Gaius is a man of great intelligence. He prides himself with his intellect and his study is that of a royal scholar.

It'd been curiously silent lately... indeed, ever since the autumn-feast.

There had been a great absence of accidents, evil plots-

(He picks up a brown flayed jacket and folds it over a chair)

-suspicious maladies, mystical creatures and illnesses over-all this fortnight-

(He folds a red scarf that lay on the still dirty leech-tank)

- so he'd been able to continue his research undisturbed.

Still, he has a strange feeling in the back of his head that something's amiss...

...

The leech-tank!

...

It need be cleaned.

Gaius nods, satisfied with his thinking process, and continues to fold random colourful abandoned scarves strewn about the room.

Gaius is a man of great intelligence.

Gaius has never said a word about his memory.