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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[bouchonne]

The mortal condition, my boy.

[ His tone is breezy. Only the angle of his eyebrow reveals some measure of concern. ]

What is the precise dilemma before you?

[altusimperius]

Commander Flint,

[He hesitates, perhaps afraid he’ll be seen as speaking against a department head in an organization within which he’s already on this ice.
But still— use your words.]

...is angry that... Jone didn’t listen when I told her no. He said this is the last hour he’s wasting on me.

[Far from tattling on a disliked supervisor, Bene looks like he’s one breath from a blind panic.]

Does that mean— I go back down? If he’s dissatisfied, or— or does it mean—

[The metaphysical finger-across-throat gesture hangs in the air, it’s presence known even if he didn’t perform it.]

[bouchonne]

What?

[ By stares a moment, genuinely taken aback - then rolls his eyes grandly. Who knows whether that's a reassuring gesture or a devastating one. ]

Maker preserve me, that rampaging druffalo. [ Then - ] No. Flint's good opinion matters not at all when it comes to you.

[altusimperius]

How certain are you?

[This is not a new concern, only one reupped every time Flint becomes aware of him again, for some reason or another.]

I’m not saying you’re wrong, [and he picks his words carefully, painfully,] but I can’t go back down there. I can’t.

[His eyes are shining and desperate.]

[bouchonne]

[ He sighs, and speaks with rare sincerity. Not that sincerity seems all that nice on Byerly - his voice is clipped and brusque, rather than kindly - but there's no teasing or irony or drollness when he says: ]

There is but one thing that can put you back into a cell: another betrayal. Flint's ill temper matters not one bit. I do not have the patience for squandering resources in the name of pettiness, nor does Yseult, nor Thranduil. And his hatred of Tevinter is not responsible for determining Riftwatch policies.

[ Irritably: ]

I suppose I'm to blame. I asked him to intervene with that brute of a woman.

[altusimperius]

[Brusque though it may be, Bene finds reassurance in it. Finally, he begins to calm down, his heartbeat slowing and some color returning to his face.]

I do everything I can to stay out of his way.

[There’s gratitude in his face, but he’s trying to be circumspect about it, having already brought enough dramatics into the office.]

I don’t mind what Jone is trying to do. I... well, you know. [They've been over it already.] I’ll speak to her again. ...in a bit.

[bouchonne]

[ A dismissive wave. ]

It is our job to keep peace amongst the fractious personalities here. Even if Flint is acting as though you must solve this problem yourself.

[altusimperius]

Thank you. For having my back.

[He sighs out deeply, relieved.]

I suppose I can be useful now.

[A glance to the work on his desk.]

[bouchonne]

[ A cluck of his tongue. ]

Try not to spread that too widely, will you? I do have a reputation to uphold.

[altusimperius]

[Still a bit too shaken to be properly playful, Benedict at least manages a smirk:]

I promise it won't eclipse news of the daily beatings.

[bouchonne]

Perfect. I must appear wicked and heartless, all right? Attribute a few of those beatings to me, if you don't mind.

[altusimperius]

Oh, all of them.

[bouchonne]

Perfect.