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

Comments

[untiltheyarent]

Merci. [She smiles sincerely, but there’s a hesitance to it as they take their drinks.]

Empress Celene, [she says drily,] or Duke Gaspard. Or both, depending on how you look at it.

[A table opens up, and she slips into one of the chairs, holding the other for Byerly.]

My husband was killed in the War of the Lions. Conscripted, [she adds gently,] he was no soldier. An accountant.

[bouchonne]

[ His face flows smoothly from amusement into sympathy as she speaks, eyes softening. He sits. ]

How long were you married?

[untiltheyarent]

[She sips at her wine.]

A few years, though he courted me for longer.

[A fond smile crosses her features, though she drops her gaze, limiting the view of what might be going on behind her eyes.]

Madame Fournier died with him, I'm afraid. His family never acknowledged me.

[She blinks, her glance briefly fluttering back to Byerly,]

Humans. [you know how it goes.]

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. With just a hint of surprise - ]

He was human? Your husband?

[untiltheyarent]

Oui.

[She traces the rim of her wine glass with her finger.]

My Jacques. There are so few people in this world who you can look at, and you can say... this one is good. He had a good heart. I have never known anyone like him.

[Her brow creases faintly, betraying the briefest flash of pain.]

He had no business going to war.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly thinks of that dream they all had - the dream of a miserable future. He thinks of Bastien, dead for many years in that reality. He remembers the pain having been sharp, even years later. ]

And all because powerful people saw men as no more than toy soldiers to play with and crush. I am sorry, Madame Fournier.

[untiltheyarent]

[She looks faintly surprised to be called that, even if it was she who just disclosed the title's significance. The smile returns to her face, softer.]

So it goes, [she replies, shrugging one shoulder, the mask of stillness returning.]

Shall we dance again?

[bouchonne]

Of course.

[ He holds out his hand to her. When she takes it, he'll lead her once again to the dance floor - this one a slightly more sedate sort of waltz. One of the moves for more daring pairs is for one partner to lift the other high in the air - he considers Fifi (quite small and light), but then thinks of himself, and decides: he'd throw his back out. So he sticks to the saner, both-feet-on-the-floor approach, and leaves the acrobatics to the young ones. ]

[untiltheyarent]

[Following his gaze, Fifi’s smile is playful, her quiet urging equally so:]

Try it. All the hard work is mine.

[Rather than give him the chance to say no, she positions herself, guiding his arms.]

Besides, I trust you. You haven’t had a drop to drink.

[Her glance back at him offers the most fleeting of winks— of course she knows, she’s the one who straightens his bottles.]

[bouchonne]

[ That last comment flusters him just a little. ]

But if I drop you -

[ But the beat in the music comes - and he lifts. ]

[untiltheyarent]

Trust me, [is chided with a giggle, and she gives a little jump right on cue.

True to what she said, Fifi holds herself aloft and executes the flourish herself with trained elegance, relying on Byerly only as a flag relies on its pole.
When she lands and returns to the waltzing position, she raises her eyebrows at him. See?]

[bouchonne]

All right -

[ He admits, laughing, as the other dancers around them issue nods of approval - ]

You're very good. Thank you for making me look powerful and manly.

[untiltheyarent]

[She smiles, giving a little curtsy.]

It was a combined effort, Messere. Think nothing of it.