After a few inquiries, I was shown into the office of the head record keeper. That individual listened carefully to my story, though he was so still and outwardly calm that I found myself fighting a temptation to make a face at him in mid sentence just to see if he was really paying attention. I have a hunch I would not do well in a formal educational environment.
“I see,” he said, once I had ground to a halt. “Well, your request seems reasonable. Aahz . . . Aahz . . . I don’t recall the name off-hand, but it does ring some sort of a bell. Oh well, we can check it easily enough. GRETTA!?” In response to his call, a young female Pervect appeared in the office door. She glanced quickly at Pookie who was leaning against the wall behind me, but except for that ignored my bodyguard as completely as the record keeper had.
“Yes sir?”
“Gretta, this is Mr. Skeeve. He’s trying to locate someone who might have been a student here. I’d like you to help him locate the appropriate file in the archives . . . if it exists. Mr. Skeeve, this is Gretta. She’s one of the apprentices here who helps us . . . is something wrong?” I had suddenly drawn back the hand I had been extending to shake hands with Gretta, and the record keeper had noted the move.
“Oh, nothing . . . really,” I said embarrassed. I quickly reached out and shook the offered hand. “It’s a . . . bad habit I learned from Aahz. I really should break it. You were saying?”
The record keeper ignored my efforts to cover the social gaff.
“What bad habit is that?”