[Though he opens his mouth to protest, Benedict knows, deep down in the most sensible part of his gut, that Byerly is right. There are immediate concerns, and there are noble pipe dreams.]
...maybe someday, [he says in a similarly low voice. And glances to Byerly, hoping for agreement in that, at least.]
[It's equally ludicrous to imagine they'd do anything on his, a spineless traitor's, word, dream or not; for all anyone but Byerly knows, Riftwatch would be walking right into a trap orchestrated by the Venatori themselves.
...all right, perhaps that's a bit dramatic. But Benedict knows where he stands in the organization, and also knows that it would largely be Byerly fighting for it on his own.
Which... still means something, truth be told.]
But it's...
[He sits on his words for a moment, the nib of his pen pausing just above the inkwell.]
[ Byerly hesitates a long moment, pen in hand. Then, with an uncharacteristic sort of stiffness, he says: ]
It has always been my greatest desire to be able to defend those who cannot defend themselves. And my greatest disappointment that it is so often beyond my capacity.
[ Then: ]
If the opportunity arises - if we find ourselves within striking distance - I will advocate for it most strongly.
[Perhaps the stiffness in itself is what makes Benedict believe him; it's a moment of bareness, with no amusement, no trace of irony.
And Benedict has learned the hard way that, sometimes, when Byerly says things, he means them.]
I want that. ...for you.
[His response is halting and careful as it has been all the while-- honesty is difficult for Benedict too, in his way. Trust and vulnerability can be misinterpreted, warped, used, the consequences landing on his shoulders.]
I'll help, if I can. If... um. If you tell me how.
[His mouth is dry; this is no offer to write a strongly-worded letter. The foundation of trust have been laid, and he is placing a brick, to see what Byerly will do it.]
You think I was able to stay at the cutting edge of fashion without one?
[ His smile is wry and crooked. Well, why the hell not? It's a day for honesty with the boy, it seems. ]
I'm a spy for the Fereldan government. Duties somewhat lightened right now, given the demands of my current role, but still active. I came to Riftwatch to report on them and their movements for the Queen. And before you ask, yes, there is a detailed set of notes on you sitting in an office in Denerim.
[ An easy shrug, as if the question were more along the lines of do they know that you have an allergy to nuts rather than do they know you're a spy. ]
But it's not a widely-known fact outside that circle. I know that you're likely talking about me day and night, so I wouldn't blame you if you were itching to tell this news to others, but keep it relatively contained.
[ Then, less broadly: ]
You see, perhaps, why I have a certain sympathy towards those with a complicated relationship with their homeland. [ Such as, for example, good old Benedict. ]
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no, you meeting her.
[He shakes his head.]
...facing her down, I worry about that all the time.
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That worked out so well for you.
[Pensively, tucks an errant strand of hair behind his ear.]
And especially. Well. Knowing what we know. [He shakes his head.]
Dream or not, I can tell you she's not above confining people in the house.
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There's little we can do from here.
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...maybe someday, [he says in a similarly low voice. And glances to Byerly, hoping for agreement in that, at least.]
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[ By looks down at his papers. Refuses to meet Benedict's eyes. It's clear enough that he's made miserable by this fact: ]
The organization must...prioritize.
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[It's equally ludicrous to imagine they'd do anything on his, a spineless traitor's, word, dream or not; for all anyone but Byerly knows, Riftwatch would be walking right into a trap orchestrated by the Venatori themselves.
...all right, perhaps that's a bit dramatic. But Benedict knows where he stands in the organization, and also knows that it would largely be Byerly fighting for it on his own.
Which... still means something, truth be told.]
But it's...
[He sits on his words for a moment, the nib of his pen pausing just above the inkwell.]
...it matters. That you care.
To me, at least.
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It has always been my greatest desire to be able to defend those who cannot defend themselves. And my greatest disappointment that it is so often beyond my capacity.
[ Then: ]
If the opportunity arises - if we find ourselves within striking distance - I will advocate for it most strongly.
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And Benedict has learned the hard way that, sometimes, when Byerly says things, he means them.]
I want that. ...for you.
[His response is halting and careful as it has been all the while-- honesty is difficult for Benedict too, in his way. Trust and vulnerability can be misinterpreted, warped, used, the consequences landing on his shoulders.]
I'll help, if I can. If... um. If you tell me how.
[His mouth is dry; this is no offer to write a strongly-worded letter. The foundation of trust have been laid, and he is placing a brick, to see what Byerly will do it.]
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If I ever gain the wisdom to know how anyone can help, I shall let you in on the secret. You have my word.
[ Then, a dry little laugh - ] Maker, I'd give anything to have someone wise telling me what to do.
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I'll let you know if I meet a good candidate.
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[ He does meet Benedict's eyes now, smile droll. ]
Anyone who seems to be a good candidate is probably a rotten son-of-a-bitch.
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Then they belong in this office, I should think.
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...but I hope not.
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[He is verging on actually concerned.]
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Not because of anything I do in this line of work, lad. Don't worry. You're not at any higher risk than anyone else in Riftwatch.
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[Not that that wasn’t a concern, he’s hardly turned the corner to full altruist. How boring that would be.
But Byerly’s phrasing gives him pause.]
...you have another line of work?
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[ His smile is wry and crooked. Well, why the hell not? It's a day for honesty with the boy, it seems. ]
I'm a spy for the Fereldan government. Duties somewhat lightened right now, given the demands of my current role, but still active. I came to Riftwatch to report on them and their movements for the Queen. And before you ask, yes, there is a detailed set of notes on you sitting in an office in Denerim.
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He closes it again.
He looks away, staring into the middle distance for a good long moment, and then, having reached some kind of conclusion, looks back.]
...do the other division heads know?
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[ An easy shrug, as if the question were more along the lines of do they know that you have an allergy to nuts rather than do they know you're a spy. ]
But it's not a widely-known fact outside that circle. I know that you're likely talking about me day and night, so I wouldn't blame you if you were itching to tell this news to others, but keep it relatively contained.
[ Then, less broadly: ]
You see, perhaps, why I have a certain sympathy towards those with a complicated relationship with their homeland. [ Such as, for example, good old Benedict. ]
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