[OH rEALLY IT DOESN'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE is the face Val makes at her. He stays right where he is, arms folded over his chest.]
I will find out. Without you.
[Just saying. Now he stops with that posture, and takes a final sip of brandy, finishing it all.]
If you are committed to the idea, mademoiselle, I suggest you refrain from telling me what to do with my papers. I have managed them this long without your guidance. I expect to be able to continue in this way. With truly professional assistance, of course. Do give my best to this Mr. Brown, whatever he is.
[Such is the extent of her bliss - and how truly perfect it is! There is simply no arrangement of circumstances in which the matter resolves itself in a way that is not wholly satisfactory! -, that poor Mr. Brown's reputation is left undefended. She is not even put out by the threat to her own professionalism; in this mood, even she might agree the descriptor would questionable at best, and utterly inapplicable by default. She does not possess even a single certificate of education, either here or in Kalvad.]
I will. And naturally I will keep you informed should he have any valuable suggestion for us. And should you ever like the opinion of a layman on your work - which I rather doubt you do, but let us say that I'm curious how far your alleged expertise is meant to extend -, I would be most delighted to read your papers.
[With a cheerful smile, Wysteria downs the remaining contents of her own glass and sets it aside.]
[He draws himself up with grace and aplomb and leans his hands on the table so he can lean across it toward her and say six deadly words:]
You will never read my work.
[And he takes a step backwards to give him ample space to point a dramatic finger at her.]
And it is your loss. And it will always be your loss, and it will frustrate you. Down here in your root cellar in your large and undecorated house.
[So there. He backs up two more steps, closing the distance between himself and the staircase--gives her one last emphatic point--and then turns to go back up the stairs and leave her to her root cellar and her undecorated house,]
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no subject
Val folds his arms over his chest. His cup of brandy is still in his hand. It sloshes dangerously, but does not spill.]
You want me to ask. Again. But I will not ask.
no subject
no subject
I will find out. Without you.
[Just saying. Now he stops with that posture, and takes a final sip of brandy, finishing it all.]
If you are committed to the idea, mademoiselle, I suggest you refrain from telling me what to do with my papers. I have managed them this long without your guidance. I expect to be able to continue in this way. With truly professional assistance, of course. Do give my best to this Mr. Brown, whatever he is.
no subject
I will. And naturally I will keep you informed should he have any valuable suggestion for us. And should you ever like the opinion of a layman on your work - which I rather doubt you do, but let us say that I'm curious how far your alleged expertise is meant to extend -, I would be most delighted to read your papers.
[With a cheerful smile, Wysteria downs the remaining contents of her own glass and sets it aside.]
Will that be all for now, Monsieur?
no subject
You will never read my work.
[And he takes a step backwards to give him ample space to point a dramatic finger at her.]
And it is your loss. And it will always be your loss, and it will frustrate you. Down here in your root cellar in your large and undecorated house.
[So there. He backs up two more steps, closing the distance between himself and the staircase--gives her one last emphatic point--and then turns to go back up the stairs and leave her to her root cellar and her undecorated house,]
no subject
And, upon reflection, maybe she will treat herself to a second glass of brandy.]