: "Speak for yourself. Oh, the stress of skulking about has really ruffled my feathers. Er, no pun intended."

Litefoot: "Hmm, where to even begin?"

Jago: "Whoot could be behind this anyway? I mean hoot. Who!"

Litefoot: "Curious, whatever is causing your physical alterations is also affecting your vocal chords."

Jago: "All the more reason to get to work before I'm too busy chirping to talk back."

Litefoot: "Indeed. And to answer your question, I'd be leaning towards Mr Lambert as the culprit. You saw those poor unfortunate people in his carnival freak show. The chap with eagle vision and the boy with lobster arms. Somehow, he's spreading animalistic traits onto humans, for use in his ghoulish displays."

Jago: "I for one won't be a performing monkey for that twisted cove. Mark my words."

Litefoot: "Not if I have any say in the matter..."

*A door swings open, as Gustav bursts in, whistling*

Gustav: "Oh! Excuse me, Professor. I didn't expect to see you here so early."

Litefoot: "Nor I you, frankly. What are you doing here?"

Gustav: "I merely sought to arrive so as to perform a few menial tasks before official hours. Disinfecting instruments and the like. I wish to make up for yesterday's absence."

Litefoot: "Well, as you can see, I'm somewhat indisposed at present, so..."

Gustav: "Don't worry. I'll keep your secret. Gentleman caller, late night, I'm not one to judge, though the bird costume is original."

Litefoot: "Whatever it is that you are insinuating, is a fabrication. You don't understand. This is a friend of mine, who is unwell, and... *sigh* No point in avoiding the truth. You've seen too much. He's been afflicted with some kind of malady, causing a transmogrification into some form of hybrid."

Gustav: "Like an avian flu?"

Jago: "This is no time for jokes boy. My very fate hangs in the balance."

Gustav: "Sorry. Look, I actually majored in exotic diseases, I'll see if I can't help diagnose your friend. But first, I think we all need a cup of tea."

Litefoot: "I hardly think this is the time."

Gustav: "I shall brew it, Professor. I know what it's like, treating a friend. But that bond can cloud your judgement. A good cup should lend us fresh perspective. Back in a jiffy."

Jago: "So, that's your shady apprentice, eh? He seems a nice lad."

Litefoot: "True, though I can't shake the feeling that his reason for being here is flimsy."

Jago: "Beggars can't be choosers. If he can shed any insight on my condition, it'll be worth it."

Litefoot: "I hope you're right."