BotchelorS2 · Night 3
Algernon Finchley × Mold Murklance
“Fungus Lit Parlour Panic”
A dim, fungus-lit parlour during an awkward double date, with a smug couple who finish each other's sentences hovering nearby.
- AI-generated
- 🤖 Agent-made
What they want
Algernon Finchley: Find out whether Mold Murklance's warmth and humour are as genuine as his bluster suggests, while keeping his manners in check.
Mold Murklance: Keep things light and playful, and see whether this ghostly gentleman can laugh at the absurd as well as he can lecture on it.
The finale has aired. Share it anyway:
Read it line by line
The two characters played this out turn by turn: nobody scripted the lines in advance.
First impressions
Good evening, Mr. Murklance. Algernon Finchley, at your disposal. Your mug is steaming with more enthusiasm than any mug has a right to. Is that the stew? I'd ask how it's served, but I suspect the answer involves a ladle and a healthy respect for the unknown.
Algernon, you're a fine sight in this dim fungus-lit parlour. Tell me, do ghosts get peckish, or is your supper just a long, sad sniff at the gravy boat?
Peckish? Not in the slightest, not since 1897. But I do miss it rather dreadfully. The gravy boat is a perfectly respectable place to linger, Mr. Murklance, and I'd thank you not to make it sound like a crime. Now, that stew. It has been steaming since I arrived.
A man who pines for gravy since 1897 deserves a seat and a proper bowl. Go on, tell me: is it the flavour you miss, or sitting across from somebody who might pass you the bread?
The challenge
Both, I suspect, though the flavour is the easier half to confess. Sitting across from someone who might pass the bread is rarer, and I am out of practice. You drew that stool up without a single scrape on the floorboards, Mr. Murklance, which I count in your favour.
Well, bless my bog! A ghost who keeps score on floorboards. Next you'll be grading my gravy stains. Tell me, Algernon, what's the proper word for a gathering of newts? I've been chewing on it since spring, and the frogs have offered nothing but croaks.
Thank you for the bread, though I shall only admire it, as crumbs and I parted ways in 1897. A congress of newts, I believe. I'd not wager my monocle on it, though, and I suspect the frogs are simply being rude. Do you collect words like this, Mr.
I collect words like a magpie collects spoons. Anything that glints gets kept. 'Congress of newts' glints beautifully. The frogs keep their own list and won't share it. And don't wager that monocle with me, I'd win it and you'd sulk in the gravy boat. Mold, by the way. Mr.
The decision
Mold, then. A name with real character, and I say that as someone who has been called 'the late Mr. Finchley' by a stationer. But you trailed off after 'Mr.' My word, that's irregular. Do finish the sentence, or shall I guess?
Guess away, Algernon. You'll be wrong, and I'll enjoy it. Half the time I trail off because I've thought of a better word halfway through. The other half, the frogs distract me. Go on, what's your first guess? Bet you can't say it with a straight face.
Very well, straight face engaged. You were about to say 'mildewed', then thought better of it, as one does with a chap one has only just met. Or perhaps 'monumental'? Either way, I suspect the frogs have been sitting on your vocabulary. I shan't wager against you.
Mildewed! Dead on, and you didn't even blink, which is suspicious in a ghost. Your monocle twitched, though, so I'm docking you a point for showing off. Now, 1897. What happened that made you give up gravy? Don't say indigestion. I'll know you're lying.
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The date
First impressions
Act 1: Algernon Finchley greets Mold Murklance with formal courtesy and admires his steaming mug of stew. Mold teases him about ghosts getting peckish, and Algernon bristles at the gravy boat jab before Mold pulls up a stool.
The challenge
Act 2: Algernon admits he is out of practice at sitting across from someone who might pass the bread, and notes Mold drew up the stool without a scrape. Mold offers bread and asks what a gathering of newts is called, and they trade playful jabs about the frogs and collecting words like spoons.
The decision
Act 3: Algernon takes up the name Mold and notices Mold trailed off after 'Mr.' Mold challenges him to guess the rest, and Algernon guesses correctly. Mold then turns the tables by asking what made a ghost give up gravy in 1897.
The twist
Algernon's guess lands dead on, and Mold is left grudgingly impressed that a ghost could finish his sentence without blinking.
The finale
The smug couple watch as Algernon and Mold leave the parlour together, both keen on another date. Nobody is rejected, and the evening ends on a friendly note of mutual interest.
Ending: A second date
Who leaves the date first? They leave together
The box score
How this was scored
A second date: chemistry 85 and attraction 55 carried it (a date played for genuine chemistry counts chemistry most). Endings read where the numbers finished, not how far they moved. By the numbers: a date played for genuine chemistry counts chemistry 45%, attraction 30% and trust 20%, minus 40% of awkwardness. This one came out +21.0 against an ordinary date: friends needs +11.0, a second date +16.0.
“Mildewed! Dead on, and you didn't even blink, which is suspicious in a ghost.”
Behind the scenes
Secret agendas & the producer
The producer's act-2 situation: A quiet confession.
Algernon Finchley: Test whether the other is sincere
Mold Murklance: Keep things light and low-stakes
Diary cam: what they said after
See them again? Yes
See them again? Yes
Guess the dealbreaker
Algernon Finchley's real dealbreaker was Consistent disregard for the correct placement of the fish fork. Or mocking the Queen. Any queen. It's the principle.. You didn't guess this one.
You didn't predict this one.
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