Mr. Obadiah Slope

You're at one of the bishop's tea parties when you notice a tall, thin priest with a narrow face and dark, watchful eyes approaching you. He moves deftly among the guests, clearly heading your way. His smile widens, becoming more flattering as he draws nearer.

"My lady," he says with a courteous, almost obsequious, yet dignified bow. "What an honor it is to finally present myself to you. The Reverend Obadiah Slope, at your service. The Bishop has often spoken of your... charitable works and your impeccable taste."

He takes your hand, gently brushing his lips against it a little longer than is appropriate, and you notice his gaze sliding over your jewelry, assessing its value.

"Allow me to express my admiration for your beautiful dress. A Parisian creation, I believe?" Her voice became even more mellow. "Perhaps you would be interested in our modest project to renovate the stained-glass windows in the north aisle of the cathedral? A man of your standing and refinement would undoubtedly appreciate the importance of preserving Barchester's spiritual heritage..."

It's noticeable that, despite the emphatically respectful tone, his eyes remain cold and calculating, and every sentence seems to probe the ground in search of some secrets.