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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[hornswoggle]

And the south could be further stirred, John might say, were this a different kind of conversation.

But there are better ways to make mention of such things.

"I've never been so inclined before I arrived there," John says instead, and while it's intended to clarify, it's still a statement that is as much John working through the thing as it is him knowing. "So it's a strange thing, losing something I'd barely acclimated to having."

And it was only partly about Nascere itself, after all. What linked him to that island had been Flint and it had been Madi, and should they choose another island, then—

"Do you have intentions to return to Dragonmount?"

[bouchonne]

"Absolutely," Byerly replies cheerily. "My father's ashes aren't going to piss in themselves, after all."

Which is glib, and obnoxious, and about all that Byerly really wants to say on the subject. There are some with whom By will speak on the topic of the Rutyers and their grotesqueries. An orphan seems like the worst possible audience. At worst, it'd be cruel to the beastie to talk of broken families, for he'd get envious; at best, he'd simply be confused and unable to understand.

"Where were you before Nascere?"

[hornswoggle]

A smile twitches at John's mouth.

No, the Rutyers and Byerly's hatred are beyond him, though interesting to mark. John can understand the hatred in some reasoned, logical sense, but beyond that—

He lets it lie.

"On more ships than I can count, or care to remember. All unremarkable save for the ways in which they were uniquely miserable to serve on."

If Byerly would like those kinds of stories, John had dozens upon dozens to unspool for him. He turns the glass on the table, lifts it to his mouth rather than volunteer anything else.

[bouchonne]

"I've heard stories," By muses in return. He's curious, to be sure, but he's not entirely certain how much truth he'll get out of Silver if he invites him to share tales of shipborne miseries. So that's the question - is this conversation one for idle chatter? The sort of friendly jawing that builds an intimacy between two fellows? Or is this a conversation to pull some truths out of the man, a strategic conversation in which they endeavor to unravel the other? Pity the spy; he's long since lost the ability to really tell the two types of encounters apart.

"We had sailors who'd come into town, a-times. Not too often - it wasn't a major port - but we'd sell them some barrels of water." He gives a little grin. "I nearly joined a crew a few separate times. Did learn the knack of rigging and knots and the like from them. Learned a few other things, too." A lascivious wink. "Helped a deserter, once. Someone who couldn't take the miseries anymore."