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]

I could get you a lute.

[cozen]

Monsieur la Poche Généreuse.

I already have one, actually.

But you are still better for it and you should still be the one to go.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ A beat, and then he confesses: ]

I suppose that - Well. Usually, when I am uncomfortable, or aggrieved in some way, I simply endeavor to ruin the thing that aggrieves me.

[ But he doesn't exactly have license to ruin this. ]

[cozen]

You wouldn’t, you, [ Bastien begins, before actually giving a deep and genuine damn about Byerly, unlike many other targets of his little persuasion campaigns, catches up to him.

He stops. The rest of the planned sentence comes out a nose-sigh. ]

I don’t want to push you into it if you will be miserable the whole time.

[bouchonne]

[ By can hear that sigh, and shakes his head. ]

I need a push every now and again, Bastien. I'm grateful for it.

[ But. ]

I suppose I simply don't know whether or not Miss Poppell intends to be...intolerable.

[cozen]

[ He starts tentative, but slowly warming up to being a little pushy again: ]

It's her wedding. I would hope she would be too busy to needle you.

[bouchonne]

What, haven't you ever been to a wedding with an Ogre Bride?

[ Asked with genuine amusement. Surely they've all been there. ]

[cozen]

Of course. But she has announced hardly a week in advance, and she is planning for a lively party but has outsourced it to a Warden [ not known for their liveliness, even if this one seems very pleasant ] and she said they were like chaff in the wind with no plans for the music before I asked about them. I will not be shocked if a seamstress joins her at the altar to finish sewing her into her dress while they do the vows.

[bouchonne]

[ Hm. ]

I suppose you're not wrong about that.

[cozen]

—and this could all be leading to some surprise. Jilting. Drama. Or the usual attempted murder or kidnapping. Wouldn’t you hate to miss that?

[bouchonne]

Maker, yes. You know I love drama.

[cozen]

Then you will do it?

[bouchonne]

[ A beat, then: ]

Screw it. Yes. And if it displeases Miss Poppell, maybe it'll teach her a lesson about actually giving voice to her wants, instead of silently resenting people when they don't magically divine them from her mind.

[cozen]

That's the spirit.

[ Kinda? ]

[bouchonne]

We're going to sing many songs about cuckoldry, though. Just so you know.

[cozen]

[ Laughing: ]

No more than three.

[ And still sort of laughing: ]

I am not sure I am going, but if I hear you did a dozen... I'll find a punishment that you don't think is sexy. Somehow.

[bouchonne]

[ Hold on. ]

What do you mean, you're not sure?

[cozen]

Oh, you know.

[ Having someone he tries not to lie to is terrible. His pause is for struggling not to change his mind about that stupid secret rule. ]

If it were a meeting or a mission, that would be one thing, but it's a wedding! It's drinking and dancing, and it is very hard to play with you without flirting with you. [ His dramatically overwhelmed clenched fist is invisible, but his voice matches it. ] That voice, those hands.

—and it's camping. Which probably means sleeping. Deciding where to sleep. I don't want to make things hard for Alexandrie. [ Cheerfully, ] Or for myself.

Don't you dare say that you will not go now.

[bouchonne]

Bastien -

[ He's both frustrated - at Bastien, at himself, at this damned situation - and also touched, and fluttery over that praise for his hands. ]

I'm not going without you.

[cozen]

[ Bastien wasn’t fishing for that, and he wouldn’t have thought he wanted to hear it. What he wants is for Byerly to spend time more than a couple miles away from his office for something entirely unrelated to his work, losing himself the way he does sometimes with music, and being there for a young woman who he certainly cares about more than Bastien does, even if he likes her less.

But still. It’s unexpectedly nice to hear. Enough so that it takes Bastien a second to muster up further resistance. ]

What if I spend the whole time writing you a song so full of longing adoration it’s as if you have been away for a year?

[bouchonne]

Ha. Tempting.

[ But. ]

But I want you there. To give me courage. And to remind me not to be a shitass.

[cozen]

[ This time the silence is several seconds. ]

Now, that isn’t fair. I had to try fifteen different points to convince you— [ hyperbole ] —and you managed in two.

[ He doesn’t sound bothered, though. He’s aware he’s a sucker. ]

But I have conditions.

[bouchonne]

Name them.

[ He relaxes, relieved. The conditions - Well, they'll be reasonable. It's Bastien. ]

[cozen]

The first is that if Monsieur de Foncé seems to think the cuckolding songs are funny, we have to stop. I like him.

[bouchonne]

[ A disappointed cluck of his tongue. But: ]

As you wish.