inbox.

[heirring]

[action + written + crystal]

Comments

[heirring]

[Wysteria's scoffing answer has considerable force behind it. Clearly, she's still rustled—as if that's a shock.]

Well, at least someone is aware of it.

[bouchonne]

Many someones. And I, the least worthy and most witless among them. Don't be discouraged.

[ Truthfully: He finds Wysteria's research objectively alarming and thinks that Abby is right to be dismayed by it. But he does like Wysteria so much, and wants to offer some comfort. ]

[heirring]

I am not discouraged. Miss Anderson and La Rue and whoever else may think I'm dreadful all they like. Both of them would be dead if not for my and Viktor being here. And the Provost and Doctor Strange, and the rest obviously.

[And so would Byerly, but that's not the point.]

[bouchonne]

And myself, as well.

[ Like he's going to let that slip. ]

[heirring]

You're welcome.

The cakes were very nice.

[bouchonne]

Yes? Adequate recompense?

[heirring]

It was fine.

[bouchonne]

Do you want another cake?

[heirring]

No, I don't want another cake. I don't want anything. That wasn't the point.

[bouchonne]

No? A cake for a life-debt doesn't seem like a fair trade?

[heirring]

I don't need another cake. I didn't want the first cake. I don't care about a fair trade. I don't want anything.

[said the world's most ambitious little princess.]

[bouchonne]

Now, now, let's not go too far, madame. Those who want nothing endure no suffering. And you suffer quite a lot, I think.

[heirring]

[There's something in that which makes her bristle. If asked, she wouldn't be able to put her finger on it. But— it's there. A little prickle of annoyance or doubt or the suspicion that she is being somehow patronized. Rather than speak directly to it, however, she veers in the direction of:]

Is there something you need, Mister Rutyer?

[bouchonne]

Nothing for myself, no.

[ He sounds blithe as ever. If he regrets offending her - and there's no question he offended her - it's certainly not audible in his voice. ]

I just wanted to remind you you are admired.

[heirring]

Well. [Well!] Yes, well, that's very thoughtful of you. Perhaps you may remind the rest of the company of this fact at your next convenience.

[bouchonne]

Do you want me to? I will.

[heirring]

[A short breath implies an impulsive reply that she has set her teeth around rather than actually speak aloud. Then, after a beat—some of the spit and vinegar having been drained from the thing, leaving its gloomier dregs behind:]

No, it wouldn't do any good.

[bouchonne]

No, probably not. [ Said utterly without gloom. ] But it could be fun to tell the - please forgive my indelicate language - the assholes to go screw themselves.

[heirring]

Well, I can hardly stop you from seeking out whatever form of entertainment pleases you best.

[Technically speaking.]