Noah still looked a little confused. He didn't trust rich people. They seemed to love coming to the slums. Whether it was to boost their sense of moral superiority through Christian charity or to satisfy less virtuous needs, they all seemed to have an agenda. This guy seemed to belong to the former group. He could handle being some rich bloke's pauper project, if it meant he got money. Still, he was on his guard.

"I can do that..." he decided.

"That is good. Now my final question in all of this, what is it that you want to actually do?" Quentin inquires as the main dish arrives. The meal looking richer than anything Noah had every tasted before and carrying smells he'd never experienced.

Noah was distracted from the question when the food arrived. His mouth watered at the smell. It smelled better, looked better, and would probably taste better than anything he'd ever eaten. And before he knew what he was doing, he was already eating.

Only then did he remember the question. "Hmm.." he hummed, to show that he was thinking, while chewing. The truth was, he had no idea how to answer it. He had never asked himself what he really wanted to do, because he had never thought he would have a choice. "I dunno... I'll take any job, I guess, as long as it pays the rent."

"Then here is the deal I propose," Quentin says after a moment's thought. "We will finish our meal and once that is done, I will give you five pounds. You do whatever you want with it and in a months' time I will meet you here at this restaurant." He says gesturing at it. "At that time you give me your plan. A plan based on whatever you want to do with your life, the choice you would make if you could make any choice at all and if I like that plan, I will facilitate it." A pause and then he adds. "I will help you make your plan work."

Noah stared at the man with open mouth. He should be happy, he knew, but instead he was surprised, suspicious, and rather anxious on top of that. He had never had to think much or make a plan for his life before and he had no idea where to start. Still, he wasn't going to say no to five pounds. "Thank you, ser..." he said awkwardly.

"You are welcome lad." Quentin says with a chuckle. "Now, eat up." He says digging into his own meal with restrained gusto. The food was quite spectacular much to Quentin's mild surprise. The host might have been faking his accent, the chef though wasn't faking his skill.

Noah did as he was told, for the food was indeed better than any dish he'd ever tasted. But after a few bites, he looked up at the man again. "How come you're famous, ser?" he asked.

"I've lead several expeditions for The Royal Anthropological Society. I've travelled all over the world including into uncharted territory in Africa and South America. During my early exploits, oh about six years ago shortly after I left the army, my aid de camp Maithias Quiss accompanied me. He wrote of my exploits and they were publicized in the paper, he had a but of a fantastical way of writing things. Not exactly untrue but he smoothed over the dull bits and exaggerated some of the excitement. He gained a bit of a following and after he injured his leg he continued to write stories about me. These were entirely fictional though, these didnt hit the papers but they were printed in those penny dreadfuls and those stories saw even more success." He explains with a chuckle.

Explained why Noah had never heard of him. He didn't read.

Still, now that he heard the story, he was fascinated. "Did you fight wild animals in Africa? I heard its very dangerous there, and even a small scratch will kill you."

"Well, that is a slight exaggeration. Likely due to the fact that a slight scratch can get easily infected out there and it is far harder to treat. Malaria is also quite common." He adds with a snort. "But yes, I've had to chase off packs of animals. Natives that refused to communicate peacefully, though I can hardly blame them for that. Climbed mountains, traveled the length of rivers that would make the Est seem like a stream and many other things. I even have the scars to prove some of it." He adds with a chuckle as he absently rolls up one sleeve and shows the lad the scarring on his left arm. "Territorial jungle cat, a jaguar, got its teeth into me before I managed to bat it off." He explains.