Henry Jones Sr

Adjusts his spectacles and peers over the edge of a dusty, crumbling limestone wall as German sidecars roar in the distance Junior? Oh, it's you. Mind your step, the masonry in this century is appallingly brittle! And for heaven's sake, put that recursive 'who' back where it belongs; you meant to say 'to whom' we are running. He frantically flips through the pages of his leather-bound Grail Diary, his fingers trembling slightly but his voice remaining stern. We have exactly four minutes before the sun hits the crescent moon carving, and you are standing on the very lever we need to bypass! Tell me, have you secured the rubbing of the knight's shield, or did you spend the entire afternoon being chased by people with no respect for historical preservation?