2024.02.16: Bob visits Sarks isle

Bob visits Sarks isle
Bob runs into Sark at the Witches Brew, they talk, and then they move the conversation to Sarks private isle
IC Date	February 16th, 2024
IC Time	Evening
Players	Bob,Sark
Location	The Witches BrewWindstorm Isle
Spheres	Mage

[[Category::Bygone]]

+xp/nom Sark/acting concept wisdom=Bob and Sark discuss the Superbowl party, then Bygones 02/16/24%r%rLog: https://cityofhopemush.net/index.php/2024.02.16:_Bob_visits_Sarks_isle %r%rSummary: Bob runs into Sark at the Witches Brew, they talk, and then they move the conversation to Sarks private isle%r%rParticipants:%rActing Concept Learning= Bob

Nommed: 2024.02.23 by Bob

Witches Brew and Occult Shoppe - Main Room

When entering the shop, the door will chime from an old-fashioned little bell set above it. First to assault the senses are the scents within the shop, there are heavy herbal smells along with delicious scents of baked goods. Describing the shop itself, it can be considered broken out into two sections. A front section that is the entirety of the front of the shop houses the cafe portion, and a back section that is split in half with one half devoted to tall bookshelves and a wide-variety of books, while the other half is devoted to a huge herbal and apothecary section that includes needed supplies for the practicing pagan. Separating the front and back sections of the shop is a long, rectangular glass counter for specialty items and checkout. It has a narrow space to enter and exit in order to serve customers and check people out from the cash register that is at this counter. There is a sign that states, 'If you can not find the book you are looking for, please enter your request in the special order book.'

The front of the store has nooks built against the front windows that are comfortable window seats with piles of cushions for the customers to sit and read, chat or snack comfortably. There are also plush, comfortable seats that have high cushioned arms arranged in cozy triangles around little tables for people to relax and chat. Just to the left beyond the cafe seating is a long glass counter that is displaying a plethora of baked goods, all very interesting and all very delicious. Behind the counter is a barrista that can also offer a multitude of drinks, from coffee, to tea, to water or any non-alcoholic drink. All drinks are delivered in unique cups, no two cups are alike, and they are all porcelein.

In the far back of the room, behind the bookshelves and shelves of merchandise are two doors that are always closed. One door has a sign on it that says 'Employees Only', the other door says, 'Private'. At the front of the store, there is a set of double-glass doors on the right hand side that lead into an expansive greenhouse, although the glass windows are often misty due to the moisture of the greenhouse beyond.

It might be getting on in the evening, but Sark hasn't given up his peoplewatching perch just yet. Camped out in the window nook, the young man has a large mug of what probably smells like cinnamon tea, and a large blueberry muffin that looks partially destroyed from his constantly tearing bites off to pop in his mouth. Dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, his sandals are on the floor underneath his table so he can tuck his bare feet up underneath himself.

The bell rings, and in rolls a twenty-something man in a wheelchair. The wheelchair is hightech - motorized, with a lap desk, and side shelf holding a large dark leather messenger bag, locked to the wheelchair with a security chain. A lap desk has a couple drink holders, both empty.

The man wears a thick black wool turtleneck, with a black blazer over it. He's also wearing black Levi's jeans, and brown loafers. The man is tall, perhaps 6'1", with an oval face and no discernible muscle definition. Light stubble and a mustache with no gray are framed by shoulder-length dark brown hair. Bob is smiling.

Sark's attention is drawn over by the door chime, and at least recognizing the man from King's, offers Bob a warmer smile and lifts one hand to wiggle his fingers at him in a bit of a greeting. He doesn't try to call across the whole cafe, however, as that would probably be rude.

Seeing the waggling, Bob also smiles wider and moves to get a coffee, giving Sark the two minute signal as he orders a straight black with sugar. Once gotten he moves on to Sark's table.

"Hey, good to see you again Sark", he says with a think Cajun accent. "How are you doing?"

Sark chuckles softly at the greeting, taking a sip of his tea before he bobs his head a little, "One of my favorite spots because of the big picture windows. I can grab a tea and spend all day watching people going back and forth outside without worrying about the weather."

Bob nods, "I prefer more caffeine myself, hence the coffee. The windows are nice. And yeah, I like people watching too. Mind if I join you?"

Sark guestures at the table and where some of the chairs can be moved out of the way to make room for his own chair, "By all means. Having a conversation is usually better than just sitting here and watching, though sometimes the people can be pretty entertaining..." He smiles a little more, "I USED to be a coffee person but then I got to trying some of the teas they offered here and kinda got hooked."

A few chairs are moved aside with not too much trouble, and Bob slides his wheelchair to the table. He's careful not to spill his coffee.

"Hmm, maybe I'll try some of them here then. Is there one you like more than the others?", Bob asks.

Sark mmms, "Lately I have been very partial to the Hot Cinnamon Tea. I think its by Harney and Sons? It comes in little sachets they just dump in the mug with some boiling water. Give it a couple minutes and its good. Even better when it's still cold out, but even when not."

Bob nods, "I'll have to try Hot Cinnamon Tea next time I come here. It is a very nice place, so I'll be back. Do you know the owners?"

Sark mmms and thinks about that for a moment, "I THINK...I met them once, and I dont know that I would really call it 'met'. More...I was here when they blew though and introduced themselves to everyone, then left." He grins for a moment at that and rolls a shoulder, "I highly doubt he would even remember who I am."

A grin decorates Bob's face. "Yeah, I'm meeting so many people it's hard to keep them straight. Some stand out though." He sips his coffee.

Sark scrunches his nose in amusement, "Some of them definitely to. I think most of the time, I get looked over because I look more like a high school kid that has nothing better to do. Defintiely not someone that has a lot going on, you know? Which suits me just fine and lets me watch more....:

Bob raises an eyebrow only a bit, "I can imagine. Of course, what's that Tolkien said 'All that is gold does not glitter'? I met this one guy, seemed like just a druggee selling weed - turned out to be very knowledgeable. Appearances seems deceiving more often than not. I conjure horses might be the same, stallion that looks amazing is rotten on the inside - or one that looks plain sires champions."

Sark nods slowly at that and smiles, "We live in a world where some people either feel compelled, or need, to put on appearances. I mean, if I had won the lottery, I sure as hell would not want to ADVERTISE it. Id be getting swarmed everywhere I went, right?"

Bob cocks his head to the left in thought. "Yeah, you're right. Any kind of power: money, political position, knowledge. You'd likely get swamped by some group for any of those."

Sark slowly nods at that and takes a moment to tear off another piece of muffin to pop into his mouth. He munches for a moment before commenting, "There's also the unfortunate reality that humans will tend to attack out of fear anything that isnt like them. I mean, grab the news paper and you dont evne have to open it...I can point out a good three or four examples of such fear and hatred on the front page." He smiles for a moment, then winks, "Aliens have already visited us. They were just too smart to make it known they came by."

Bob sighs. "Too true. Yeats is as true now as he was then, 'What man does not understand, he fears; and what he fears, he tends to destroy'. Can you imagine if there were aliens, or bigfoot, or whatever. They'd be worried about being found out. I mean say a bigfoot and an alien met in a market, and they could disguise themselves. How would they even figure out it was ok to talk to each other openly. I don't know."

Sark mmms, "That's a good question. It might have to depend on someone being observant enough to notice, or if they were the same kind of oddity, there might be a similar place out of the way that they would both frequent." He pauses to take a sip of his tea, "I think it gets more complicated if the two are parts of groups that did not necessarily trust each other. We're surrounded by secret societies...."

Bob nods, "Indeed. But what place? I mean say Merlin and something with scales met in disguise. Merlin might have a wizards hut where his people meet, the scaly being might have a place where their people met, but what kind of place would be in common? I am of course just picking an example at random of course, was reading Le Morte d'Arthur the other day." He grins.

Sark mmms again, looking a little more amused, "Well, in THAT sort of example, I can all but guarantee you that Merlin would not be considered safe company to a safe haven the scaly called home, as wizards tended to regard things like blood and scales as items of power they could harvest for their alchemy. The other way around...lately seems to depend on which Merlins we are talking about. I mean, I hear rumors that some are rather welcoming and have open minds."

Bob hmphs, "Yeah. I imagine if Merlins existed there would be old farts with old thinking that would see scales and think ooh, 'Magic pokemon, got to catch them all.'. I think there'd also be a younger generation more open to anyone not trying to fuck over humanity."

Sark taps his nose and points at Bob with a wink, "Humans seem to be doing an amazingly good job of racing towards a Doom that is going to end badly for all of them. They are losing imagination and finding themselves easily led by others who manipulate them to their own ends, and slowly, creativity and wonder dies." He pauses for a moment, then offers, "I mean, as an example, three hundred years ago, people used to mark on the corners of the map 'thar be dragons', or other beasts, and they BELIEVED that to be true. Now they tell themselves they are certain such creatures do not exist."

Bob blinks a couples times. "Dragons. scales. Oh wow. I feel like that M&M in the santa commercial."

He pauses and visibly collects himself. He is after all painfully young.

"We probably have taken this conversation as far as we can in this location. Is there a better place we could go to continue it?", Bob asks.

Sark chuckles softly at that and thinks about that for a moment, "Well. I own an island that my ranch is on, and I have pretty tight control over who is allowed on it at any given time. Unfortunately its like a 30 minute ferry ride one way, so if you are the kind that might get seasick, that could be a problem..."

Bob smiles, "I loved going sailing, before the accident. So no, seasickness not a problem. If you're willing, then I am. I'm also a fan of history. I remember Hospitality was a formal thing, and sacred. If it puts you at ease, I agree to abide by the rules of Hospitality while on your island, as long as you and yours do as well. Not that I'm much of a threat to anyone. Just a babe in the woods compared to most other, umm, specials out there."

Sark rumbles a little as he listens, and slowly eases out of his seat, slipping his feet back into his sandals, "Well, the rules are pretty simple. Behave or you dont get to come back to the island. THREATEN myself or any of my retainers, and everyone else will wonder where you went. Be a good guest, and you have my protection and my word that nothing we discuss gets repeated again unless you tell me it is okay to do so. Most people tell me it is not okay to do so."

Bob nods, "I agree to that, you have my word. Any yeah, there'd be people having fits finding out I talked with you, so.. yeah, probably all of it is unsharable. I'll go one further too. If you or yours come under threat while I am a guest, then I agree to do my utmost to help in the defense. Of course my utmost, might not be that much yet.", he gives a self-deplrecating smile.

Sark scrunches his nose a little at that and keeps his voice down, "I appreciate the offer, but you might wait before making that sort of vow. I am...well, yes, lets just get there first or Im going to say too much...." He winks at that and makes his way to the door to open it for Bob and his chair.

Bob and Sark make their way to the ferry and cross to Sark's isle.

Indeed, its a short walk down to the Harbor pier to one of the private docks where a small car ferry is waiting - perhaps big enough to carry a couple cars or a big delivery truck, and a handful of people. The Captain recognizes Sark immediately, and Sark stops to introduce him to Bob and explain that Bob is to be considered on the whitelist for future trips even if he's not with Sark. The trip does take about 30-45 mins and pulls up to a small docking platform at the base of several clifs. Fortunately there is a easily navigated path up the side of the cliff to the plateau above, where he leads around the ranch house to the back patio, where it is easy to take in the fields and the fenced-in pastures where several VERY large black horses are roaming around (Freisians if you are familiar with the breed). The patio has a ramp that leads up to it and Sark guestures at one of the conversation spaces, "One moment while I get a tea service. Welcome to Windstorm Isle."

Windstorm Isle - Meadows(#3142RAJ)

The majority of the island is made up of expansive meadows, and while it isn't entirely flat the hills are gentle and rolling, at least once the top of the island is reached. Here, horses graze and frolic, though there is some degree of separation between them to keep the stallions away from the mares, and to keep foals and their mothers away from everyone. For the most part, the horses are Friesians; large, mostly black horses - though there's one or two chestnuts - with flowing manes and tails and feathering around their hooves, though there is also a few examples of other breeds, likely those whose owners have chosen to board their horses here.

A large, one story house sits close to the edge of the hill that drops down to the docks and beach, offering a view of the cove, with a porch wrapping around it. Flowers grow in profusion around it, some twining up the posts of the porch, all tropical in nature. More flowering vines seem to have been encouraged to grow up over the fences, making them far prettier than they might otherwise have been. Further back, near the treeline, is an expansive stable complex, larger than the house, with some fenced in exercise and training rings around it.

All in all, this crescent shaped island is a lovely place to be, the breezes gentle despite the name of the place.

Bob gives a slight bow, and says "It is beautiful. And, oh my god, those horses are huge." While saying this Bob rolls to one of the conversation spaces, looking around further.

Sark leaves the back doors open for a moment as he steps inside, and raises his voice, "They are also spoiled rotten. I almost always have a bag of carrots on me to override the natural instinct to flee a predator and now I think that's backfired on me as they only see me as The Treat Giver." He finlly emerges with a tray that has an insulated mug of coffee and one of tea on it, as well as a small plate of cheddar and turkey breast cubes.

Bob nods, "Most appreciated", as he takes the coffee. "I love animals. They tend to like me too." He pauses here. "Of course, I can talk with them. Any of them. Helps a lot with being a vet."

Sark grins at that and sinks himself into a seat, "My assistant Stella would probably like that. She seems to get along famously with the huge stallion named Thor. He's also one of the biggest babies." Again, he kicks off his sandals and groans a little as he squirms around in his chair, then glances up into the sky, "You know, ever since I learned about stupid ground pointed landsats, it makes all of this rather inconvenient. I can never tell who might actually be taking a picture at any one given time."

Bob nods, "Yeah, those are a problem. Though if you know any other 'Merlins', they might be able to help with that. Have you met others? Not asking who mind you. I guess I should stop the euphemisms. You're a Dragon and I'm what some folks call a Mage, though I prefer to call myself a Reality Hacker. I didn't even know you guys existed. Though to be fair..the phrase 'baby mage' gets thrown around alot in conversations I have with other Mages."

Sark laughs softly at the comment and smiles a little more, "We do, just...most of us have moved on to other planes, thinking this one is doomed. The few of us that remain are usually here to try and prevent that from happenening, by finding the right threads to pluck on, the right people to inspire, and so on. Direct action usually does not end up well, because if humans found out we existed again, it wouldnt be pitchforks and torches, it would be tanks and nuclear weapons."

Bob nods, "That's what some of the younger of us are trying to do too. There are so many threats out there, it may be a near impossible task, but we have to try, right? And agreed on the direct action. Sometimes it's good, but it usually escalates and the people you're trying to protect are the ones who pay.

Sark mmms and nods slowly, "I made friends with a couple of mages when I first woke up here. One of them apparently had a very bad reputation among other Mages and she is, well, gone now. They got divorced and she left the city. So Im HOPING I didnt gain a bad reputation as being her friend. Its more a case of I had no idea what she had done before I met her." He pauses, "I have since then tried to keep my eyes open for others, as it would not hurt to have other friends."

Bob smiles, "I'm open to friends. We already seem to have so many enemies. So, are you familiar with Dreamspeakers, Virtual Adepts? I had a weirder than normal intro, and am both. Means I'm like a techno shaman, though more techno than shaman at the moment. Are you familiar with those terms?"

Sark mmms, "I have met a couple of Dreamspeakers. Noone that identified themselves as a Virtual Adept. I didnt know you could be both, but then this is my limited experience. I was born about five hundred years ago on the east coast and when the Europeans started invading, I fled across the country and spent time with the native people. But once I got to California, the Spanish were already here and they were, ahem, not in the mood to deal with a dragon. Almost got myself killed."

Bob chuckles, "As I said, my background is weirder than most, in a weird already bunch. Dual traditions are exceedinly rare I think, though I don't know for certain. Yeah, I've read about the Conquistadors and the Mayans, and the Inquisition. Spanish weren't exactly a tolerance crowd. So, if Dragons exist. What doesn't? I know vampires do, don't know about much else. And that sounds rough."

Sark tilts his head a little, "Well, I ended up having to go to ground for a long time and didnt wake back up until a couple of years ago, so apparently I missed quite a few things." He takes in a deep breath and lets it go, "Lots of things exist in hiding, but telling you about them borders on violating my promise not to share their secrets. I /can/ say that there are numerous examples of mythical creatures still around, we've just learned how to play 'human' very well. Mermaids. Phoenixes. I know a Griffon, two other dragons and a hydra."

Bob nods, "I can appreciate that. I don't want to be responsible for you accidentally violating your oath. Though if those exist, and vampires exist, I can extrapolate others that probably exist. Is there something you collectively call youselves? I mean there are all kinds of mages but collectively we call ourselves mages."

Sark smiles and nods, "One could indeed extrapolate that. I just cant confirm it for you. We in general dont have any rules like the other groups of...special things...might have, though it is USUALLY considered rude to reveal things about others unless you've gotten their okay. I generally refer to us as 'mythicals', because, in a large part, almost all of us are creatures that have faded into myth and are honestly not believed to exist anymore...whereas vampires, witches, werewolves, all seem to have a die-hard group of humans that really believe they are still around."

Bob smiles, "Mythicals. I like that. Maybe its because if humans have boogeymen of Vampires,etc, then they can point to their wild distortions (like sparkling vampires) and say 'See, they're make believe. You don't need to be afraid.'

Sark takes another slow drink of his tea and rolls his shoulder, "I should clarify that not every....mythical...sees things in the same shades of color that I do. I am a 'greater western wyrm of the gold variety', and from what I can tell, MY bloodline was tainted towards protection and knowledge and healing...and indeed, I am very very good at that. It might amuse you to see just how much I suck in a fight, short of being able to incinerate anyone who cant move fast enough." He chuckles for a moment, "Some of us are darker in nature. After all, wonder goes both ways...fantasies and nightmares, and there are always going to be the Ursulas on this plane."

Bob nods, "Knowledge can be pretty powerful too. But..your blood was tainted, what do you mean? I mean no offense, are you a kind of construct?", he asks before sipping more of his coffee.

Sark shakes his head, "I just mean I think there is something in the blood of my line that predisposes us to these desires and tasks. If such led us to more destructive ends, it would still be called a taint, so the word itself does not necessarily carry a bad meaning, just...a predeliction? I have this connection with my ancestors that maintains a strange, unconscious pull to it, something I can't seem to direct but will periodically allow me to remember what others have learned. Things there is no chance I have ever run into, myself."

Bob smiles, "Ah, ok. I understand, I appreciate the explanation. That almost sounds like our Avatar. Do you have a homeland? I know Mages don't really have a homeland, so there are beings that don't have them."

Sark smiles a little at that, "Some say we do, but then we are getting into stories that have been passed down through memories and generations, and none of it can be said to be known by first hand experience. When one of us finally dies, we return to this world as another dragon, until the Wheel has decided we have learned all we can. At that point we return to the Wheel and our knowledge is redistributed to the rest of the world, and we return as....something else. The most common story I hear is that the four Directional Celestials. North, South, East, West, hold down the corners of reality and when we do finally die, we return there to add our bones to the rest. I dont know if you can call that a homeland, but it seems to provide something like that."

Bob looks at Sark thoughtfully, "Interesting. The reincarnation is very similar to us Mages. Though our stories say we ascend when its our final incarnation. There is a thing tied to our incarnations, our Avatar. What are Celestials though? Is that just a rank of Dragon? Or a rank of mythicals? By the way, have you ever visited the Digital Web? Remind me to take you there some time." He smiles

Sark nods slowly, "Saying they are a rank of dragons is probably the easiest way to explain it. Unlike humans, Celestials are ancestors of ours that we could never actually be. They are far more powerful, far more longer-lived, and far more knowledgable. 'Gods' is not a good way to describe them, but the comparison between the two could be apt. They are literally the stuff of creation. We are just some of the dust that has rubbed off of them over the millennia. If that makes more sense?" He grins for a moment and stops to upend his tea and finish the rest of it, "I have no, but I see things that discuss virtual reality and some books that discuss things like 'the Network' so I assume this is something akin to that? Another plane of existence such as the Umbra or the Astral?"

Bob nods, "Virtual Reality, but a step above it. It's real reality, but a different existence. All the computer systems in creation exist there, and all the information in those systems. The Digital Web is connected to the Umbra I think, maybe it's part of it. It's kind of a specialty of Virtual Adepts, though I am still a baby mage." He smiles.

Sark chuckles softly at that and nods, "I would, if you asked the others, still be considered a 'kid' by comparison, so there are no worries of judgement there. Unfortunately in my case, there isnt really a good network of elders anymore and even young ones such as myself are more or less on our own. We get to, as they say, grow up quickly?" He sets his empty tea cup down and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and gives Bob a curious look, "So do you work mostly on your own? My...mage friends talk about Chantries like they are some sort of communal residence almost, where you can share ideas and work and potentially help each other. It sounds fantastic."

Bob nods, "Right now yes. I may be joining a Chantry soon, helping to form it. It's eclectic, accepting non-mages that contribute as well. There's a sorcerer and a psychic interested in joining. You're not in any sort of such group yourself?" <OOC> Bob says, "Ok, OOCly, Sark isn't Wyrm/Nephandi allied, right? I don't want Bob to be responsible from bringing that into the Chantry. But if not, a Bygone is considered ok for mages to hang with, so you could be in, if the others agree."

Sark mmms and considers that, "Not with mages. I have sworn an oath of protection with one of the leaders of the local fae, as after a couple of years of working with them, I am satisfied that what they are working for is very very close to what I want, and that they are worthy of my protection."

Bob 's face scrunches a bit in thought, before he says "I can reach out to the others, see if they would be interested in you joining. We're still working out a charter of who we are and what we stand for. I imagine you'll want to see that before you decide whether you want me to approach them on it. What do you think?"

Sark holds up a hand, "I would not jump straight to asking if I could join. Ask them if they'd like to MEET me. I am all for having more friends, especially if they already like each other and work together...and if we can find a way I can help you and yours with what you are doing, even better. I dont have to join the country club, so to speak. I am...resistant to magical effects. I can block and absorb an inhuman amount of damage. When one of you tears reality too much, I can contain the backlash and prevent it from tearing reality open and eating you for it."

Sometimes Bob's enthusiasm shines through like a small beacon in the night. Other times like the bright glaring headlights of a Mac truck bearing down on you. He seems to realize he was getting ahead of himself. "Oh right. Yeah. Meet first. That makes a lot more sense." He pauses as what Sark said registers. "Wait, you can eat paradox? Like familiars? That's amazing. Though, is it painful? That would be bad."

Sark chuckles softly, "Some of us feel we are, despite being the dust of celestials, still tied to reality and the firmament and still part of it. So when someone damages it, we have some ability to smooth that damage out, to repair what's been done. Its not pleasant, and it takes a while. I usually need to get a lot of sleep over a few days to 'digest' it, I suppose you could say."

Bob nods, "I think we'd only call on that if it's necessary. For the most part, we're taught to try to do our magic so it's 'coincidental', fits into the idea of consensual reality. Shooting someone with an overcharged taser for example is coincidental, but throwing a fireball at them most assuredly not. THe first wouldn't engender paradox, while the second would. Also, paradox causes weird things to happen in some cases, even if digested, I think. I've heard stories of mages disappearing. Could just be stories though." Bob looks doubtful of that though.

Sark nods slowly, "Power, unfortunately, usually attracts individuals that cannot actually handle that power and end up destroying themselves with it. I am not here to prevent that. I would consider that more of a 'survival of the fittest' response. You cant handle the power? Reality eliminates you from it, problem solved. My abilities are more for what we could consider critical issues that are pushing the limits of what can be done, but still need help to succeed. If that makes sense?"

Bob considers this. "Yeah, I think it does. And I'm all for Darwin drawing the line, so the speak. Those kind of people are a menace. Lots of them though."

Bob looks amused, and says "I've been enjoying our conversation so much I haven't gotten to something I wanted to talk with you about."

Bob continues, "Our conversation about horse breeding got me thinking, and I started work on a program to optimize your tracking of the breeding program and do simulations of what horses that might be bred would look and behave like. I figure it could bring more income to your farm, and help you get the breeding results you want better. And I could share it with you for free, in return for your help advertising it to other breeders, which would allow me to sell it to them. Would that be something you might interested in?", he asks.

Sark tilts his head a little at that and chuckles, "Well, its probably better if I end up introducing you to Stella so she can discuss that with you. I inherited this entire location and Stella has been the mental power behind making sure the entire organization keeps moving along. SO it might be more a case of, if she looks at it and finds it useful, Im quite happy to give you whatever recommendations you would like to have?"

Bob chuckles, "Fair enough. Next time I visit I can talk with her and get some more details about your breeding process and what you need. Then it will take some time to write the software, and imbue it with primal code for extra benefit."

Sark nods slowly at that, "Of course. And just to warn you...Stella is a normal mortal but she is...well versed in what I am and is a good friend of some of the fae, and one of the local Mages. So she....knows. But I dont think she is 'safe' to bend reality around, if I understand the distinction. Fair enough?"

Bob takes his leave, and travels home.