Things were slow, but progressing. After winning a debate about the nature of reality with the metalsmith by exposing a buffer overflow condition concerning the happiness of another fortress member in the foundry by smashing the foot of a miserable dwarf, punching him in the face, and forcefeeding him water until the cumulative subtractions caused him to suddenly, and inexplicably become euphorically ecstatic, he managed to pressure his debate partner into turning one of the 5 super rare and precious bars of platinum they had in the whole fortress into a several sections of fine platinum mesh. You simply couldn't make nitric acid in suitable yeilds without it.
You would be surprised how hard it was to get basic feedstocks for proper chemical synthesis in a place like this. Asking for salt met with blank expressions. "We ain't found anah rocksalt deposits, an the stone ain't right fer it!" One miner had argued. Mentioning that the ocean was made of salt water met with further protests that the salt was in the water, and couldn't be extracted. Clearly none of them had ever tried boiling it.
Finally resorting to paying jerry to carry buckets using a pole over his shoulders (due to his lack of hands) and to please bring them back full of sea water to the guffawing of recent fortress migrants, and making a few more bets concerning the recovery of said salt for other valuable items he would need, he returned to his room to get things cooking. Literally.
He had just managed to get things set up, the alcohol burner lit, and the green glass alembic and retort going turning a sample of river spirits into refined distilled alcohol for aspirin isolation when hugo's head poked into the room through the door, suspended by a long, scaly neck.
He had suffered enough with dragons to last a lifetime, and while he liked hugo, it was still not something he would ever get used to. Being startled by dragons, that is. He nearly dropped the retort from it.
Hugo meant well. He was just trying to find something useful to do, but his being 50 times bigger than a dwarf, barely fitting in the hallways, and accidentally breaking and setting things on fire since his transformation hadn't earned him very many brownie points. Then eric turned up.
Weird bit back his saved up tounge lashing; Roead hadn't gotten any leads on whatever power of enthrallment eric had been using larely, and spilling the beans too early could prove disasterous.
Thankfully, two birds were killed with one stone. Apparently urist mcminer had self-immolated in the recent magma plumbing after digging ahead of schedule, and the two wandered off to investigate, leaving him alone to work. He wondered to himself if he had just gotten so jaded that nothing really bothered him anymore, or if part of his humanity really was missing. Hearing that somebody had burned to death horribly would normally have illicited more of an emotional response... he would have to make a note of it.
The smell of delicious alcohol vapor filled the room as the retort trickled out a fine thread of distilled liquor into the collection dish.
At least some things still felt right. Science always felt good.
Setting up for dessication.. if jerry ever showed back up with that sea water.. he prepped the rest of his makeshift workbench in anticipation of a long night of glorious and relaxing chemistry.