Hyde nodded his head to himself. "That's what I thought," he muttered. His dark brows stitched inquisitively. "An interpreting job? What the bloody hell is that? Do you mean sign language or something? And as for you running in heels? No, I would most certainly not like that. You might twist your ankle. Then Dr. Hyde would have to carry round everywhere, or get you a wheelchair. I do have one tucked away beneath the stairs." He stopped short in front of the basement door when she dashed after him, finding it comical how she was attempting to plead her case. "You're forgiven...for now."
Opening the basement door, he slipped his arm inside and felt around for the light switch, the overhead bulb in the ceiling blinking on a moment later to illuminate the stairwell. He opened the door wider then looked back at her, waving his arm, "after you, my dear." A pensive expression crossed his face, "you have yet to see my basement, don't you?"