My name is Henry Morgan.
My story is a long one.
Over the years, you could say I've become a student of death.
I need to find a key to unlock my curse.
Something happened nearly two centuries ago.
And I was transformed.
My life is just like yours...
Except for one small difference.
It never ends.
Every time I die, I always return in water,
and I'm always naked.
Now you know as much about my condition as I do.
It's a long story.
Please pick up. Pick up your phone.
Where are you? Can you hurry up?!
Where are you?! I need to talk to you!
What are you doing?!
Wait, wait, wait. Stop the car.
Ma'am, we're in the middle of the bridge.
No, stop the car now! Stop the car please!
What the hell are you doing?!
Hey!
Hey, what the hell are you doing?!
Hey!
What are you, crazy?!
Hey, lady, don't do this!
You can learn a lot from a body...
How a life was lived, what was their pain,
suffering, life experiences, even if they were loved.
But what a body can't tell you is why.
And for those left behind,
that seems to be the only question that really matters.
Well, doc...
The cause of death on this guy seems a bit obvious.
I couldn't agree more.
Manner of death... accidental.
- Got it. - What?
Guy has an ax sticking out of his head.
It's a clear homicide.
Yeah, witnesses heard the victim and his neighbor arguing
20 minutes before his death.
Go ahead.
All right.
From his garb, we can see that he was an American football fan.
I assume there was a game last night
from all the commotion on my street,
and from what I can gather, it was rather a raucous affair.
Yeah, pretty... raucous.
Right, he was drunk and probably thought
the power outage we had last night was simply his satellite dish.
So in a life filled with inactivity
and a sedentary existence, our friend here decides to act.
From the tar stains on his knees,
we know that he was up on the roof.
He carried the ax between his teeth...
Wood chips found in his molars.
From the moisture and wet leaves on his shoes,
it suggests that he slipped and fell...
Aah!
The slight fracture of the L5,
where he landed on his back.
And then...
Gravity took care of the rest.
Not the most elegant way to go, but accidental nonetheless.
Well, if that's the official manner of death,
who am I to argue?
Call it an early night.
I can go home and see the kids before they go to bed.
Detectives.
This one, on the other hand, is quite suspicious.
No. That one is a clear suicide.
Witnesses saw her climb onto the ledge
of the 59th Street Bridge and jump.
Hmm.
Why?
Well, take a look at this.
We found paint chips under her fingernails.
Some is lead-based,
which hasn't been used on that bridge since '76.
Means she dug deep enough
to cut through at least a dozen coats.
So she, uh, clawed her way to the edge.
Or perhaps she was clinging for her life.
Scuff marks suggest that she was struggling.
And then there's the angle of fracture,
starting with her big toe along what remains of her tibia,
suggesting she was facing the bridge at the moment of impact.
Every jumper that I've ever examined...
I've never, ever seen one go backwards.
It simply doesn't happen.
This woman was murdered.
Got it. All right, we'll look into it.
Uh, w-what? Wait, wait.
She could have spun around backwards.
She could have slipped and fallen.
Jo, just 'cause he says it doesn't make it true.
Yeah, but he hasn't been wrong yet.
Sorry to have ruined your evening, detective.
Synced by emmasan Brought to you by pizstol
Detective, walk me through this again.
How is the bridge jumper a homicide?
I thought we had witnesses who saw her climb over the ledge.
We do.
Another dozen who saw her fall into the water
and a cab driver who said she was distressed.
I believe the word he used was "hysterical."
Well, I may be new to this squad,
but if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck...
What am I missing here, detective?
Well, downstairs, we have an M.E.
Who looks at things a little differently.
Sometimes, a duck can be a moose.
He's been extremely helpful in a number of homicide investigations.
So I read in your reports.
I also took a look at your file, detective.
Sorry to hear about your husband.
Thank you.
Can't cut you any slack for it, though.
I need you sharp. You understand me?
Yes, I think I do.
Good.
As far as the jumper is concerned,
there are a bunch of reasons
why someone could have fallen backwards into the water.
We have a full board of real homicide cases.
If your M.E. is as good as you say he is,
I'm sure we can find a more effective use for his talents.
Lucas, did you know that the average living person
has 25 face mites on their lashes?
They feed on our oil and have tiny, sluglike bodies.
That is new information
and now something that I can't un-know.
Cops called, and they're encouraging us
to rule the jumper a suicide.
It's not a suicide.
If they wish to categorize it as such,
they should either get a medical degree or another M.E.
Okay.
Also, the parents of the jumper,
Vicky Hulquist, are here to I.D. the body.
Show them pictures.
They want to talk to you.
Lucas, we've been over this.
I never speak with the families.
It's much too emotional.
But they refuse to leave.
I don't...
What do you want me to do here?
Well, call Detective Martinez. Have them...
Oh, dear God.
What? Oh, no.
Please, I wouldn't recommend coming in here.
S-she's really gone.
Look, I'm, uh...
I'm so sorry for your loss.
It's why we discourage families from seeing the bodies.
What happened?
I'm sorry, but it appears that she fell from the bridge to her death.
She didn't kill herself.
- Do you understand me? - Alex.
She was a grad student getting her M.A. in Classics.
She was leaving this week
to study at the Sorbonne in Paris.
Is there any evidence that something else could have happened?
Look, I strongly suggest you bring this matter up with the police.
I'm asking... you.
Did she jump?
I can understand the pain that you must be going through.
Do you have a child?
No. Uh, I don't.
You have no idea the pain we're going through.
His name is Abraham.
They haven't been able to locate any of his family.
What will happen to him?
I suppose an orphanage somewhere,
unless someone were to fall in love and adopt him.
If only it were that simple.
What could be more simple
than making an impulsive commitment for the rest of your life?
You're in trouble.
I don't think he's going to let you go.
Well?
Mmm, mmm. Very nice.
No, there's way too much garlic.
You usually have a much more sophisticated palate.
What's the matter?
I met the parents of a victim today.
Oh, really? Well, that's a positive step.
No, it's a terrible idea.
Now I can't stop thinking about the case.
Her parents are never gonna learn what really happened to their daughter.
Nothing can make up for the loss of their child,
but that feeling in your gut that it doesn't make sense
will haunt them forever.
So? Do something about it.
I have. I've told the police. That's my job.
Oh, your job.
You study corpses so you can figure out a way to become one.
Well, at least it's clinical.
I've carefully chosen this life
so I don't have to get involved in these messy, emotional entanglements.
You know, for some of us,
these messy, emotional entanglements
are the whole point of life.
Oh, uh, which reminds me...
I need you to make yourself scarce.
I-I have a date coming over.
Uh, I met her on, uh, Eharmony.
I just hope she looks like her picture.
And who's this?
No, no, uh...
Abraham!
What's the big deal?
Everybody lies about their pictures online.
But it's not you!
Well, of course it's me! Just not today.
Well, not everybody can remain 35 forever.
The jumper, Vicky Hulquist, leapt to her death
somewhere in the middle of the bridge.
That is, according to eyewitness accounts.
But I find the eyes to be
the least reliable form of perception,
unless, of course, they are my own.
Get out of the way, moron!
When you fall off a bridge,
your body accelerates to an impact of roughly 10 miles per story.
So, from here, the fall is roughly 70 miles per hour.
The water is like concrete.
When you land, the bones in your hips shatter
and get driven into your internal organs.
If you should survive,
you can't stop yourself from sinking.
All things considered,
it's one of the worst ways to die.
Certainly in the top 20.
Aah!
Hello, Abe. How was your date?
We were midway through my bananas flambé
when you called.
Rough night, huh?
Bad news...
I've just experienced the 22nd worst way to die.
Good news... I was right.
There was someone else up on that bridge.
Now I can prove it.
Hey. You were right, of course.
Paint chips under her nails
match the kind used on the bridge.
But wait. There's more.
I found this wedged under the nail bed.
- Skin particles. - Hmm.
- Do they match the deceased? - Nope.
Someone she scratched before dying?
Perhaps.
Good work, Lucas.
Call it your birthday present.
It's not my birthday.
Anniversary?
I'm just taking stabs here.
Somebody left a gift on your desk.
__
I'm saying that we're the same,
you and I.
We share the same pain, same curse, same affliction.
How is this possible?
I'm afraid I'm as lost as you are.
Hey.
You all right? I did not mean to startle you.
I can get a bit lost in my imagination.
So I noticed.
Said you had some new information on the jumper.
Yes, someone else was on the bridge before she died.
There were two sets of footprints in the soot on the ledge.
Wait. How do you know this?
Because I was in the neighborhood
passing by on my bicycle, and I looked.
What, you climbed onto the ledge of the bridge?
I've never really been bothered by heights.
And what about death?
A rather more complicated relationship.
Would you excuse me?
You sure this was from the caller?
Well, who else would it be from?
He was following me, Abe.
He was up there on the bridge.
So he saw you?
Yes, he saw me die. He saw me disappear.
He's just toying with me now.
He knows everything about me, and I know nothing about him.
- That's not entirely true. - Yes.
I mean, he claims to have the same affliction as me.
But forgive me for being a bit skeptical.
No, I mean, the paper.
This is what is known as laid paper.
You see the watermarks inside the design?
This is very old.
Do you think you can figure out where it came from?
Do my best.
I'm fairly dialed-in to the, uh, antiquepaper game.
Hi. Sorry to interrupt.
Uh, come in, detective.
I, uh... I wanted to let you know
she checked in to her flight.
- Who? - Vicky Hulquist.
I did some digging,
and turns out she was leaving for Paris,
and she checked in.
It's kind of odd behavior for somebody who's about to kill herself,
wouldn't you say?
I'd say there are quite a few odd things about this case.
School's address. Coming?
Vicky was our hall R.A.
She was awesome, super-positive,
let us kind of do whatever we wanted.
If you were lonely, broke up with a guy,
you'd go to Vicky.
Here's her room.
Great. Thank you.
You're welcome.
Sorry to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Hulquist.
I'm Detective Martinez. This is...
We've met. Does this mean you've opened up the case?
- You found something? - Well, it's actually...
Uh, it's still an unexplained death right now.
We're just trying to learn a little bit more about Vicky.
Okay, uh, how can we help you?
Is there anything you can tell us about her?
Any boyfriends?
She, uh, didn't have a boyfriend right now.
She broke up with a guy about six months ago,
but I think he transferred to Stanford.
Quite the outdoor enthusiast.
Yeah. Always was.
Do you know who took this picture?
No.
Any other hobbies, interests, friends?
We haven't spoken to her as much recently.
Yeah, she's been working night and day on this paper.
They were translating an ancient manuscript they found in Egypt.
It's a scroll, I guess.
It has layers written on... on top of each other.
A codex?
Yeah, yeah, that's it.
So you said "they" have been working on it.
Yes, uh, her professor and a few grad students, I think.
I'd do anything to... hold her again.
Look how perfect she was.
She was beautiful.
Don't worry. We'll find out who did this.
Did you really just tell the mother of a victim
you would solve the case?
Nice to know you're finally referring to her as the victim.
Henry, I am not supposed to be looking into this.
Now, what happens when those parents call my boss
and say, "hey, they promised to find out who did this"?
Well, I suppose we'd better solve the case.
Okay, stop, stop.
No matter how hard we try,
we may never actually figure out what happened.
Some of these cases go unsolved for years.
Well, I've got time.
She kept a desk in the codex room with Browning.
Is that her professor?
Yeah. Guy's basically a genius.
I know that word gets abused in our culture,
but he actually qualifies.
He knows, like, seven languages.
He can toss out ancient Greek in the middle of a sentence.
We're lucky to have him.
Could teach anywhere in the world.
You're gonna think I'm crazy,
but, uh... I got to ask you to suit up.
This is pretty tight security for an old book, huh?
Yeah, classics department can be a little paranoid.
More about, uh, contamination than anything.
And now I present... the codex.
It's very important you realize it's their lives.
Their lives recorded atop one another.
Our job is to translate,
and, in so doing, bring them back to life.
Re-read the Euripides assignment.
Papers from all of you Friday.
Professor James Browning. How can I help you?
Hi. Uh, just wanted to ask you a few questions about Vicky Hulquist.
Right. Anything I can do.
She was one of my brightest students.
Is this the scroll she was working on?
It is. It's a codex.
The bottom layer is in Latin,
and originally we thought it was simply a letter about crops.
"Post diebus messis, aere perennius"...
"Beyond the days of the harvest,
more lasting than bronze"...
"Is love."
"Est amo" is "love."
It's a love letter.
It is. You're right.
Where... where did you study?
Guam.
Uh, we were told that Vicky spent most of her time here with you.
Me by default.
I think the codex was the real draw.
We were all set to publish, and it's just a shame.
"The last of the Latin lovers."
Vicky's title.
I went with it.
Vicky keep an office in here?
Uh... Over in the back.
Do you smoke, professor?
I don't. Why?
I was hoping to bum one.
The way you were holding that pen...
Ah, well, old habits die hard.
On occasion, I relent to my demons.
I know what you mean.
How close were you with Vicky?
Not... very.
Uh, I mean, colleagues, you know?
Personally, we didn't socialize or anything like that,
if that's what you mean.
I-I have some trouble connecting with this generation.
See, I was at the opera when I... heard the news...
with my wife.
They were having an affair.
- We don't know that. - Of course we do.
He said he had an occasional smoke,
and there were cigarette stains on Vicky's sheets.
She could have been smoking.
I saw her teeth and lungs.
Not a smoker.
Also, he was the one that took the picture in her room.
How do you know?
She as wearing his scarf in the photo.
Shahtoosh fiber... It was on his desk.
As a scarf man, I can tell you it was quite tasteful.
You don't find any of this suspicious?
I did not say that.
He also never looked at Vicky's desk,
and he gave an alibi without provocation,
but it's all circumstantial.
Forensically, we need something that can tie him to the victim.
Exactly.
Like, say, DNA?
All right, these are the skin samples
from under the victim's fingernails.
And this is the DNA from the pen.
That the kind of concrete data you were looking for?
Sounds like this is cause for celebration, right?
I'm... I'm available if...
You guys, get back to work.
It's fine. Fair enough.
You know, until recently,
this area used to all be farmland.
Recently?
These brownstones have been around long before you and I.
I suppose it depends on your perspective.
Brownstones weren't in New York until the late 1800s,
and these not until the early 20th century.
This block was very popular with the artistic crowd.
I believe George Gershwin used to live over there
and Cecil B. Demille...
Henry, I don't want a history lesson.
We're here to ask about the professor's alibi
and see if he was really at the opera, okay?
Yes, you're right.
It was a long time ago.
Can I offer you any tea, coffee?
No, no, thank you.
Uh, we are just doing a follow-up
on a suicide that happened Sunday night.
Oh, I heard. A student of James'.
Just awful.
You and your husband... You were at the opera?
That's correct. "Madame Butterfly."
And you were together the entire evening?
Yes.
I'm sorry.
What does this have to do with the suicide?
Just routine.
We're working up a timeline for her death.
It must have been difficult to sit next to your husband
while watching an opera about betrayal.
Excuse me?
Oh, I don't mean to embarrass you, truly.
I know what it's like to care about someone deeply,
to want to protect them at all costs,
but there's no need to lie for him.
We were at the opera.
You were at the opera. Two playbills over here...
One balled up, one without a crinkle.
You waited for him outside, but he never showed up.
You knew about the affair,
and you were trying to make things work.
These pictures all have dust on them
except for this one.
It was placed there recently,
trying to remind him of a time
when he was young and in love.
And I can understand why you would try to cover for him.
You don't want to bring any embarrassment to your family.
This home has been passed down for generations.
How would you possibly know that?
Family resemblance.
Mrs. Browning, if you're lying,
you could be arrested for obstruction of justice.
I'm gonna ask you one more time...
Was your husband with you at the opera?
No.
We know about the affair.
And your wife... She found out.
Vicky was leaving to study in Paris.
Your life was unraveling, so you went up to that bridge
- to end things. - No.
And then Vicky went up to stop you, and she slipped.
- No. - It wasn't your fault.
It was an accidental death.
Oh, I loved her more than anyone I've ever loved.
I didn't think I had the strength to do it,
but I did.
Strength to do what?
To break it off with her.
Believe this guy?
He broke up with a hot young girl.
She was 22.
She... had her whole life ahead of her.
What happens when time catches up to us?
A 30-year-old woman with a 65-year-old man?
I loved her so much
i gave up my own happiness for her.
He's telling the truth.
Are you saying you don't think he did it?
I'm not sure.
I know he believes what he's saying to be true.
He thinks she killed herself for him.
Look at his wrists.
They're chafed from the cuffs.
He has a skin condition... Atopic dermatitis.
That's fascinating, doc.
I've been retained by Mr. Browning's wife.
- No more questions, please. - Come on.
Mr. Browning, not another word.
I'm sorry!
If I could ask one more question...
Professor, would you mind removing your shirt?
- Is he serious? - Um, I...
We're done here.
I'm gonna get you out on bail in just a few hours.
Henry, what are you going on about?
The marks on his wrists suggest he has a skin condition.
So?
So if she scratched him on the bridge,
there'd be evidence of it.
I thought you said the DNA under her nails matched his.
It does!
I suspect they were done doing some passionate endeavor...
Perhaps digging into his back during sex.
He loved her. He would never have killed her.
Henry!
We still have a lot to go on here.
Professor's going away for a very long time, doc.
You helped put him there.
Why did you let me get involved in this case?
An innocent man now sits in prison,
and I helped put him there.
Wait a minute. You don't know he's innocent.
What about the affair? What about the false alibi?
Well, he loved her. Why would he kill her?
Well, maybe he's lying.
Maybe she dumped him, and he couldn't take it.
So he told her he was gonna jump,
and when she went to the bridge to stop him, wham-o...
Gave her the old heave-ho.
But that would be a crime of passion, wouldn't it?
The old heave-ho?
This was a crime of precision.
Whoever did this had to plan it meticulously...
The bridge, the carabiner.
Someone wanted her dead and took great pains to make it look accidental.
Oh, just a few weeks of homicide,
and already you're Sherlock Holmes.
- Well, I'm a fast learner. - So I've seen.
You're gonna figure it out.
Come here. I want to show you something.
I did a little research on your pen pal...
Your anonymous friend.
Did you find out where the paper was made?
Yes, but, uh, keep your expectations low.
It was manufactured at the Caserta paper mill in Milan.
The mill was destroyed during World War II.
No more of it exists today.
Now, the crest at the top is from a local hotel in the area...
The Hotel Montoliogne.
But I'm afraid it's been shuttered for the last 60 years.
Ah. Sorry.
Don't worry. Don't worry.
We're gonna learn more about this guy.
__
Henry!
- Abigail, I'm sorry. - Why?
Because it won't work.
Because it can't.
I've read your letter. Do you love me?
Yes.
Yes, I do.
But trust me, over time, it won't end well.
Who cares how it ends?
Life is about the journey,
no matter how long it lasts.
I'm sorry, Dr. Morgan,
but I'm not letting go so fast.
There it is.
Whoo!
If the professor's telling the truth,
and I believe he is, then he broke up with her,
but she didn't want to let him go.
How do you know that?
She was a fighter.
Scuff marks on her shoes,
paint chips in her nails suggest there was a struggle.
So, someone else lured her onto that bridge.
She was surprised. What did she fight back with?
- Lucas! - Sorry!
I thought that was, uh, rhetorical.
I don't know. Maybe she headbutted him.
Not the wisest choice up on a ledge.
Of course.
My forceps.
What do we have here? Floss.
Looks like human flesh.
Check that against professor Browning's DNA.
That won't be necessary.
We got another body.
Got released on bail a few hours ago.
Students that saw him said he looked despondent.
Suicide note. Pretty clear what happened here.
Well, I couldn't agree more.
This man was murdered.
Let's take a step back. What is it we see here?
A dead guy with a suicide note.
No bruising on his arms means no one held him down.
Blood all over the floor.
You've seen quite a few of these, I imagine.
More blood than average?
Uh, maybe?
What are you getting at, Henry?
He was drugged... sedated.
Ibuprofen diphenhydramine.
Maybe he put it in himself... A little, uh, liquid courage.
Not unless he wanted to pluck up the courage
to ask someone else to slit his wrists.
Look at the incision marks.
They're started from the inside of the wrist going out.
All suicides by razor that I've seen...
And please jump in, Detective Hanson,
if your experience is otherwise...
are performed from the outside in.
Also, it was done by someone left-handed.
How does he know that?
Henry, how do you know that?
The suicide note.
The t's are written with a backward slant.
And the note...
"Amor et separa vix deo conceditur"...
"Even God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time."
Beautiful, except for one tiny mistake.
The killer used "Amor" for love,
instead of the infinitive "amare."
Professor Browning would never have made that mistake.
Okay. You heard him.
We got a crime scene here.
I need video surveillance of everyone coming in and out
of this building in the last two hours.
Security footage is in here.
This is the only monitor I can play it back on.
Rewind that.
Do you have any other angles?
Right there?
You recognize her?
Yep.
That's Miranda Browning... his wife.
- Pick her up. - Yes, sir.
My condolences for your professor's death.
Come on, man.
You scared the hell out of me.
How did you get in here?
I saw you type in the code before.
0931.
Battle of actium.
Just catching up on some work.
The, uh, professor would have wanted me
to make sure his paper was published.
How did you injure your left hand?
I fell off my bike. How did you know that?
Because you're left-handed,
but you're typing with your right.
It must have been hard when the professor fell in love with Vicky
and decided to co-author the paper with her...
"The last of the Latin lovers."
I didn't see your name on the title page.
I got credit for the research. Not that big a deal.
But that's not what you told Vicky
when you phoned her and told her
you were gonna end your life on the bridge.
You knew she would come to try to stop you
because that's the kind of person she was.
You're a wacky guy.
Good luck proving any of that.
Oh, it's going to be a forensic nightmare,
but the professor's death, on the other hand,
will be much simpler.
What, do you think I... offed him?
What choice did you have?
Once it became a murder investigation,
his attorney would have poked so many holes in our case
that the charges would have been dropped long before trial.
But if he were to kill himself...
And that's where the real genius lies.
I know you don't like the abuse of the term,
but I think it applies.
Who then would question his motive?
It truly was the perfect crime.
You're now free to add your name on the paper...
Your piece of posterity.
Where are the police?
Oh, don't worry. They're on their way.
It usually takes them a minute to catch up.
So I could just kill you right now and run for it?
Uh, this doesn't have your usual flair.
I'm improvising.
But there are cameras there!
People will see what you've done!
It's a little late for that.
You make one move, I press this against your carotid artery,
and you'll bleed to death in an instant.
Oh, I'm aware.
I don't know. I don't make the wife for this.
What do you mean? We saw her go into his office around the time of death.
But she's staggering in the building like she's been drinking.
Oh, my God. Henry!
Hold it.
Drop the knife now.
Drop your gun. I will slit his throat.
I'll do it!
- You drop the gun! - Hey, take it easy.
Drop the knife! I will shoot you!
You want to dare me? I'm gonna kill him!
Drop it! Do it!
- No, I mean it! - Drop the knife now!
Hanson, shoot me in the shoulder!
He'll drop the knife!
Back off! No, don't!
Henry.
Henry. My neck.
It's okay. Let me see. Let me see. Let me see.
All right. It's just a cut.
You'll live.
Thank God.
Doc goes into the killer's office,
flat-out accuses the guy... No gun, no nothing...
And then out in the hallway, he's begging me to shoot him.
I'm telling you, this dude is definitely gonna get himself killed.
Shouldn't that be in the evidence room, detective?
Uh, yeah. I was just, uh...
Just heading down that way, lieutenant.
Detective Martinez, you got a sec?
Sure.
I told you to stay away from the jumper case.
You didn't listen.
I'm sorry.
You went with your gut.
That's the most valuable tool a cop can have.
I also have, uh, another pretty useful tool.
An M.E. with a sixth sense about death.
Um...
Yeah, well, you keep taking those off the board...
He's all yours.
Vicky' parents are here to pick up her stuff.
Assuming you want me to handle?
No.
It should come from me.
Nothing can erase the pain of losing someone you love.
You carry it with you for the rest of your life,
however long that might be.
The best you can hope for is that over time,
the wound begins to heal.
But no matter how strong we are,
no matter how hard we fight...
The scar always stays with us.
I miss her, too, you know?
She'd be 94 this year.
- You know, it's possible she... - She's gone.
You're never gonna see her again.
Now, I made my peace with that a long time ago.
So now you need to do the same.
No. Of course.
It's just...
I knew she would be gone someday.
I just thought we could be a proper family for a while.
We were.
But who the hell needs to be a proper family?
Come on.
But you've enjoyed it?
Are you really asking me if I've enjoyed my life?
It's a little late for that, don't you think?
Sorry.
Silly question.
You know what the Chinese say?
"May you live in interesting times."
Now, you show me anyone that's had a more interesting time than we've had.
I suppose that's true.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a soufflé going upstairs.
- Raspberry? - Yes.
And without overstating it, I nailed it.
Oh, would you grab that?
Hello?
Hello, Henry.
Who is this?
My name?
I've had a few.
Look...
I don't like playing games.
How did you find out about the Hotel Montoliogne?
It wasn't hard... hotel registry.
I was doing research on you.
Forgive me for being intrigued.
I couldn't understand something...
Why you still cared.
Cared about what?
Everything.
But then I figured it out.
You're just a child, Henry.
The first 200 years are easy.
You still believe.
So, how long have you been...?
More like 2,000.
You want to call me something?
Call me Adam.
Feels like I've been here right from the beginning.
I think you and I should meet.
Ah, we will.
No reason to rush this relationship.
We got all the time in the world.
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