(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

"Surely he did and could, were he alive today. My father was said to be a
great teacher." Finam sighed sadly. "I've his skill with language, but not his
patience for others, sadly."
"Is he... interred at the Mortuary?"
"Why, no... his ashes are kept here." He pointed to a bronze urn sitting atop
a cabinet beside a bouquet of purple flowers. "Why?" A wry smile crossed
Finam's lips. "A necroscope, are you? Speak with the dead?"
"Er, no. Just wanted to pay my respects, is all." I turned to Grace with a
wink. 'Distract him,' I mouthed.
With a light flap of her wings, Fall-From-Grace presented herself grandly,
hands open and head slightly bowed. "Finam, I have heard much of you. You
lectured at the Civic Festhall, as I understand it. On the phonetic differences
between the dialects of Bytopia?"
Finam snatched off his cap immediately, giving Fall-From-Grace a deep bow,
"M-madam Grace! It is such an honor to have you in my home. Oh dear,
please forgive the clutter..." all businesslike pretense had been abandoned,
"I'm afraid I've been busy you see. I didn't realize you were interested in my
work."
"I am interested in all matters of discourse," Grace smiled, "Though I'm
afraid I had been preoccupied with other things. Such a pity I missed your
lecture... I must imagine it was fascinating."
"Well, I'm glad you think so at least... well, you and Vivian of cour-" he
mouth snapped shut, "That is to say, I- er..."
Grace laughed, sitting down on a chair the moment Finn cleared it of a small
pile of books, "Master Finam, I as am glad to have you as a guest in my
establishment as you are to have me. I know that among all her patrons, you
are one of Vivian's favorites. Come," Grace smiled, gesturing for the linguist
to sit down, "Let us talk."
Brilliant.
The urn sat atop a small cabinet, no doubt full of ashes and charred bits of
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