[ Bastien snickers at length before cutting himself off. ]
No, [ he isn’t ruining anything, he isn’t making even clearly outrageous and impossible-for-several-reasons marriage jokes in front of Alexandrie unless she’s included, and most importantly, ] Madame de Cedoux will be there. She can never know that we spit. She can’t know we have saliva at all.
In the middle of class. She took in a breath to begin reciting the Chant, and then there was Little Lord Byerly, tearing through the room and out the window in his altogether.
[ Bastien's sensibilities are not modern enough (and his own behind not unswatted enough) for him to think that's awful. He laughs again.
And then—with no prompting or prodding or particular purpose, a rare thing becoming less rare—he volunteers: ]
I would never have done anything like that. Not around a Mother. The Chantry had breakfast. Sometimes work. So I was a sweet, perfect little suck-up.
Young Byerly might have hated me. [ And more to himself, ] Young Byerly in the Bannorn. Little Byerly in the—it is fun to say. Bannorn. Byerly in the Bannorn. Maybe I will write that song.
[ As if Bastien had been an incorruptible child. Obviously he wasn't. There's a short trail of bodies to prove it.
But for the joke. ]
Alright, Monsieur le Corrupteur. I am sure you have nothing to do but put your feet up and flirt— [ also extremely and obviously untrue ] —but I have work to do.
[ The very predictable ensuing silence is not quite total. He doesn’t disconnect. But the only sounds are rustling papers, a scratching pen, and a few seconds here and there of Bastien’s usual unfocused, meandering tune-humming. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ He grins in return. ]
Shove Wysteria and her beau out of the way. Declare, this wedding is ours! And then just aggressively spit.
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No, [ he isn’t ruining anything, he isn’t making even clearly outrageous and impossible-for-several-reasons marriage jokes in front of Alexandrie unless she’s included, and most importantly, ] Madame de Cedoux will be there. She can never know that we spit. She can’t know we have saliva at all.
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Oh, come now, she's so little. What's she going to do, fight us? We could take her.
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It would be like being naked in front of a Chantry Mother.
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[ Delighted by the retelling: ]
In the middle of class. She took in a breath to begin reciting the Chant, and then there was Little Lord Byerly, tearing through the room and out the window in his altogether.
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That is fantastic. What, were you—dared? overcome with a sudden need to be very free?
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[ A laugh - ]
I didn't even get anything for it. Just pride.
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And then—with no prompting or prodding or particular purpose, a rare thing becoming less rare—he volunteers: ]
I would never have done anything like that. Not around a Mother. The Chantry had breakfast. Sometimes work. So I was a sweet, perfect little suck-up.
Young Byerly might have hated me. [ And more to himself, ] Young Byerly in the Bannorn. Little Byerly in the—it is fun to say. Bannorn. Byerly in the Bannorn. Maybe I will write that song.
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[ He laughs, then says - ]
And young Byerly wouldn't have hated young Bastien. He would have adored him. A perfect little target for temptation and corruption? Oh, yes.
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[ As if Bastien had been an incorruptible child. Obviously he wasn't. There's a short trail of bodies to prove it.
But for the joke. ]
Alright, Monsieur le Corrupteur. I am sure you have nothing to do but put your feet up and flirt— [ also extremely and obviously untrue ] —but I have work to do.
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[ Not affronted. A little entertained, and mostly musing, like he’s proposing an experiment with an unpredictable outcome. ]
You should try it and see what happens.
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[ Experimentally: ]
Keep talking to me, Bastien.
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I should have you flogged for insubordination. Happy working, until you're dragged away to the whipping-post.
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Ohhh noooo.
[ And in a lower whisper, like it’s innuendo, which it isn’t actually: ]
Have lunch with me later and I’ll talk you senseless.
[ Then he disconnects. ]