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

crystal. & haha first.

[cozen]

[ Now it’s been a few weeks since late Kingsway. Two is a few. ]

Can I have one of your evenings this week, By?

[ He sounds casual, cheerful, half-distracted by some piece of work or another. The only sign that this isn't only about needing a partner for a card game or a wine gossip session is that he's asking in advance, instead of right now, are you free, great because— ]

I’ll take good care of it.

an inbox cortez

[bouchonne]

You'll feed it? And water it? Clean up after it?

[ It is just a little unexpected, and thrilling, and anxiety-inducing, this change from the usual way of doing things. He does wonder what it means. A grand night on the town? Or a letdown, gently shared? ]

slightly less evil hopefully

[cozen]

Scratch behind its ears. [ Or, more Orlesian-about-dogs-ly, ] Put it in tiny clothes that match mine. Carry it around under my arm and let it nip at anyone who comes too close.

[bouchonne]

I may need to trust you with five of my minutes first. If you can keep those minutes going, we can talk about a whole evening.

[cozen]

Ten.

[bouchonne]

I won't say no. How do you propose to care for these little minutes?

[cozen]

A proposal for a demonstration! You are a demanding man, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur. I think your office is going to your head.

[bouchonne]

Am I not worth it?

[cozen]

Mm. You are.

[ There’s some weight to that. But then there’s some shifting. He’s leaning back. Putting his feet up on his stupid unwanted desk. No longer multitasking. ]

All right. A proposal. The details would depend, I think. If you wanted to go out or stay in. What day of the week I could have. The weather.

But no matter what, the first ten minutes would probably be a conversation. Do you want me to start with that, or skip it?

[ A tease? Yes. Stalling? Also yes. ]

[bouchonne]

Hmm.

[ His voice is playful. ]

I like a conversation. Would you sample it? Give me a taste of the wine before I buy the bottle.

[cozen]

[ He laughs. ]

It would start with the basics, of course. Hello, Byerly, how are you, how has your day been. Anything interesting so far. And if we wandered from there into several minutes of gossip and jokes, it would be your fault. I am helpless and blameless.

[bouchonne]

Don't forget casual innuendo.

[cozen]

Oh, of course. We would have to set aside at least two minutes for innuendo alone. But eventually there would be a lull, and I would say...

[ Tempting. He’s right on the verge. It would be less cowardly than writing Vincent that letter, at least, to do it this way, and still spare him watching Byerly’s face or having his own watched back.

But Byerly was brave when he asked—sober and freshly shaven and earnest. So Bastien can be brave when he answers. ]

Can I come see you? Now, I mean. Are you in your office?

[bouchonne]

Sure.

[ His voice is warm. Friendly. There's a little laugh in it. But there's something about that question that is...It twists in him. He is filled with dread. ]

Arse in my chair, as ever. I'm going to get fat like this.

[cozen]

Eh, you could use a little more padding anyway. I worry about you in the winter.

[ The creak of a chain being vacated, the thunk of a drawer and jangle of keys. ]

Or if you are ever too sick to eat. You might vanish completely. One day here, the next day a pile of long thin bones.

[bouchonne]

You think so? I think I'm getting soft around the middle.

[cozen]

I think, [ with the gravity of proclamation, ] if you are going soft anywhere, it will be very handsome and charming on you. But if you would prefer not to, you are welcome to wake up earlier and come running with me. That is something I do now. It’s terrible. I have to eat a whole baguette and butter afterwards, to recover.

[ The only good thing about the stupid desk and stupid office is that they’re located only one floor beneath the Division Heads’ offices. One flight of stairs. ]

[bouchonne]

Come running? [ Actually rather genuinely baffled: ] What are you running from?

[cozen]

My age. I used to be fast, you know.

[ That might be overstating things. But he used to be less slow.

And he’s here now, shouldering through Byerly’s door, but he keeps talking into the crystal for the moment. ]

Remember that night the city guard saw us climbing out of Lord Cormier‘s window?

[bouchonne]

[ It's silly and adorable. So Byerly responds in kind, speaking to the crystal. ]

I remember when the city guard saw me climbing out of Lord Cormier's window, after you had slipped very gracefully out of it.

[cozen]

[ What more can a man ask for, than to be played along with? He grins while he leans back against the door to close it. ]

I might have been graceful, but I was also jingling.

[ Bastien keeps talking into the crystal while he crosses the floor, and while he pauses midway to say hello to the dog and ask how her day has been, and then sits on the edge of Byerly’s desk. On his side of it, beside his chair.

He’s going to feel very stupid, after all this flirting, if Byerly’s changed his mind. ]

That was a good night, since we didn’t die.

—all right. Where was I.

[bouchonne]

[ The dog has had a very good day, judging by how she leans her head into Bastien's hand and sighs blissfully and thumps her tail against the ground. Bastien is not a very reliable source of treats, but Whiskey loves him immensely in spite of it. Some memory of who delivered her here, perhaps. ]

Innuendo.

[ By takes the crystal and idly holds it up to his ear, as though proposing a new piece of jewelry. ]

[cozen]

[ Very fetching, says Bastien’s ooh face, but his mouth says, ]

Right, right.

[ Since By’s crystal is near his ear, Bastien can whisper very quietly—nearly inaudible—into his crystal-cupping hand, and still hope to be heard: ]

Would you like to me to butter your baguette, monsieur?

[bouchonne]

[ Which makes Byerly laugh. It's the monsieur that does it, so polite and deferential, like a waiter in a restaurant genuinely offering baguette-buttering services. And the silliness of it emanating breathily up from the crystal.

By whispers back (though loudly enough to be heard even without the crystal): ]

That depends on how slowly you'll do it.

[cozen]

[ Bastien’s answering laugh is not breathy, but he tries to return to a whisper afterwards, and nearly succeeds. ]

We offer both quick, efficient spreads and slow slathers. For a fee you can have the butter brought out in the— [ this is where the whispering fails outright, because he’s about to laugh again ] —shape of your choice—

[ He drops the crystal. ]

I have a speech, you know.