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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
Worry not, my opinion of you will reach the ears of no other.
[Aside from Beth, of course, when he'd told her you were a good man as well. Alas.]
Mm. [It isn't likely to breed resentment, a task like that, he supposes. No more than a little sting, easily moved past.] And what of his recompense for the rest of his work? A job well done needs praise as much as a poor hand begs punishment.
[Aside from Beth, of course, when he'd told her you were a good man as well. Alas.]
Mm. [It isn't likely to breed resentment, a task like that, he supposes. No more than a little sting, easily moved past.] And what of his recompense for the rest of his work? A job well done needs praise as much as a poor hand begs punishment.
Me?
[It seems confusion is, in fact, capable of being read even through the guise of an emotionless mask, if only for how Gabranth’s immediate head tilt paints the image of a hound unsettled.]
I hold no sway in this world. What merit does my own approval afford him?
[It seems confusion is, in fact, capable of being read even through the guise of an emotionless mask, if only for how Gabranth’s immediate head tilt paints the image of a hound unsettled.]
I hold no sway in this world. What merit does my own approval afford him?
...as you will it.
[Which, in Gabranth speak (something someone who knows him well enough might recognize) means 'I don't understand, but not enough to be stubborn about it and argue'. Punctuated, of course, by the formality of a stiff bowing of his head in acquiescence.]
If there is nothing more, then.
[Or would you like to argue about something else, Byerly? This kind of indulgence is a new one for him, after all, and he's not certain how it's meant to go.]
[Which, in Gabranth speak (something someone who knows him well enough might recognize) means 'I don't understand, but not enough to be stubborn about it and argue'. Punctuated, of course, by the formality of a stiff bowing of his head in acquiescence.]
If there is nothing more, then.
[Or would you like to argue about something else, Byerly? This kind of indulgence is a new one for him, after all, and he's not certain how it's meant to go.]
[It is a day like any other. Benedict got here a little earlier than Byerly to make his coffee, which he's wielding upon entry, his mind clearly elsewhere as he sets it down with a little smile of acknowledgment and turns to go back to his desk.]
[Well that’s a fine good morning for you. Benedict stops dead halfway to his desk, swiveling on his heel to fix Byerly with a look as startled as it is mortified.]
...what?
[He wracks his brain for reasons, and one arrives sooner than he thought— shit. The fake appointment.]
I’m sorry, [he says quickly.]
...what?
[He wracks his brain for reasons, and one arrives sooner than he thought— shit. The fake appointment.]
I’m sorry, [he says quickly.]
Edited 2021-04-27 01:27 (UTC)
[That smile— compared to the one he's most used to by way of leadership— might as well be a welcome sight in its familiarity. He isn't certain he's gotten the bargain he'd sought out (in fact, considering Gabranth's less-than-meager skills concerning positive reinforcement, there's no doubt he has not) but it sits close enough within the scope that he's willing to accept it by way of one last, single nod.]
As much as two such as us might hope for.
As much as two such as us might hope for.
[Wait. Why wouldn't he?
Is this a game, Maker's breath, he's gotten so good at knowing when things are games, but this has him completely at a loss.]
I'm...
[He winces, his eyebrows quirking as if in pain. Maybe it's not about the appointment, shit.]
...who else... would I apologize to?
Is this a game, Maker's breath, he's gotten so good at knowing when things are games, but this has him completely at a loss.]
I'm...
[He winces, his eyebrows quirking as if in pain. Maybe it's not about the appointment, shit.]
...who else... would I apologize to?
[He was framed, this is all a misunderstanding, he-- wait. Oh.
Bene is visibly taken aback.]
...I did.
[With a deep exhale, he backs up to sit against the edge of his desk, his hands curled over its edges to prop him up, a hangdog look overtaking any fearfulness. When he speaks again, it's with guilty resignation.]
I'm a little surprised he came to you about it.
Bene is visibly taken aback.]
...I did.
[With a deep exhale, he backs up to sit against the edge of his desk, his hands curled over its edges to prop him up, a hangdog look overtaking any fearfulness. When he speaks again, it's with guilty resignation.]
I'm a little surprised he came to you about it.
[ Like clockwork, ]
La lumière de ma vie, les aigus à mes basses, le centre beurré de mon pain,
[ is all very silly, if not entirely insincere. But he drops the tone and the wheedling to instead be quiet and frank when he gets to the point: ]
Will you play at Miss Poppell’s wedding?
La lumière de ma vie, les aigus à mes basses, le centre beurré de mon pain,
[ is all very silly, if not entirely insincere. But he drops the tone and the wheedling to instead be quiet and frank when he gets to the point: ]
Will you play at Miss Poppell’s wedding?
We are as Mist and nethicite in our predilections, is it so difficult to imagine that our difference in opinion might yet lead to more dissension the longer we press on?
[He asks it without inflection, without any amount of frustration or expectation on his part aside from the knowledge that he— bullish and cut from the cloth of certainty— and Byerly— slight and nimble of thought— would likely disagree on the matter of the very air itself if given chance to argue their case.]
[He asks it without inflection, without any amount of frustration or expectation on his part aside from the knowledge that he— bullish and cut from the cloth of certainty— and Byerly— slight and nimble of thought— would likely disagree on the matter of the very air itself if given chance to argue their case.]
[Ouch.
Benedict is silent a moment, fully caught in it.]
I suppose I thought we'd. Sorted it. He and I.
[His speech is halting and sheepish.]
Benedict is silent a moment, fully caught in it.]
I suppose I thought we'd. Sorted it. He and I.
[His speech is halting and sheepish.]
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Page 54 of 170