"Strange is going to start avoiding me if I have a new project for him every time we see each other. But point taken."
(He probably wouldn't. Strange gives Cosima the impression of a man who'd rather have as many tasks as possible.)
"I'll talk to Viktor, though, thanks for the suggestion. And." She exhales. "Thanks. This was a lot of work, and whatever it translates to in policy, or doesn't, it's useful for all of us to know." 'Us,' in this case, rifters especially, though she supposes the rest of Riftwatch is better off for the information as well.
Wysteria sits a little straighter. The little white dog at her side slips a little deeper into the space between her side and the chair, his button eyes squinting at the inconvenience of it all.
"Oh," his mistress says. "Yes, of course. You're most welcome. Would that we'd have managed to have the study done sooner."
"We've all got a lot on our plates," is frank but pleasant enough. "But I think ... you know, no one outside here is doing studies on rifters, really, so I think it makes sense to keep it in mind when we're considering our focus."
(Well, the Venatori might be involuntarily experimenting on rifters when they get a chance, but that certainly doesn't count for these purposes.)
"Keep me posted, if you end up having follow-up ideas, and I'll reach out if I end up with more questions. But I appreciate your time."
This sounds like a dismissal, and so Wysteria gathers the little dog out from the space he's squelched into. With a squirm, the animal first clambers into her lap and then launches off of it. Wysteria follows up from the chair shortly thereafter with a swirling of skirts.
But there she pauses. It's only for a moment—
"You will consider it, won't you? Doing away with the arm."
The genuine concern softens Cosima's expression some. "...I will. I promise. I can't say for sure where I'll come out, but I can promise you I'll give it serious thought. It deserves that."
There is just the barest instant of examination in which Wysteria looks at her and seriously measures this statement. Yes, it does deserve that. The she nods, a brisk little thing, and squares her shoulders.
"Very good. Should you need anything else I am of course at your disposal, Provost."
Then, in a flurry of skirts and the excitable bouncing of the little off white dog—finally! They're off to run up and down more stairs! Or to sniff more smells! Or to bother Viktor, whose trouser hems he loves to nip at!—, Wysteria scuttles from the office.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(He probably wouldn't. Strange gives Cosima the impression of a man who'd rather have as many tasks as possible.)
"I'll talk to Viktor, though, thanks for the suggestion. And." She exhales. "Thanks. This was a lot of work, and whatever it translates to in policy, or doesn't, it's useful for all of us to know." 'Us,' in this case, rifters especially, though she supposes the rest of Riftwatch is better off for the information as well.
no subject
"Oh," his mistress says. "Yes, of course. You're most welcome. Would that we'd have managed to have the study done sooner."
no subject
(Well, the Venatori might be involuntarily experimenting on rifters when they get a chance, but that certainly doesn't count for these purposes.)
"Keep me posted, if you end up having follow-up ideas, and I'll reach out if I end up with more questions. But I appreciate your time."
no subject
This sounds like a dismissal, and so Wysteria gathers the little dog out from the space he's squelched into. With a squirm, the animal first clambers into her lap and then launches off of it. Wysteria follows up from the chair shortly thereafter with a swirling of skirts.
But there she pauses. It's only for a moment—
"You will consider it, won't you? Doing away with the arm."
no subject
no subject
"Very good. Should you need anything else I am of course at your disposal, Provost."
Then, in a flurry of skirts and the excitable bouncing of the little off white dog—finally! They're off to run up and down more stairs! Or to sniff more smells! Or to bother Viktor, whose trouser hems he loves to nip at!—, Wysteria scuttles from the office.