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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[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.

pencils essential missing "not" into last tag

[cozen]

Merci, chéri.

The second is that you come stay with me the night before. Then during the wedding, if there are times when you feel like you have to choose, you choose her, and you don't worry about me or look apologetic or anything like that, because you will have taken very good care of me the night before and I will still be up in the clouds about it.

Or the night before the night before. Or whatever night works for your schedule. I can keep floating at least three days.

I knew what you meant

[bouchonne]

[ He takes a deep breath - and then, well. No. He's not going to be able to will them into a perfect balance. All he can do is listen to them, and try to give them what they need from him. ]

I'll screw you so tenderly.

good x_x

[cozen]

[ Between relief at not having to have the discussion that breath seemed to portend and tickled surprise at what Byerly says instead, Bastien winds up laughing—like a schoolboy, even, despite having never been one. ]

I love you, [ is half-laughter and said offhand, like a thank you. ] And those are the only conditions. We have a deal.

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. Flutters. ]

I love you.

[ Earnestly said. Not remotely offhand. But then, lightly: ]

We should spit into our palms and shake on it.

[cozen]

On our love?

[ Obviously not. He’s teasing—and a little muffled, because he’s grinning pleased into his fist. ]

Be careful. Where I grew up that was a wedding.

[bouchonne]

Maybe we should ruin this upcoming ceremony that way.

[ He grins in return. ]

Shove Wysteria and her beau out of the way. Declare, this wedding is ours! And then just aggressively spit.

[cozen]

[ Bastien snickers at length before cutting himself off. ]

No, [ he isn’t ruining anything, he isn’t making even clearly outrageous and impossible-for-several-reasons marriage jokes in front of Alexandrie unless she’s included, and most importantly, ] Madame de Cedoux will be there. She can never know that we spit. She can’t know we have saliva at all.

[bouchonne]

[ By laughs, doubly grateful for the hilarious joke and the graceful pivot away from that rather dangerous topic. ]

Oh, come now, she's so little. What's she going to do, fight us? We could take her.

[cozen]

[ With more urgency: ] She can’t know that we fight!

It would be like being naked in front of a Chantry Mother.

[bouchonne]

You say that like you've never been naked in front of a Chantry Mother.

[cozen]

Because I haven’t. Have you?

[bouchonne]

Yes.

[cozen]

When? When you were a little Chantry-school rascal?

[bouchonne]

That's right.

[ Delighted by the retelling: ]

In the middle of class. She took in a breath to begin reciting the Chant, and then there was Little Lord Byerly, tearing through the room and out the window in his altogether.

[cozen]

[ Laughter. ]

That is fantastic. What, were you—dared? overcome with a sudden need to be very free?

[bouchonne]

Dared, of course.

[ A laugh - ]

I didn't even get anything for it. Just pride.

[cozen]

And trouble, I assume.

[bouchonne]

A switch to the buttocks. Yes. Worth it, though.

[cozen]

[ Bastien's sensibilities are not modern enough (and his own behind not unswatted enough) for him to think that's awful. He laughs again.

And then—with no prompting or prodding or particular purpose, a rare thing becoming less rare—he volunteers: ]

I would never have done anything like that. Not around a Mother. The Chantry had breakfast. Sometimes work. So I was a sweet, perfect little suck-up.

Young Byerly might have hated me. [ And more to himself, ] Young Byerly in the Bannorn. Little Byerly in the—it is fun to say. Bannorn. Byerly in the Bannorn. Maybe I will write that song.

[bouchonne]

The dullest ballad imaginable.

[ He laughs, then says - ]

And young Byerly wouldn't have hated young Bastien. He would have adored him. A perfect little target for temptation and corruption? Oh, yes.

[cozen]

He could have tried.

[ As if Bastien had been an incorruptible child. Obviously he wasn't. There's a short trail of bodies to prove it.

But for the joke. ]

Alright, Monsieur le Corrupteur. I am sure you have nothing to do but put your feet up and flirt— [ also extremely and obviously untrue ] —but I have work to do.