[Wandering into Research probably isn't the best indication of security, but luckily he is both sober and being relatively respectful, in the sense that he's not touching anything that he can't figure out and he's not moving anything, either.
He is, on the other hand, eating an apple, and currently staring at a long and very confusing document that lists -
- actually, Gannicus doesn't know what it lists. He can read, but it's truly a "barely" kind of thing.
He hears her come in, and he doesn't turn. He's in his usual subligaculum, but his boots do come up to his thighs, and he has his cloak sort of wrapped around his hips.]
What mess is this?
[He turns, and spots her, and she's younger than he imagined.]
[It's easy to hear Wysteria coming. Her boots have a hard sole on the that go tak-tak-tak as she makes her way along the corridor, and she is accompanied by a little white dog so thrilled to be moving from one point in space to the next that his little nails drum a very similar beat before her.
The dog is, in fact, the first one through the door. He bounds directly for the stranger, quite eager to jump up and put his small paws all over the man's shins and knees and whatever else in a bid to say hello hello hello what have you got in your hand bark bark bark. Wysteria is only a half stride behind him. Her reception is markedly less warm.
She screams, dropping a great deal of papers there on the doorstep.]
Sweet gods in Heaven—!
[(You'd be startled too if you walked into work thinking about airships and found a half naked man standing there.)]
[The little white dog seems to be of the enthusiastic opinion that, yes! He can in fact eat apples! Particularly the crunchy core part, which he chomps through with a great deal of pleasure.
It absorbs some of the pause which might otherwise be filled only by Wysteria's shocked blustering. Then she hurriedly crouches to begin gathering the papers from where they've fallen, sweeping them together one-handed as color creeps up the back of her neck.]
Yes, well. Perhaps surprising people is part and parcel for such places, but it isn't done quite so often here in the research work rooms thank you very much.
[He scratches the dog behind the ears, sweet and soft, as he dips his head to look at him. What a cute creature. Gannicus has a soft spot for little animals, dogs, and cats, and they generally like him.]
You are working on the...air ship?
[He had a little conversation about it, but it wasn't too invested at the time. But now he's curious.]
[From the floor where she is still scraping up papers into a single stack, Wysteria looks up at him—no, she doesn't. She is very faithfully reverting her eyeline to these scattered documents and primly clearing her throat.]
That is correct. Viktor and I are adapting plans devised by myself and the late Provost Stark. I imagine us to be in the testing phases shortly. A miniature is in the process of assembly.
[The dog, meanwhile, is patently thrilled by this affection. His little white body squirms in Gannicus's grip less to escape and more just to encourage this excellent treatment. Everyone should be as grateful to see him as this stranger is, obviously.]
[This seems like a critical clarification to make here, because he is not from Tevinter and wouldn't have gone willingly, particularly in the circumstances that he was forced to go in. Still.
He has that accent.
He scratches her dog behind his ears and smiles just a little - at the dog, mind - and then looks back up at Wysteria.]
All of these words, then. They mean you can make a ship fly?
[Papers officially gathered, Wysteria pops back upright with them clutched against her bodice.]
Obviously it's more complicated than that, but I don't expect anyone other than myself, Viktor and Mister Talis to understand the details of the thing. I wasn't aware they had gladiator games in Seheron.
I should hope so. Otherwise we are wasting a great deal of— [She clears her throat. It's a prim sound, correcting herself.] Yes. It will actually fly. We, which is to say Viktor and Mister Talis and myself, are all quite certain.
[She is standing very straight and upright, and looking him directly—well, not quite in the eye. But something close to it, so long as his left ear counts.]
I've heard they have flying sleds in Minrathous. Only that they're old machines made with blood magic. It will be something like those, only larger. And requiring no blood.
[It is a very compelling ear. Far more interesting than his shirtless torso, or the prospect of his face which might lead to his neck which might lead in the direction of the aforementioned. Obviously.]
A griffon can only carry two riders. A flying boat might carry a great deal more than that, to say nothing of the sort of armaments it might be equipped with. It is rather equivalent to asking the difference between swimming up to a fortress with knives between one's teeth and sailing up to it with an Antivan Fire pump.
Which is to say, that I believe it will be of considerable tactical advantage to the war effort. We may not have a dragon, but it hardly does to simply surrender that playing field.
I would be strongly in favor, yes. Though I'm hardly the only—it would be dependent, [she explains, her eyeline finally wandering away from his ear and in the direction of— his face, momentarily distracted by the semantics of politics.
This is somewhat encouraged by the small white dog making great efforts to lick Gannicus on the chin.]
On what was approved and directed by Provost Niehaus. And what Riftwatch is capable of paying for, of course. But yes, I think a fire pump would be most convenient should we find ourselves, say, sparring with a dragon.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He is, on the other hand, eating an apple, and currently staring at a long and very confusing document that lists -
- actually, Gannicus doesn't know what it lists. He can read, but it's truly a "barely" kind of thing.
He hears her come in, and he doesn't turn. He's in his usual subligaculum, but his boots do come up to his thighs, and he has his cloak sort of wrapped around his hips.]
What mess is this?
[He turns, and spots her, and she's younger than he imagined.]
Is this yours?
no subject
The dog is, in fact, the first one through the door. He bounds directly for the stranger, quite eager to jump up and put his small paws all over the man's shins and knees and whatever else in a bid to say hello hello hello what have you got in your hand bark bark bark. Wysteria is only a half stride behind him. Her reception is markedly less warm.
She screams, dropping a great deal of papers there on the doorstep.]
Sweet gods in Heaven—!
[(You'd be startled too if you walked into work thinking about airships and found a half naked man standing there.)]
no subject
Picks up her dog, and gets doggy kisses to the chin until he gives said dog the rest of his apple. Dogs can eat apples, right?]
There are no gods here.
[He says it with a slight tilt of his head.]
Well. No, I have been called god of the arena.
covers timestamp with thumb
It absorbs some of the pause which might otherwise be filled only by Wysteria's shocked blustering. Then she hurriedly crouches to begin gathering the papers from where they've fallen, sweeping them together one-handed as color creeps up the back of her neck.]
Yes, well. Perhaps surprising people is part and parcel for such places, but it isn't done quite so often here in the research work rooms thank you very much.
no subject
You are working on the...air ship?
[He had a little conversation about it, but it wasn't too invested at the time. But now he's curious.]
no subject
That is correct. Viktor and I are adapting plans devised by myself and the late Provost Stark. I imagine us to be in the testing phases shortly. A miniature is in the process of assembly.
[The dog, meanwhile, is patently thrilled by this affection. His little white body squirms in Gannicus's grip less to escape and more just to encourage this excellent treatment. Everyone should be as grateful to see him as this stranger is, obviously.]
And you are the Tevinter fighter.
no subject
[This seems like a critical clarification to make here, because he is not from Tevinter and wouldn't have gone willingly, particularly in the circumstances that he was forced to go in. Still.
He has that accent.
He scratches her dog behind his ears and smiles just a little - at the dog, mind - and then looks back up at Wysteria.]
All of these words, then. They mean you can make a ship fly?
no subject
[Papers officially gathered, Wysteria pops back upright with them clutched against her bodice.]
Obviously it's more complicated than that, but I don't expect anyone other than myself, Viktor and Mister Talis to understand the details of the thing. I wasn't aware they had gladiator games in Seheron.
no subject
[He raises both eyebrows.]
And will it actually fly?
no subject
[She is standing very straight and upright, and looking him directly—well, not quite in the eye. But something close to it, so long as his left ear counts.]
I've heard they have flying sleds in Minrathous. Only that they're old machines made with blood magic. It will be something like those, only larger. And requiring no blood.
[Ideally.]
no subject
And if it does fly, how do you intend to use it? What makes it better than a griffon?
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A griffon can only carry two riders. A flying boat might carry a great deal more than that, to say nothing of the sort of armaments it might be equipped with. It is rather equivalent to asking the difference between swimming up to a fortress with knives between one's teeth and sailing up to it with an Antivan Fire pump.
Which is to say, that I believe it will be of considerable tactical advantage to the war effort. We may not have a dragon, but it hardly does to simply surrender that playing field.
no subject
[He gives her that much, but it's clearly an easy agreement. Okay. It's not like he was fighting for being convinced.]
Are you adding a fire pump to it?
no subject
This is somewhat encouraged by the small white dog making great efforts to lick Gannicus on the chin.]
On what was approved and directed by Provost Niehaus. And what Riftwatch is capable of paying for, of course. But yes, I think a fire pump would be most convenient should we find ourselves, say, sparring with a dragon.
no subject
And what else?
[Oh, he is absolutely giving no leeway, so.]