inbox.

[heirring]

[action + written + crystal]

Comments

[heirring]

[That-- draws her audibly short, some protest getting no further than the first syllable. Ah.]

I see. [Consider her knuckles rapped. After a long beat, she says,] Then yes. I suppose you as some self serious version of yourself would be amusing.

[bouchonne]

Consider it done. [ Hm. ] If you wish to escape early, I could have you 'thrown in the dungeons for disobedience.'

[heirring]

[How accommodating...]

Shall I, er, make some scene to cue it perhaps?

[bouchonne]

Yes, that'd be useful. I wouldn't want to banish you if you're still having a good time.

[heirring]

Do you have any suggestions? For what might best catch your attention.

[bouchonne]

Hmm. I think the best thing for it would be kissing this chevalier upon the lips.

[heirring]

[Here, a sharp burst of startled and very true laughter.]

Come now, Mr. Rutyer. Be reasonable.

[bouchonne]

Was that unreasonable?

[heirring]

[She laughs again, imagining poor Ellis' miserable face.]

Utterly. For a dozen reasons.

[bouchonne]

Tell me three of them.

[heirring]

[It is a testament to the absurdity of the thing that she does:]

First, as it is far too public and the chevalier would turn to ash. And we are good and true friends. And I refuse to kiss anyone with so much beard.

To say nothing of my reputation, fool or no.

[bouchonne]

As Fool, you could order him to shave.

[heirring]

He has already agreed to be somewhat mortified. I couldn't inflict further cruelty on the gentleman.

No Mr. Rutyer, I'm afraid it will have to be something else.

[bouchonne]

Yes, I suppose he might start seeking assignment in the Deep Roads. Very well. Perhaps you could start singing a bawdy song?

[heirring]

Even worse. I cannot sing for anything.

Could I not simply threaten to show my entire leg? Or to conscript everyone and force them into a play war?

[bouchonne]

Ooh! Yes, that latter one is perfect!

[heirring]

Done. But if the party seems amenable to the idea, you must pretend not to notice until the first clash of armies occurs on the dance floor.

[bouchonne]

We'll need a code-word for when it's played out to your liking. Perhaps - bellow, Orlesians, to me, and I'll know to stop it then.

[heirring]

Then it's settled. And in the interim, I will attempt to create a few charming messes for you to complicate with your own rules and so on and so forth.

[A very pause - so brief it is hardly there - is followed by an abrupt heel turn.]

Answer me in honesty, Mr. Rutyer. After the party, should I find this election offensive?

[bouchonne]

In honesty?

[ A moment of thought as he tries to put himself in her odd little shoes. Then he decides - ]

No.

[heirring]

No. [Brisk agreement, wholly satisfied by his answer.] I thought so as well.

[bouchonne]

Oh? What is the basis of your belief?

[heirring]

As for the vote, the rules of the evening insist that the ruler have some sway over it and no one would give that sort of thing to anyone they truly disliked or thought a true bore. And your testimony must be reliable on account of how you insist so often on being disagreeable.

[bouchonne]

Hm. An interesting interpretation.

[heirring]

Oh don't say it that way. We will only end up arguing.