The First Confidant
"Yes, milord. But… how—ah, never mind," Tucker Fole seemed to swallow whatever question he had.
The Original had never talked to this handler much, as far as Mattheus could tell, but it was apparent the businessman was not that clever or quick-witted where it counted. He didn't even need Brunilda to tell him whether it was faked or not, the experience with looking at another's complexion as one of the initial assessments of a patient's health told him enough.
Tucker Fole had broken into a cold sweat shortly after the young baron had spoken his name when the businessman was otherwise healthy.
It didn't matter that the society member could not maintain eye contact with him and seemed to settle his gaze on the vicinity of his coat lapels. He wasn't asking Fole questions considering the circumstances.