"Alright then." He leans in conspiratorially. "A confession. When I first moved to the Neath I was hired as an adjunct professor at Benthic. As I’ve already divulged, I use what sway I have to import casks of Surface wine. It really is essential to the proper cultivation of mushroom wine - one mustn’t forget what came before. Early on, though, you see, there was a girl I had met on the Surface. A student from the first class I taught. Nothing untoward happened at the time - though we had certainly caught each other’s eye." The professor continues, as he refills glasses all around.
"Well we wrote each other for months - letters that grew more and more passionate. Until she said the distance between us was unbearable and she had to see me. The only trouble was, legally, she wasn’t allowed in the Neath. Something about being a known radical, an enemy of the Bazaar…etc. So I arranged for her to come down the Canal in one of my wine shipments, which she was game for. When the steamer finally arrived, I unsealed the crate and - lo and behold - there she was, surrounded by empty bottles everywhere. Only she didn’t know several bottles were experimental mushroom vintages I had a peer propagate on the Surface. Apparently they made her tongue spore purple plumes. Turned her eyes lavendar as well."
"I had her tongue cured in a month - but she wasn’t able to talk much until then. Which served our purposes just fine." The professor sighs happily, and a little wistfully. "She got picked up by the Special Constables in the end. Once she saw the full scope of my research, she tried to smuggle my experiments back up top to fund her Anarchist friends in Vienna. She was a good girl all the same. Never did get her eyes back to their proper shade."