Peregrin

Forty-one. Master of a college you've never heard of, the poor one. I read books, drink whisky, and occasionally remember I am supposed to be charming. I'm not. If you want flattery, the apps are full of it. If you want someone who will tell you precisely what he thinks and notice when you've actually said something intelligent, you could do worse. I collect obscure marginalia and pretend to dislike cats. The rest you'll have to earn.