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

Comments

[bouchonne]

It's completely a laughing matter. Him, punching!

[ hee hee hee ]

Were you even able to feel it? I've eaten pease porridge with more bite than the boy.

[archademode]

[If he sounds as though he's dying inside right now, trust that he is.]

...it was not a punch.

[bouchonne]

No? A little slap?

[ He mimes a tiny little slap. Then he crooks his hand into claws and makes a kittenish little scratching gesture. ]

[archademode]

[B Y E R L Y.]

When you typically aim to blind someone, think about the movement you would employ.

[bouchonne]

[ He thinks a moment, lips pursed - and then does an experimental thumb jab. Is this right? ]

[archademode]

[Lifting an index finger, Gabranth offers his own adjustment to that guess.

But yes.]

[bouchonne]

Well, that's just rude.

[archademode]

Indeed.

[The other guesses remain no less rude either, but Gabranth won't bother to remind him of that fact.]

The matter is dealt with, however. It need not be brought up again.

[Translation: do not bring this up again.]

[bouchonne]

Shall I punish him?

[archademode]

A Judge Magister settles his own business.

[It would do Benedict no good to be dragged any further through his own misdeeds, as far as Gabranth is concerned.] The matter of his indemnity is seen to. His apologies were sincere.

Had I suspected anything less, I would not be standing here before you now, suing for good faith in his name.

[bouchonne]

[ He spreads his fingers in acknowledgment, but says: ]

The boy is under my command. And to strike a fellow soldier in anger is a serious breach of discipline.

[archademode]

Then consider it a favor done in my name, lenience.

I am the offended party, am I not? My stake in this matter must also hold weight.

[A beat, and then, for the sake of respect:]

Still, if you were to punish Lord Artemaeus, I must ask what you would see fit to enforce.

[bouchonne]

[ An easy shrug. ]

I suppose that depends on how much injury he did you, and how much you'd done beforehand to rouse his temper.

[archademode]

All the more reason to plea grace if so, for I am a man of difficult temperament, and I suffered no injury beyond pride.

[This, perhaps predictably, is said objectively. He's lived too long in his role as Judge, jury, executioner, and so on and so forth to let bias sink its claws into his verdicts unless they relate to his brother which right now they do not, though what chases it is far, far milder in tone:]

As you said, the man is frail in force.

[bouchonne]

I have not found you to be so.

[archademode]

[Well. Aren't you kind, Byerly.]

You are hardly my subordinate.

...or a man so feckless as you once claimed.

[bouchonne]

[ Rude??? ]

I'm utterly feckless.

[ How dare you. Anyway - ]

The most likely punishment, given what you've said, is scrubbing our facilities. [ Bathroom facilities, obviously, given the way he says that word. ] A bit of grime under his nails may make him keep a rather more civilized hand.

[archademode]

Worry not, my opinion of you will reach the ears of no other.

[Aside from Beth, of course, when he'd told her you were a good man as well. Alas.]

Mm. [It isn't likely to breed resentment, a task like that, he supposes. No more than a little sting, easily moved past.] And what of his recompense for the rest of his work? A job well done needs praise as much as a poor hand begs punishment.

[bouchonne]

Why don't you do it?

[archademode]

Me?

[It seems confusion is, in fact, capable of being read even through the guise of an emotionless mask, if only for how Gabranth’s immediate head tilt paints the image of a hound unsettled.]

I hold no sway in this world. What merit does my own approval afford him?

[bouchonne]

Why, I imagine he'd enjoy it. It'd mean something.

[archademode]

...as you will it.

[Which, in Gabranth speak (something someone who knows him well enough might recognize) means 'I don't understand, but not enough to be stubborn about it and argue'. Punctuated, of course, by the formality of a stiff bowing of his head in acquiescence.]

If there is nothing more, then.

[Or would you like to argue about something else, Byerly? This kind of indulgence is a new one for him, after all, and he's not certain how it's meant to go.]

[bouchonne]

Have we come to an agreement, then?

[ By's smile is amused and very difficult to parse. ]

[archademode]

[That smile— compared to the one he's most used to by way of leadership— might as well be a welcome sight in its familiarity. He isn't certain he's gotten the bargain he'd sought out (in fact, considering Gabranth's less-than-meager skills concerning positive reinforcement, there's no doubt he has not) but it sits close enough within the scope that he's willing to accept it by way of one last, single nod.]

As much as two such as us might hope for.

[bouchonne]

[ With a laugh - ]

What, that sounds pessimistic. Do you think we'll be at odds?