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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flutters in

[altusimperius]

[It is a day like any other. Benedict got here a little earlier than Byerly to make his coffee, which he's wielding upon entry, his mind clearly elsewhere as he sets it down with a little smile of acknowledgment and turns to go back to his desk.]

[bouchonne]

You're going to be punished.

[ Byerly's voice is mild as anything. He picks up the coffee and sips it. ]

Mm, good cup today.

[altusimperius]

[Well that’s a fine good morning for you. Benedict stops dead halfway to his desk, swiveling on his heel to fix Byerly with a look as startled as it is mortified.]

...what?

[He wracks his brain for reasons, and one arrives sooner than he thought— shit. The fake appointment.]

I’m sorry, [he says quickly.]

[bouchonne]

[ A lift of his eyebrow. ]

Why are you apologizing to me?

[altusimperius]

[Wait. Why wouldn't he?
Is this a game, Maker's breath, he's gotten so good at knowing when things are games, but this has him completely at a loss.]

I'm...

[He winces, his eyebrows quirking as if in pain. Maybe it's not about the appointment, shit.]

...who else... would I apologize to?

[bouchonne]

[ Honestly. ]

The fellow you tried to blind?

[ He gives a gesture evocative of poking someone hard in the eye. ]

[altusimperius]

[He was framed, this is all a misunderstanding, he-- wait. Oh.

Bene is visibly taken aback.]

...I did.

[With a deep exhale, he backs up to sit against the edge of his desk, his hands curled over its edges to prop him up, a hangdog look overtaking any fearfulness. When he speaks again, it's with guilty resignation.]

I'm a little surprised he came to you about it.

[bouchonne]

[ With a hint of acid creeping into his pleasant tones: ]

I'm utterly shocked that you didn't.

[altusimperius]

[Ouch.

Benedict is silent a moment, fully caught in it.]

I suppose I thought we'd. Sorted it. He and I.

[His speech is halting and sheepish.]

[bouchonne]

And you thought that because it happened between the two of you, it was irrelevant to me?

[altusimperius]

[Benedict nods miserably.]

[bouchonne]

You're aware what your relationship is to me, are you not?

[altusimperius]

[Quietly,] I’m aware.

[If ever it were possible to just disintegrate, now would be the time.

At least he likes the coffee.]

[bouchonne]

And you're aware that actions you take that break discipline will reflect on me.

[altusimperius]

[Wretchedly,]

Yes.

[bouchonne]

So is something like that relevant to me or not?

[altusimperius]

Yes, it’s relevant.

[That same terrible tightness has returned to his guts, reminiscent of when he faced the anger of Gabranth himself.
His groveling is, at least, sincere: there’s an element of knowing he’s got to endure it and come out the other side, rather than wriggle out now and have to pay the piper later.]

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly, though, responds to that snappishly: ]

Maker, stop looking at me like I'm some grand bully persecuting you.

[altusimperius]

[Wearing his thoughts on his face has never worked out in Benedict’s favor, but he tries to school his expression into something more stoic.

Now doesn’t seem like the time to get smart.]

I’m agreeing with you, [he says faintly.]

[bouchonne]

And looking like you're about to turn into a puddle.

[altusimperius]

[He purses his lips, hating how visible his discomfort is.]

...how should I look.

[It's almost an earnest question.]

[bouchonne]

[ He lets out a hard breath, then shakes his head. ]

You're cleaning out the privies.

[altusimperius]

[That was a bit of a jump--]

What?

[bouchonne]

You could have blinded the fellow. You're cleaning out the privies. That's your punishment.

[altusimperius]

Oh.

[He can't stop himself from sneering at the thought, but it is what it is.]

...fine.