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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[archademode]

[There's a noise that catches in the back of his throat there, just barely audible. Something perhaps to do with the burns he'd left Jone with upon their first meeting— kindled temper being what it is.

He dislikes the memory of it, and discards it the moment it arises.]

There is a difference. You seek trouble as a bird to its prey, though your heart is a far softer thing than your talons.

[bouchonne]

[ A laugh of surprise. ]

Maker, you don't mince words, do you?

[ Then a shake of his head. ]

Make no mistake, Judge Magister, my heart is a withered and deadened little thing. But a fellow can be hard-hearted and still have a sense of duty. Sharp talons, but jesses and a hood; that's all. I'm flattered by your generous assessment, though.

[ A small shrug. Then: ]

But don't dismiss the importance of diplomatic training, good fellow. Wordplay and swordplay must both be learned.

[archademode]

[He would defy that assessment by way of Benedict’s care— but instead opts to let it lie. No man wishes to be pulled from his own perceptions.]

For Lord Artemaeus, yes.

[For himself? No.

Request debates all you like, Byerly, he’s just going to keep smashing that Jeopardy buzzer and listing the first things that come to mind.]

Now, if you will excuse me, I fear I have little time left to spare. My own work in the name of Commander Flint is far from complete.

[It sucks also, but he’s keeping that part to himself thank you very much.]

[bouchonne]

As you will. I wouldn't want you to cross that fearsome fellow.

[archademode]

Much too late for that, I’m afraid.

[They are, and perhaps ever will be, entirely at odds. Still, rank is rank: Gabranth won’t willingly defy it for the sake of dislike alone, and he suspects— or at the very least hopes— such holds true in reverse.

Good work tends to ignore the weaknesses of disagreement.]

[bouchonne]

[ Drama?? Drama???????? ]

You'll have to tell me about it sometime.

[archademode]

[Drama.]

A gift then, for our next meeting.

[That’s a joke, Byerly. This man does not Talk Shit about those above his rank....but he might at the very least be persuaded to express dislike in regards to his given tasks, so. Small favors.]

I bid the both of you a good day.

[Both, he says, because Whiskey remains present and utterly valid as such, offering a bow that might well be aimed at the two of them, though— as always— it’s difficult to tell with all that armor blocking out line of sight. And then, as surely as his arrival, he's gone.]