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contact part deux
if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message
He's new to this. New enough to need to shadow - take notes for the field agents -
"Katelin Boudier," Double-checking the name he's scratched on slate. Bood-yeh. He'll backtrack later, figure out how it ought to be written, "Invited you to a dinner?"
"Katelin Boudier," Double-checking the name he's scratched on slate. Bood-yeh. He'll backtrack later, figure out how it ought to be written, "Invited you to a dinner?"
"Ah," says Byerly, "Katelin."
Byerly, it should be noted, has never spoken to this sweet-faced newcomer before. But Byerly has a perpetually knowing air, even when he does not in fact know things. So the way he addresses Cedric is familiar and comfortable. This sounds like a conversation between friends, in a way that will likely please Cedric if he's the sort of fellow who trusts a friendly stranger and rankle him if he's not.
"Does it have to be dinner? She's phenomenal company, but she has the worst cook in the world. I nearly died shitting myself the last time I went over to her place."
Byerly, it should be noted, has never spoken to this sweet-faced newcomer before. But Byerly has a perpetually knowing air, even when he does not in fact know things. So the way he addresses Cedric is familiar and comfortable. This sounds like a conversation between friends, in a way that will likely please Cedric if he's the sort of fellow who trusts a friendly stranger and rankle him if he's not.
"Does it have to be dinner? She's phenomenal company, but she has the worst cook in the world. I nearly died shitting myself the last time I went over to her place."
"Didn't take her for military,"
Could be an easy quip, if he wasn't checking Byerly's expression from the corner of his eye. Cedric isn't unaware of the man's old title - and the relief with which he's sunk into the casual has been tempered by a faint, persistent whiff of desperation.
"She thought you could help her with," Fumbling to remember: "Her petition for a title?"
Something, something, failure to ratify.
Could be an easy quip, if he wasn't checking Byerly's expression from the corner of his eye. Cedric isn't unaware of the man's old title - and the relief with which he's sunk into the casual has been tempered by a faint, persistent whiff of desperation.
"She thought you could help her with," Fumbling to remember: "Her petition for a title?"
Something, something, failure to ratify.
[ There are only so many quiet, company-free nights in, in the Rutyer-No Last Name household, but this is one of them, arrived just in time for Bastien to be relieved and grateful for it. He's already in bed when Byerly comes home, propped up on pillows and reading by oil lamp, and the cold is incentive enough for him to stay there when the front door opens and closes and various ears prick up.
Once By makes it upstairs and into the bedroom, he says, ]
What is the earliest thing you remember?
[ instead of hello, welcome home, how was the thing. But the dogs' tails are both going, and Bastien's smile over the top of his book is about equivalent in happy-to-see-him energy. ]
This heroine remembered a murder that happened when she was two. That can't be possible.
Once By makes it upstairs and into the bedroom, he says, ]
What is the earliest thing you remember?
[ instead of hello, welcome home, how was the thing. But the dogs' tails are both going, and Bastien's smile over the top of his book is about equivalent in happy-to-see-him energy. ]
This heroine remembered a murder that happened when she was two. That can't be possible.
[ Byerly immediately squints, trying most mightily to remember. He's halfway through unbuttoning his waistcoat when he finally comes up with - ]
I don't think I have anything till I was probably six or seven. Getting caught by a wave and tumbling around in it.
[ His hand comes down to grab Rat Red around her tiny ribcage, and he places her on his shoulder as he continues undressing. Her balance is astonishing as she perches there like a parrot, stiletto-thin tail beating against the side of his neck. ]
What about you?
I don't think I have anything till I was probably six or seven. Getting caught by a wave and tumbling around in it.
[ His hand comes down to grab Rat Red around her tiny ribcage, and he places her on his shoulder as he continues undressing. Her balance is astonishing as she perches there like a parrot, stiletto-thin tail beating against the side of his neck. ]
What about you?
Not two. But younger than seven. My father told me when I turned seven, and it was a long time before that. Maybe five?
[ Bastien abandons any pretense that he'll be reading his book in the next few minutes, rather than watching Byerly's combination circus dog act and striptease. He lets the book fall back flat on his knees and tips his chin back, head against the headboard, to watch at a tilt. ]
There was a baby. It could have been Lyes or it could have been one of the ones who didn't make it, [ with no melancholy. ] I don't know. But not two.
I am going to write the author a letter.
[ Bastien abandons any pretense that he'll be reading his book in the next few minutes, rather than watching Byerly's combination circus dog act and striptease. He lets the book fall back flat on his knees and tips his chin back, head against the headboard, to watch at a tilt. ]
There was a baby. It could have been Lyes or it could have been one of the ones who didn't make it, [ with no melancholy. ] I don't know. But not two.
I am going to write the author a letter.
"Hah," says Byerly, cheerful, evidently amused enough by the joke in a mild sort of way. It's not the funniest, but it's charming, and By is in a mood to be charmed.
"That's such a tiresome old thing, the matter of the title. I don't suppose you'd want to go in my place?" He taps his chin. "If we pasted a beard and mustache on you, and you stayed up for a few days in a row, you might pass for me."
"That's such a tiresome old thing, the matter of the title. I don't suppose you'd want to go in my place?" He taps his chin. "If we pasted a beard and mustache on you, and you stayed up for a few days in a row, you might pass for me."
[ Bastien's grin widens, preemptively delighted. ]
Prudencia Gauthier.
[ He raises the book again to display the title: Trouver l'amour dans un donjon, with an image of manacles stamped onto the cover.
The contents are in fact even trashier than these two things imply. ]
Prudencia Gauthier.
[ He raises the book again to display the title: Trouver l'amour dans un donjon, with an image of manacles stamped onto the cover.
The contents are in fact even trashier than these two things imply. ]
[ Byerly laughs delightedly at that. He adores Bastien; he adores trashiness; his favorite thing is when these two things are combined. ]
Dear Madame Gauthier: First, thank you for your utter and salacious lack of taste. - Is our heroine in the dungeon?
Dear Madame Gauthier: First, thank you for your utter and salacious lack of taste. - Is our heroine in the dungeon?
Of course. Chained to the wall. And chained next to her: her sworn enemy, scion of the house that destroyed her family. They have both been captured by the same villain. Sometimes one is torture, sometimes they other. Sometimes they are forced to help. She always imagined she would enjoy making her rival bleed, and she does—but something like pity stirs, too.
[ His tone changes as he ends this salacious recapping. ]
This is as far as I got before this memory nonsense.
[ Rat Red, on Byerly's shoulder, is trying to sniff inside his ear. Whiskey shifts into a position that causes her to snore. ]
[ His tone changes as he ends this salacious recapping. ]
This is as far as I got before this memory nonsense.
[ Rat Red, on Byerly's shoulder, is trying to sniff inside his ear. Whiskey shifts into a position that causes her to snore. ]
Rascal.
[ He says this fondly to Rat Red, and then removes her from his shoulder to tuck her into the crook of his elbow. The striptease becomes something a bit more urgent as clothes come off and the cold hits him, and he shimmies out of his last few garments more quickly. ]
Anyway, that's all very kinky, isn't it? I'm actually rather impressed. Maybe impressed enough to forgive the memory nonsense. Did the rival murder her family? Perhaps as a particularly deadly baby himself?
[ He says this fondly to Rat Red, and then removes her from his shoulder to tuck her into the crook of his elbow. The striptease becomes something a bit more urgent as clothes come off and the cold hits him, and he shimmies out of his last few garments more quickly. ]
Anyway, that's all very kinky, isn't it? I'm actually rather impressed. Maybe impressed enough to forgive the memory nonsense. Did the rival murder her family? Perhaps as a particularly deadly baby himself?
[ Bastien lolls his head to the side and grins. From one side of that grin the tip of his tongue briefly appears to rest thoughtfully against the corner of his mouth.
He's not thinking about the book. But there are too many dogs in the room for him to do more than think about not-the-book—and briefly—so he says, ]
His father did. Or did he? It all depends on the memory formed by a two-year-old.
He's not thinking about the book. But there are too many dogs in the room for him to do more than think about not-the-book—and briefly—so he says, ]
His father did. Or did he? It all depends on the memory formed by a two-year-old.
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