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]

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.

[bouchonne]

Hm. I could always order you to keep talking to me.

[cozen]

You think so?

[ Not affronted. A little entertained, and mostly musing, like he’s proposing an experiment with an unpredictable outcome. ]

You should try it and see what happens.

[bouchonne]

Hm-hm.

[ Experimentally: ]

Keep talking to me, Bastien.

[cozen]

[ The very predictable ensuing silence is not quite total. He doesn’t disconnect. But the only sounds are rustling papers, a scratching pen, and a few seconds here and there of Bastien’s usual unfocused, meandering tune-humming. ]

[bouchonne]

[ A pleased cackle. ]

I should have you flogged for insubordination. Happy working, until you're dragged away to the whipping-post.

[cozen]

[ Sing-song: ]

Ohhh noooo.

[ And in a lower whisper, like it’s innuendo, which it isn’t actually: ]

Have lunch with me later and I’ll talk you senseless.

[ Then he disconnects. ]