"Been a while since I got any respect," Elton says with a cold laugh. He's not local—he sounds British. And not a Cambridge lad, despite his air of bookish and genteel poverty; that glottal stop swallowing up the back half of "been" hints at working class origins.
"I'm Elton Dey of the Shadow Lords. I used to be more, but now I'm not. Step inside, and you can tell me how you came to this miserable place." He steps past you to a narrow door and takes out an elaborate brass key.
"Why are you dressed like a dracula?"
"Why do you sound like the butler in that show?"
"Why do you smell like a dog that learned to smoke?"
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