Although he desired to conduct a secret trade with the journalist, Lyle realized he was not a very profound person, his thoughts pure and transparent, seemingly not possessing many secrets worth hiding.
His identity as a transmigrator counted as one, but Lyle wasn't foolish enough to use that for trade.
After some more pleasantries with the journalist, Lyle turned his attention to another.
Mr. William Wyran.
His name sounded like some kind of 20th-century sparkling wine, of course, this was just a small joke to himself.
Communication with the gentleman had mentioned him before, apparently a writer in pursuit of inspiration, though whether his science-fiction-leaning mechanical attire was part of that pursuit Lyle couldn't tell.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. William."
