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[unshut]

(crystal | written | action)

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[unshut]

[The offered arm is gamely accepted.]

You must find some corner of it pleasant. I doubt anyone could force you to hold the position.

[bouchonne]

No, you're quite wrong. I am being forced.

[ His expression is pained. ]

Yseult, our scoutmaster, she's fed me a poison, and unless she administers the antidote each night, I will perish. "Remain our diplomat-in-chief," she says, "or I shall withdraw this tincture, and your life shall be forfeit."

[unshut]

[She clucks her tongue, and with her free hand pats his arm.]

How fortunate we are to have such a clever master of intelligence.

[bouchonne]

How unfortunate we are to have such a ruthless one! I could be just lounging about low places in a drunken haze. Instead, here I am.

[unshut]

And yet one version of you is surely much better for fighting a war, I think. Not that I begrudge you your lounging, [she assures him, dropping the put on version of arch rhetoric for a moment in favor of a smile.] May you return to it as swiftly as you're able.

[bouchonne]

The dream.

[ A fond sigh. And then, with a slight sideways glance - ]

And you? Found yourself any mischief lately?

[unshut]

Me? Byerly, I am a devout old woman who copies reports for eight hours a day. I am the steadfast picture of sobriety. —Which I trust is what you will say should anyone from Kirkwall come calling for me insisting that I owe them money. They must have the wrong woman all together.

[To say she is breezy about it would be a lie, for Fitcher's voice is too low for such a thing. But the easiness of the joke is there in the curve of her mouth and the dismissive tip of her head.]

No. Very little, all things considered.

[bouchonne]

Thank the Maker.

[ His smile back at her is rather conspiratorial. ]

You could make terrible trouble for us if you so chose, I suspect. - And I would never call you old.

[unshut]

And yet I am. I consider it one of my finest qualities, you know.

[Certainly a rare one. All things considered. She cheerfully pinches the back of his hand.]

But I wouldn't expect you to understand such a thing.

[bouchonne]

[ With a false simper: ]

Because I am so fresh and youthful?

[ He feels older every day. Thirty-six. ]

[unshut]

[The smile she gives him in reply is warm, though here there is some measure of reserve. Something like that, but consider more seriously—]

And because it is something like a matter of professional pride, and you and I have been employed very differently, I think. A bird doesn't appreciate what a fish does.

[bouchonne]

Which of us is the bird, in this case, and which the fish?

[unshut]

You know I can't stomach being on the water.

[She wrinkles her nose.]

Though come to think of it, I'm no lover of heights either. Perhaps a scorpion and a housecat would be a better analogy, hm? You do like to be scratched behind the ear.

[bouchonne]

Madame. I am shocked.

[ He shakes his head at her. ]

Here I am, a good Fereldan fellow, and you're not even tempted by dog?

[unshut]

Give my creativity some credit, Messere! [is all matching mock outrage.]

Anyway, you are far too nimble to be a hound. I'm afraid you must accept the offense to your patriotic sensibilities.

[bouchonne]

And insufficiently noble. I suppose a slinking creature of the night suits me well.

[ And, easily: ]

Better by far than scorpion suits you. Honestly.

[unshut]

[She hums, the line of her chin rising with her eyebrows.]

Do you have a better suggestion?

[bouchonne]

[ He hums as well. ]

A polecat.

[unshut]

I don't know that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting one. What are they like?

[bouchonne]

Fierce, clever, tidy, slender, and with the loveliest fur you've ever seen.

[unshut]

[Her laugh is a low approving chuckle - dark and warm like some tart spiced wine and very pleasant indeed in the crisp-bordering-on-cold night air as they make their way down the long face of the Gallows.]

I'm fairly certain there are as many opinions on your posting as there are members of Riftwatch. But you're very good at flattery, Byerly.

[bouchonne]

The secret of the art is to only ever say things that are true.

[unshut]

[She cheerfully pinches the back of his hand a second time.]

[bouchonne]

[ Laughing slightly - ]

I'm being serious! Flattery only works if you pick out something truly marvelous about the person. If it's a lie, they'll know it, and you'll have failed.

[unshut]

And so we see that my assessment was right all along. House cats being resourceful and clever as a rule.