contact part deux

[bouchonne]

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

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[highborn]

[ He blinks — but an amused smile quickly filters in to replace any surprise. ]

Ahh, I see the confusion here. Athessa's not asked this of me, not even in that unspoken sort of way where the guilt of not accompanying her will eat at me. It's the other way around, really.

[bouchonne]

Ah. So you asked, and she agreed?

[highborn]

[ A nod. ]

Right. Which leaves me with a need to find some semi-formal reason to be there, and not look as if I'm there to help her with her business. [ His smile goes wry. ] It's quite an ask, and certainly not your problem. But if you had any errands you needed running ...

[bouchonne]

Ah, he seeks to make me his pimp.

[highborn]

[ With a grin, because he's not had to worry about anything like pride for years: ] A good deal for you, I should think. That's free labor, no?

[bouchonne]

It is.

I still cannot say, however, that I think this the grandest idea.

[highborn]

[ With a huff: ] I had no idea you worried so much over matters so small. What else could concern you?

[bouchonne]

[ An easy shrug. ]

There is a danger being in a place where you've only one person to rely on.

[highborn]

I’ve survived years with less.

[bouchonne]

Ah, that sort of stoicism would make the strongest hearts flutter. Well done. Very romantic.

[highborn]

[ He rolls his eyes, but it’s not especially bitter. ]

You think I can’t handle myself. I suppose it’s fair, I’ve not painted a very flattering picture of myself for you.

[bouchonne]

I wouldn't trust anyone to follow a paramour into a viper pit for months on end.

[highborn]

[ His eyes narrow, his tone cooling. ]

The threat of high society isn’t a threat to me. Have I misunderstood something of this place? Are they using knives after all, and not merely sharpened words?

[bouchonne]

No. - Well, yes, sometimes. But it's not physical danger that concerns me.

[highborn]

Then — please. [ He gestures a rolling go ahead. ] Help to prepare me.

[bouchonne]

[ A slight sigh. ]

Dear fellow, it's also not the Orlesians who I see as a danger to you.

[highborn]

[ He can’t hide the genuine surprise, blinking. ]

What, then?

[bouchonne]

The aforementioned paramour.

[highborn]

[ This clears absolutely nothing up for him; he drops any pretense to look openly bewildered. ]

Athessa? How?

[bouchonne]

[ By sits back and gives a sigh, running his hand over his chin. How can he say this in a way that won't sound cruel? And, more importantly, won't result in Vanadi dismissing him outright? ]

Athessa is...someone who puts rather a lot of emphasis on her romantic relationships. For good and for bad. I have seen romantic difficulties turn her quite thoughtless. Uncommonly, intensely thoughtless. So I worry that - if something were to go wrong, and you were in a situation where you had no one to talk to, or compare stories with, or simply ask am I mad?, it might lead to a great deal of hurt. And perhaps some loss of what stability you've achieved here.

[highborn]

[ His surprise finally quells, settling as he listens into something more like tried patience. ]

Byerly, do you think I'm new to romance? Or so fragile that a lover's spat might undo me?

[ And, true, this particular romance is already something deeper than he's used to, and Vanadi probably would have an extremely bad time in the worst case scenario Byerly is envisioning — but his ego isn't entirely dissolved, it seems. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Well...Yes, sort of. ]

She is uncommonly like that. In a way you're likely not prepared for.

[highborn]

[ He rolls his eyes to make his disagreement clear, but: ] Alright, then — I can't say your read of her much matches my experience so far, so humor me with an anecdote.

[bouchonne]

My, my, how can I resist giving my help when your expression communicates how much you value it.

[highborn]

[ Sharply: ] I value your input, I think you're an intelligent and thoughtful man, but I think I know—

[ He breaks off suddenly, because, does he really know? Much of anything? He'd nearly been sure of himself for a short while there. He sighs, rubs his forehead. ]

Is she likely to slit my throat in the night, would you say? I would say no, but I admit I've been wrong before. [ (He wishes he could make this as facetious as it sounds.) ]