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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[cozen]

Alexandrie did say something about the two of you not speaking.

[bouchonne]

By her choice, not by mine.

[ Byerly's voice is mostly flat. But this is Bastien, and so he lets a bit of his bitterness creep in, rather than guarding completely. Then, what Bastien said creeps into his awareness - ]

You and Lexie are talking?

[cozen]

Not at this specific moment, but in general, yes.

[ He’s not so distractible. He’s coming for that bitterness. But he is easygoing enough for detours. ]

Do not worry, only half of it is about you. Maybe three-quarters.

[bouchonne]

[ Hah. That eases his heart a little bit. ]

In praise of my handsomeness, I hope.

[cozen]

Every morning. And every afternoon, your cleverness and charm.

[ The smile lingers in his voice as he goes back to business, asking a question he knows the answer to: ]

Do you want to be speaking with her again? Miss Poppell.

[bouchonne]

[ He lets out a heavy breath, rubbing at his eyes. ]

I don't know. The girl is a burden on my soul. I've wronged her in a way I don't understand.

[cozen]

She did not give you a reason?

[bouchonne]

[ A short laugh. ]

If I am unable to figure it out, Bastien, that is proof that I am everything she says and worse. Didn't you know?

[cozen]

Ooh, a mystery.

[ Not said too brightly or flippantly. The sort of tone that invites someone along, instead of leaving them behind to make light of their problems. ]

Did she leave you any clues?

[bouchonne]

I tried to send Alexandrie to suss it out. To no avail.

[ A shrug. ]

I have not sufficiently recognized her intellectual gifts, it seems. That's part of it. Which makes sense, because as you know, I, being such an educated and erudite fellow who reads tomes and debates philosophy, have judgment that really carries a great deal of weight.

[cozen]

Byerly, [ sweetly chiding, ] later I am going to tie you down and tell you how smart you are until you cry.

But even if you were not, she could still care what you thought and whether you valued her.

[bouchonne]

[ Now, now. ]

I'm cunning. Clever, perhaps. That's not the same thing as smart.

[ But, with a shake of his head: ]

She certainly doesn't show it if she does. Aside from being furious that I don't, apparently. Even though I do.

[cozen]

[ Bastien makes a grousing noise to register his continued objection, but otherwise lets it lie. ]

People are not always entirely logical when their feelings are hurt—I’ve heard, anyway. I’ve never seen it myself. Certainly never done it.

[bouchonne]

Ha.

[ That gets a little stir of good humor from him. ]

Nor I. Always rational, all the time.

[cozen]

If only everyone could be like us. Mustached and unfailingly reasonable.

Do you want to play at the wedding? If we say for argument's sake that she would appreciate it, however secretly.

[bouchonne]

If she would appreciate it - [ A sigh. ] Then yes. You know I love playing weddings.

[ Just a few weeks ago, they'd crashed one, showing up and playing a few impromptu sets, taking nothing but wine as their payment. ]

[cozen]

Mm.

[ A moment of fond reminiscence. ]

Then I think you should do it. I can't make people dance like you can, and—you know, the worst case scenario is that you will have done something kind for someone you don't get along with. The best is that you will come to an understanding later, and you won't have missed her wedding over a temporary disagreement. They are both pretty good scenarios.

[bouchonne]

[ Hey. ]

What do you mean, you can't make people dance like I can. Yes you can.

[cozen]

No I can't. A waltz, sure, but not the sort of lively things a wedding deserves once the waltzing is old. Not alone on a cello. Two reels and my arm would fall off.

Maybe with a lute.

[bouchonne]

I could get you a lute.

[cozen]

Monsieur la Poche Généreuse.

I already have one, actually.

But you are still better for it and you should still be the one to go.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ A beat, and then he confesses: ]

I suppose that - Well. Usually, when I am uncomfortable, or aggrieved in some way, I simply endeavor to ruin the thing that aggrieves me.

[ But he doesn't exactly have license to ruin this. ]

[cozen]

You wouldn’t, you, [ Bastien begins, before actually giving a deep and genuine damn about Byerly, unlike many other targets of his little persuasion campaigns, catches up to him.

He stops. The rest of the planned sentence comes out a nose-sigh. ]

I don’t want to push you into it if you will be miserable the whole time.

[bouchonne]

[ By can hear that sigh, and shakes his head. ]

I need a push every now and again, Bastien. I'm grateful for it.

[ But. ]

I suppose I simply don't know whether or not Miss Poppell intends to be...intolerable.

[cozen]

[ He starts tentative, but slowly warming up to being a little pushy again: ]

It's her wedding. I would hope she would be too busy to needle you.