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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[sulahnan]

Her fluttering wave is both a dismissal and an agreement. Anyway.

"That's not the point."

[bouchonne]

"The point is - what? You want to be scolded for doing something illegal?"

[sulahnan]

"No! Augh!"

Athessa lets her head fall against the back of the chair with a soft paff of her curls hitting the upholstery, eyes imploring the ceiling for patience, or a better vocabulary with which she might actually say something that he'll understand.

"The point is," she tells the rafters. She takes a breath, lets it go. And another, before she continues. "That it hurts. To be shut out when I'm already hurt. And I wasn't keeping secrets or not trusting you or whatever you might've thought when I said I didn't want to talk about it."

[bouchonne]

Any looseness or good humor that had emerged when they'd started inching away from this subject evaporates again. The tension returns to his face; his hands thread together, long fingers twisting themselves nearly into knots.

"I'm not - Shutting you out. There's nothing to be shut out of." Then - "I apologize for pressing you, before. I was wrong to do so."

[sulahnan]

It strikes her as a bit sad that apologies have been so few and far between that, much like love, she never learned how to deal with them. A dozen different responses make it no further than the back of her throat before she presses her lips into a tight line — a perfunctory facsimile of a smile — and nods once.

Rather than let the silence stretch out uncomfortably long, Athessa leans forward and nudges her glass in Byerly's direction. Pour, please.

[bouchonne]

By lets out a breath. Leans forward and pours. Then sits back and takes up his own glass, drinks deep.

Finally - "You haven't done anything wrong. I'm the one who does things wrong. You're fine."

[sulahnan]

Athessa scoffs with the glass halfway to her lips.

"Please. You don't have a monopoly on doing things wrong." The mead isn't exactly how her grandmother made it, but it's pretty close. Considering she didn't have a recipe to work from, it's a win in her book.

[bouchonne]

Fine. A little gesture of his hand.

"In this, I mean."

[sulahnan]

A non-committal hmm sound.

"How is it?" She asks, looking up from her drink to raise her brows at Byerly. "I'm guessing this is one of those things that gets better with age, and this batch is only a couple months old, but..."

[bouchonne]

"A bit sweet," he answers bluntly. "You should let the primary fermentation go longer to get a dryer brew. Few off flavors, though, which is the primary issue with most meads."

And then another sip.

[sulahnan]

Athessa takes note, nodding, then... confusion.

"Dryer," she repeats. Squints slightly.

[bouchonne]

"Less sweet."

[sulahnan]

"It's made outta honey, though..."

Perhaps most notably: "And still liquid."

Yes, it is honestly confusing, but she is also being a little brat.

[bouchonne]

"Dear Bard-in-training," he says drolly, "you should learn how people describe wine."

[sulahnan]

"I'll just describe it like people. It'll be a charming eccentricity."

She takes another sip, smacks her lips quietly, and nods.

"Easy on the nose and legs that go all the way up."

[bouchonne]

Byerly sighs heavily. C'mon, man.

[sulahnan]

She doesn't even try to look innocent, she just shrugs.

"I'll work on it. Not the mead. Wysteria's house is incredibly haunted."

[bouchonne]

"I'll take your word for it. I've never had much fondness for ghosts."

[sulahnan]

"Especially when there are so many better spirits to be acquainted with."

[bouchonne]

He lifts his glass. A pun worthy of his own wit.

[sulahnan]

Ah, satisfaction. Somehow Athessa couldn't have predicted what scoring a point in a not-quite-battle of wits with Byerly would feel like, but his simple acknowledgment of her pun is very satisfying.

She smiles down at her glass.

[bouchonne]

"Well," he says with a shrug, "thank you for the bottle. Always exciting to discover something new."

The comment has the air of will that be it? Because Byerly is deeply, deeply dedicated to dodging discussing his feelings.

[sulahnan]

Athessa nods, and moves to stand. "A new version of something old, at least. My grandmother used to make rowan mead at the end of every summer."

Instead of moving towards the door, she steps around the side of his desk to stand beside his chair, looking down at him apologetically. "But now I have to subject you to something truly awful."

[bouchonne]

That brings a ripple of tension into his shoulders and neck. Perhaps it's the spy training that's left him deeply paranoid, or perhaps it's the wariness of a kid who constantly got his ass kicked who grew up into a man who constantly gets his ass kicked, but he can't hear something like that and not stress a little. Even from this source. Hell, maybe especially from this source - Athessa is of the sort of character where he wouldn't be shocked if she hit him one day.

"And that is?"

[sulahnan]

The action might surprise him, but it won't be because of its speed; Athessa is markedly unhurried as she leans down to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It's something of an awkward hug, with him more or less sideways to her and seated where she's standing, but that's all it is. A hug. Her cheek rests against his back.

"Thank you for apologizing. I'm sorry I worried you."