inbox.

[heirring]

[action + written + crystal]

Comments

[bouchonne]

You do not wish to hear it because you think you would despise it, no? Therefore, despicable.

[heirring]

It is a question of intent, Mr. Rutyer.

[bouchonne]

I don't understand. So it wouldn't be a despicable idea, but my intent would make it despicable.

[heirring]

Oh honestly. [Said in tones of UGH.] I will tell it to you plain then, though you will insist on disagreement.

It is the reverse. The things which come out of your mouth are, at best, the very height of poor taste. But it seems to me you do so compulsively. You simply cannot help yourself. And so while I find it an unpleasant habit, you are more or less harmless and at worst rather less delightful than you imagine.

[bouchonne]

That was not remotely plainly said. If anything, it was just more confusing.

[heirring]

Well I can think of no better way to say it, so you will simply have to puzzle through it. Now, if there are no further decrees which you wish to implement—

[bouchonne]

Ah, cleverness is wasted on the incurious. Dreadful thing, to have an inert mind.

No. No other decrees.

[heirring]

[Somewhere, Wysteria Poppell is turning very red in the face. With the monumental restraint of refusing to implode—]

I'll be along then. And look forward to the evening.