He found a white shirt belonging to Forget Me Not in his suitcase, and buried the tip of his nose in the clothes, sniffing it hard, trying desperately to catch in it the scent he knew so well from that Chicago guy. But there was nothing there, except for a little blood-like ink stain splattered as from a heart that had been broken open.
Pavia: Chicago Guy, I'm thinking that when you die, I'm going to have to take away, sell, or drink all your booze.
Forget Me Not: No need to worry about that, but we do have a shortage of people - like a Sicilian hybrid mercenary as a potion tester, and in payment we'll provide a free lifetime tour of the secret rooms of Walden.
P: If you promise me that I can live to be 99 years old with food and drink and twelve hours of airtime a day, I'll give you my word.
F: Actually, what was said was an informative, not an enquiry.
P: ...Hey Foundation is anyone there can help I've been kidnapped by evil terrorists.
F: Go get the pineapple pizza and gag our dear guest, Schneider.