Title: lovely weather we're having, isn't it?

Summary: The age-old starter of non-conversation suddenly becomes a large part of Vetinari's life, as do talking boxes and brightly painted bits of metal that go vroom.

Warnings: None, except that it's really weird.

Chapter 4: August 28: Partly cloudy, highs in the upper 70s

The doorbell sounded clear and bright within 12 Demilune Drive, and it was but a moment before the door was opened. It was an elderly woman who answered the door— well preserved and quite pretty, but obviously elderly all the same—and Gavin greeted her politely.

"Good morning, ma'am," he said. "My name is Gavin de Becker, of Gavin de Becker and Associates. Have you heard of my company?"

"Uh, no, actually."

"That's fine. My company advises clients on the assessment and management of situations that might escalate to violence. I'm here about a man named Havelock Vetinari. Is he renting a room from you?"

"Yes he is," she said, looking slightly worried. "Um, come in. I'm Marisa. Marisa Fiorentini. And they are…?"

"Robert Wilson," Robert volunteered. "I work with Mr. Vetinari. And this is Sylvia. She hired him."

"Oh really? What does he do? He never told me."

"He's a meteorologist," Sylvia said, exchanging worried glances with Robert.

"Really? And to think I never knew… Please, sit. Anybody want something to drink?"

The inside of the Fiorentinis' house was capacious and cheerful. Sylvia sat at the table in the kitchen, smoothing out the flower-print tablecloth. The two men followed suit. Marisa interrupted her bustle only to ask her husband to come in, and then she went back to pouring drinks and getting ice cubes out of their container.

"So, how did Mr. Vetinari come to rent a room from you, um, Andy, is it?" Gavin asked.

"Well, it's kind of weird," Mr. Fiorentini said. "Marisa and I, we were driving along one night, and he just kind of popped out of nowhere on the side of the road. Of course Marisa's always inviting strays into the house, we had another one only last month, so we pulled over. He seemed a bit confused, and we just brought him home. Oh, and Thursday he offered to pay us for the room."

"That was his first day of work," Sylvia said. "We gave him the advance he asked for. Five day's work. Well, ten hours, anyway. He's only expected to work two hours a day. Though yesterday he worked for eight hours, so I guess we're even."

"How much did he pay you?" Gavin asked.

"200 dollars," said Andy. "He said he wasn't intending to stay too long."

"200 dollars?" echoed Sylvia. "That's what we paid him."

"Um, good," said Andy.

"I mean, that's all we paid him. What's he spending on clothing? Food?"

Andy looked confused. "He's not buying food?"

Marisa came to the table with a tray of cookies. "He's not buying food? No wonder he's so thin!"

"I've never seen him eat anything," said Robert. "Not even an M&M."

"We gave him some of my old clothes, though," said Andy. "You should've seen what he had on when he got here…"

"But what's he eating?" said Marisa.

"What was he wearing when he got here?" asked Gavin.

"A dress," said Andy, grinning.

"A dress? Like, with frills and stuff?" said Robert.

"Don't tease," said Marisa reprovingly. "They were robes. Like for priests and stuff."

"He's a priest?" said Robert.

"What did he say when you met?" Gavin asked.

"Um. He said hello, and could we tell him where he was."

"And you said…?"

"And we said New Columbia. And he asked what time it was. And we told him. Eight thirty, was it?"

"I think so," said Marisa. "Then we asked if he was lost."

"And he said yes, he thought so, and Marisa offered to let him stay at our house."

"Yeah, so we brought him home."

"He was acting really funny though. He kept staring out the windows, like he wasn't used to trees or something."

"What?" said Gavin. "Trees?"

"Well, yeah. There were trees on the side of the road."

"He wasn't used to them?"

"It seemed like it. He was staring at something through the window."

"How odd," said Gavin. "How has he behaved at your house?"

"He's been really quiet," said Marisa. "We hardly ever see him."

"Does he seem dangerous to you? In any way?"

"Yeah… Well, no. I mean, it's not like he's done anything."

"You said Yes first, Mrs. Fiorentini. That's very important."

"Please, call me Marisa."

"Okay, Marisa. Why did you say Yes first?"

"Well, you know. He sort of… sneaks up on you, and you don't even know he's there until he tells you. Gives me a heart attack sometimes."

"Has he ever threatened you in any way?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"How about you, Mr. Fiorentini? Has he ever threatened you?"

"No."

"Okay," said Gavin, nodding. He closed his notebook. It was a sign of just how good of a note-taker he was that until this point, none of the others at the table had even noticed he'd been taking notes at all. "Is Mr. Vetinari home?"

"Actually, I don't know," said Marisa. "It's not like he ever makes a sound, the door's always closed, and when he leaves or comes back, I never hear him. We could check, I guess," she added doubtfully.

"That would be great," said Gavin, standing.

Marisa led them up the stairs and all the way down the hall, where she knocked on the last door. It opened on silent hinges, where all the other doors in the house had creaked cheerfully when they swung. The room beyond was mostly dark. In the gloom was Havelock Vetinari, wearing what appeared to be a dark T-shirt and pants. The color was indistinguishable, but after seeing what Vetinari had been wearing the past three days, Robert and Sylvia could make a pretty good guess.

They were right, of course—Vetinari turned on a small, floral lamp, which didn't illuminate much but, for a moment, revealed the black fabric of his shirt. Then he moved away from the light, back towards the door.

"Havelock," said Marisa, which made all the others gape. "You have some visitors."

"Actually," said Gavin, "could I speak with him alone?"

The others agreed after some discussion, and Gavin went in. The others stared at the shut door with some nervousness. Vetinari hadn't said a word.

Inside the room, Vetinari nodded at Gavin in greeting. "Mr. de Becker," he said.

"Have we met?" asked Gavin.

"No, but I've read your book and recognized you from your picture in the back."

"Ah. Which one?"

"The Gift of Fear. It raises quite interesting points."

"Do you agree with them?"

"…Some," said Vetinari noncommittally. "Please have a seat."

Gavin sat on a chair. He noticed it was yellow and had flowers all over it.

"I apologize for the dark, but I'm afraid I don't get much light in the morning. It's quite bright in the late afternoon, though." Vetinari sat on the bed. The covers had roses on them.

"That's okay. Do you mind if I open the curtains anyway?"

"Go ahead," said Vetinari. The lamp clicked off.

Gavin stood and brushed aside the curtain, which was—surprise, surprise—heavily bedecked with flowers. Feeble light dribbled into the room. Satisfied, Gavin sat back down and looked around the now partially illuminated room. There were no papers on the small desk, no belongings on the floor. It looked like a classic guest room, impersonal despite all of the host's best efforts to spruce it up. It was a universal law that a guest room always looked forbidding, no matter how many flowers are in the furniture, because a room without a permanent owner had no personality. Vetinari hadn't even bothered trying to personalize it, which meant that the room not only looked like a guest room, it looked like a guest room that no one ever lived in. There wasn't even a sock on the chair, even though there almost always is one in a bachelor's room.

"Let me get straight to the point, Mr. Vetinari," said Gavin. "Your coworkers are worried about you."

"Really," said Vetinari.

"Oh yes. They feel you might've snuck weapons into the workplace. Have you?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" asked Gavin incredulously.

"Let's just say that I'm a bit paranoid," said Vetinari.

"But this is a crime!"

"Is it?" asked Vetinari.

"You can't take weapons into a public facility, Mr. Vetinari."

"Can't I?"

"No."

"And I could get arrested for this, could I?"

"Yes!"

"…Actually, I'm quite convinced that I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because no one's actually seen me do it."

"But you just admitted it."

"I notice you've forgotten to turn on your tape recorder," said Vetinari.

Gavin stared. Without taking his eyes off Vetinari, he reached down to the tape recorder, which he'd set surreptitiously on the carpet, and pressed the record button. The tape began rolling.

"Mr. Vetinari," he said slowly. "Have you snuck weapons past the metal detectors at News19 studios?"

"No," he said, flashing a quick, bright smile.

"I see," said Gavin. He stood up and began pacing. "Have you ever intentionally hurt someone?"

"Yes, of course."

Gavin stopped pacing to stare at Vetinari. "Yes?"

"Yes."

"You have physically hurt someone? In the last few decades, I mean. Childhood scuffles don't count. And also excluding sports, and excluding practice for some sort of martial arts or other fighting class," he said.

"Oh. In that case, no," said Vetinari.

Gavin nodded in a relieved manner. Though he knew Vetinari probably wouldn't tell him the complete truth, that had sounded genuine. "And of course you haven't killed anyone."

"Haven't I?"

"You have?"

"Yes."

"But you said you hadn't hurt anyone…"

"I didn't hurt them. I just killed them."

"But—"

"You can't feel pain when you're dead, can you?"

"But the killing itself—"

"I'm very careful about these things."

"But you—"

"Mr. de Becker," Vetinari sighed. "You're here wondering whether or not I pose a threat to those whom I work with. I'm telling you that I haven't killed anyone in, as you say, the last few decades. I'm not planning to kill anyone. You have only my word to go by. Whether or not that's enough is up to you."

"I also have my observations to go by."

"Believe me when I say that the only things you've observed are what I wanted you to. Good day."

Gavin de Becker went downstairs and informed Sylvia that, although he hadn't been able to identify whether or not Vetinari was a threat to the people at work, he felt that Vetinari would not react violently if fired, and better safe than sorry, right?

It was only after Gavin left that he realized he couldn't remember turning off the tape recorder. He pulled it out, rewound, and hit play. He and Vetinari conversed on the tape: "Mr. Vetinari, have you snuck weapons past the metal detectors at News19 studios?" Then, "No." Then, "I see." The rest of the tape was blank.