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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some days before departure for Dragonfite

[altusimperius]

[Benedict returns from lunch in an irritable fluster, flopping down into his desk chair and pushing his hair back out of his face, as he often does when he's anxious.]

I'm going to have to take some time out, [he grumbles across the room,] for a mission.

[He wasn't this put out about it at first, but running into Edgard put everything into dismal perspective.]

[bouchonne]

[ This doesn't seem all that remarkable. Missions happen. Especially for someone with rift shards. ]

I'll have to make my own coffee? Ugh. I'll feel like a proper plebe.

[altusimperius]

I'm sure you'll manage.

[Spoken with a bit of humor, though, being the prideful fellow he is, Benedict has begun to enjoy making coffee and considers it one of his strengths.]

...we're going to fight a dragon.

[bouchonne]

[ uhhhh ]

Metaphorically?

[altusimperius]

[Bene shakes his head with a wince.]

...well, I mean, Jone says I can just watch. But Gabranth wants me to participate.

Have you met Gabranth? Hard to miss him, he always has his plate on.

[bouchonne]

Mm. I sent him on a mission to pick flowers.

[altusimperius]

[Snicker,]

I bet he loved that.

[bouchonne]

Everyone loves flowers.

He's a very earnest fellow. Seems rather decent.

[altusimperius]

I think so.

[Bene pauses, twiddling his quill around in his fingers.]

He almost killed me. I thought he was a Templar. [It was a little more complicated than that, but,]

then when I told him my mother's a Magister, his whole demeanor changed. I think he thinks I'm important. And that he should protect me.

[Wince.]

Not that I mind, but.

[bouchonne]

[ A laugh. ]

Oh, Maker. A magister is something very different to him. Have you explained what it is here? To us?

[altusimperius]

Sort of.

[He knits his brow in a look of mild concern.]

It's a little tricky getting through his, ah... preconceived notions. [Which is to say, he is very large and stolid and has Thoughts about Things, and Benedict isn't about to tell someone why they should kick his ass.]

[bouchonne]

The longer you wait, the worse it will be.

[ Hm. ]

Well, maybe. Maybe he'll never figure it out. He doesn't seem like - hm - like the brightest fellow.

[altusimperius]

I did tell him we're estranged.

It's hard to know what he's thinking. I don't think he's stupid, just...

...different?

[bouchonne]

Oh, come on, I count on you for one thing. Cattiness.

[altusimperius]

[Benedict laughs, a genuine sound with an accompanying smile.]

Right, I know, but--

look, I think I'm done biting the hand that feeds me.

[bouchonne]

Hmm.

[ A skeptical look. ]

[altusimperius]

I can try, can't I?

[He arches his eyebrows.]

I'll still gossip about you, of course.

[bouchonne]

I'd be furious if you didn't. Make it mean.

[altusimperius]

A layabout and a scoundrel.

[He mimes writing.]

Abuses me daily. Derives enjoyment from it. Terrible taste in hats.

[bouchonne]

No one will believe that last one.

[altusimperius]

I believe it.

[bouchonne]

Still, even if you believe something, you must take care not to spread rumors that won't be believed by others. Even gossip-mongers can lose credibility.

[altusimperius]

...fine.

[This feels like a life lesson disguised as a joke, and he makes a mental note accordingly.]

Terrible taste in company.

[bouchonne]

Case in point.

[ A nod to Benedict. ]

[altusimperius]

Case in point.