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

Comments

[cozen]

Ongoing.

[ Not a mission. A permanent switch.

Maybe. ]

We are the only trained spies in Riftwatch anymore. Her and you and me. And we're old, [ kinda, ] and I'm not as good as I used to be, [ Byerly might be better though, ] and more than anything I want to see the end of this with you. But we should at least talk about it, right?

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly turns to look at Bastien fully. ]

Hold on. Is she asking for my help as well?

[cozen]

Not specifically.

[ A touch of ruefulness. Byerly isn't Yseult's favorite person in Riftwatch; Bastien's not going to pretend otherwise. Maybe it's a relationship that would be improved somewhat by her being the boss—or maybe that would in fact be much worse. ]

She didn't outright ask for mine, either. She was talking about the difficulty of it all, and I said I'd promised you I would stay out of the dark alleys, and she said she said Darras would prefer for her to quit, too.

It's a fair point.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ His mouth settles into a frown. ]

I might be more amenable to it if she did ask you.

[cozen]

[ Bastien nods and dumps his collection of chopped potatoes into Byerly's pot. ]

You think I should make her beg?

[ Dryly, scientifically, as if he'd actually consider it. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly starts to feel frustration gripping at him. He forces himself to pick up a clove of garlic and place it atop Bastien's head. There. He cannot be angry if he is placing garlic on Bastien's head.

Oddly, it sort of works; his own reply is more dry than irritable. ]

I'd like her to acknowledge that you're under no obligation to offer anything to anyone.

[cozen]

[ Bastien's eyes go as far up as they can, a doomed attempt to look at the top of his own head. ]

It wasn't like that.

[ But he's more touched than defensive. What a thing, to have someone watching his back so fervently. He holds the knife away from both of them, lifts up onto the balls of his feet, and pulls By's head over to kiss him on the cheek. Despite the head tilting that requires, his hair is coarse and fluffy enough that the garlic stays put. ]

I did more to bring it up than she did. She won't force it. And neither will I. I only want to talk about it.

[bouchonne]

Hmmm.

[ A bit of a grumble. ]

I think you should put conditions on it.

[cozen]

[ Bastien removes the garlic from his head, finally, and sets about trying to crack and peel it. It's a little clumsy. It would be a lot clumsy if he weren't generally nimble-fingered; he's never done much cooking. Byerly would have had to have shown him how. ]

What kind?

[bouchonne]

That you must be recognized and congratulated on your hard work once every other week.

[ Byerly suppresses the urge to Help, and instead allows Bastien to peel that garlic. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs. ]

A very hard bargain.

[ He backs up from the table so he can bend down, hinged low enough to be at eye level with the garlic and study it while he picks at the peel on an individual clove.

He can't rely anymore on By's position to keep him relatively safe, tied to a desk in a fortified office. He can't rely on the need for secrecy either. Byerly wouldn't have to announce his allegiances and history if he changed divisions. He could simply be applying his assortment of skills in a novel way, for the first time ever, don't worry about it. And if he does this he won't be able to rely on bargaining—on I'll stay inside if you stay inside.

He can only hope it's what Byerly would like anyway, and choose not to draw any more attention to the option than he already has. ]

Could I allow her thanks to be silent? Putting a pastry on my desk or something instead of having to say it to my face?

[bouchonne]

Absolutely not.

[ Byerly lifts his eyebrows at Bastien. He knows his beloved well enough to know that the occasional silent pastry will become comfortable. And then once it's comfortable and forgotten, then Bastien himself will forget that he is appreciated. He'll start to feel invisible. Maybe he'll make himself invisible, consciously or unconsciously. It's not mistrust of Yseult that's making Byerly insist upon this; it's mistrust of Bastien, and Bastien's self-image. ]

It must be aloud, and she must look you in the eye.

[cozen]

[ Another laugh. ]

I love you,

[ as he hands over a fully undressed clove of garlic. Just one. But the second will be speedier. ]

I think she would... [ Refuse to, maybe. Resent it, possibly. Find it ridiculous, certainly—and knowing she did would make him wither up into a husk by the third time she looked him in the eye to fulfill the obligation. ] No one thanks her. You know? And she would not expect them to. [ Still bent over the counter, he sways his legs to slowly knock By with his hip. ] La bonne chose.

[bouchonne]

[ A half-annoyed grunt. Byerly waves the knife he's using to slice that naked clove for emphasis as he says - ]

Maybe la bonne chose. She might still be secretly Ben-Hassrath.

[cozen]

[ With a smile shifting into villainous smirk— ]

So might I.

[ Also with an utter lack of concern for the knife being waved around. ]

[bouchonne]

Ha, ha. Come on, now; I know the bastards you've worked for. She still won't say.

[cozen]

She doesn't want to get you into bed with her.

[bouchonne]

Oh, is that how we do it now? We blow our cover for lust? Am I just another honeypot to you?

[cozen]

You are not just another anything to me, monsier la joie de mon coeur.

[ Endearment aside, his tone isn't simpering. More bickering. Are they arguing? He's determined to be fine and normal about it, if they are. Which means no tripping over himself to make Byerly smile. ]

Has she ever done anything to make you suspect her, aside from not telling you what you want to know?

[bouchonne]

Being a spy?

[ Perhaps there's a little too much emphasis in the way he chops that carrot. But he's cool. He's being cool. ]

We are, by and large, wicked people, my darling.

[cozen]

You are so Fereldan.

[ That’s not a counterargument. Only a fondly exasperated observation.

Bastien slides the remainder of the naked garlic over to Byerly and takes up the onion. ]

And you are not wicked, and she is more like you than she is like me. She has a soldier’s heart. The lies are only a sword.

[bouchonne]

How do you know?

[cozen]

[ He sighs. ]

Because of how we met. Because she has been consistent ever since. She has been here longer than I have, with no sign of betrayal or agenda aside from winning the war. And because of Darras—because of the way she looked when she lost him. Because when we all dreamed together, she dreamed of a world where she was still fighting—with you, with you and your handsome depression beard—and the little flicker of hope that dream gave her was her husband and a baby there with her the swamp.

[ By the end of this he is crying. But it's only because he's literally cutting an onion. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Ugh. Fine. And irritating that the sight of Bastien onion-crying tugs at his heartstrings. ]

I'm just saying. It's truly the move of an asshole not to tell us what her hidden agenda is. We're polite enough to name ours.

[cozen]

[ Bastien looks up at him with BIG WET EYES. ]

I don't think she has one.

[ He wipes his face with his shoulder. ]

Her needing help came up at all because she asked if I missed having a handler. She said she misses it. She doesn't have one anymore. No one is telling her what to do.