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[unshut]

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[unshut]

[Fitcher glances away, smoothly avoiding meeting his eye for any extended measure.]

I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of being pursued no longer.

[bouchonne]

I can understand why. I cannot imagine that many are able to wiggle their way free from their infatuation with you.

[unshut]

[Her eyebrows rise as if to say, You have a point.]

Not before I've wiggled free of them first, in any case.

[When she glances back to him again - my, how uncharacteristically variable her attention has become in these last seconds -, she is all smiles and easy humor once more.]

My congratulations, Ambassador. For being such a bold trailblazer.

[bouchonne]

[ He offers an easy shrug in return, a wry smile. Perhaps her unusual behavior is a sign that he's injured her in some way. And truly, he doesn't want her to feel sorrow - but if she was going to be aggrieved by the loss of him, well, she ought to have played the game a little less ruthlessly.

(And he shan't allow his mind to stray to the uncomfortable thought: what if she was simply moving so slowly because it takes her longer to regain her trust? Because of what's happened to her?) ]

I had a bit of help.

[unshut]

[A brief hm, a tip of the head.]

How happy for the Lady Asgard that she is no longer laboring under a burden of guilt. You must give her my best when next you see her.

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. That gets a slight blink from him. ]

You spoke with her about this?

[unshut]

[Fitcher draws in a small breath through her teeth, adjacent to a laugh - simpler to do now that she has her feet back under her.]

I have eyes in my head, Byerly Rutyer. If you two wish to be more subtle, I might suggest beginning with moderating one's outrage over finding another woman at the foot of your sickbed, and a shade less melodrama at the company parties.

[bouchonne]

[ Well. He clears his throat very slightly. ]

I think melodrama is uncharitable.

[unshut]

Forgive me, [she says, and it sounds genuine - a more gentle thing as her study softens and some of stiffness in the tuck of her arm in his relents.]

I'm feeling a little tender. You understand.

[bouchonne]

Are you?

[ His voice is kind enough. A little wry. ]

I do hope my pursuit was something of a diversion for you. Not simply an annoyance.

[unshut]

Do I seem like the sort of woman who spends time on things she doesn't find amusing? No, I would say you have been, much to my pleasant surprise, something of a perfect gentleman - though I know it will wound you to be hear it.

[How fortunate it is, she thinks, that she didn't put a knife in him straight away.]

Would you like me to tell anyone who might ask what a layabout and scoundrel you are?

[bouchonne]

Ah, yes please.

[ He gives her hand a little squeeze. ]

Say that I only gave up my pursuit after - hm. After you bribed me to go away with a great sum of money? Or perhaps after a protector of yours held a knife to my throat? I'd suggest you holding a knife to my throat, but I think that would run counter to the reputation that you cultivate.

[unshut]

What reputation is that?

[bouchonne]

Oh, you know. Occasionally naughty, but mostly harmless.

[unshut]

[Fitcher hmms, a low thoughtful sound. After a moment—]

Would you mind if I asked why you pose so? I've been terribly curious.

[bouchonne]

[ He answers readily, confidently, and easily. ]

Why, because it's amusing, of course.

[unshut]

[Her smile flexes.]

Of course.

[They are reaching the end of this stretch of the landing, and must either pause here or turn and wind their way back the way they'd come. With her arm in his, Fitcher steers him toward the latter though it means presenting herself to the breeze cutting in off the water.]

In that case, I have a favor to ask that is in your best interests you do.

[bouchonne]

[ He considers switching positions. Decides, finally, to release her arm and step around to take the breeze again. Since he's confirmed his lack of caddishness and all - no reputation to lose. ]

Then it doesn't sound like a favor.

[unshut]

In both our interests then.

[She is perfectly comfortable about reclaiming his new arm as they proceed.]

We have a mutual friend who I believe knows a little of your pursuit of me, and I would find misleading him difficult. I trust you will find a better way of putting it to him which preserves both our reputations.

[bouchonne]

[ He frowns, a little curious, searching his mind for someone - frankly - whom Fitcher would have trouble lying to. ]

To which friend do you refer?

[unshut]

Bastien, of course.

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. Of course. Who else? ]

I didn't know you were so fond of him.

[ Unless, of course, she means that misleading him would be difficult because of his Bardly talents. Does she know of his particular set of skills? He ought to ask Bastien. ]

[unshut]

Fond enough that I prefer not to tell him one thing if there is a chance you might tell him something else. It might color our trips to the theater, you see. And I know of no one else in Riftwatch outside of Bastien who takes the same delight in rubbish that I do.

[Byerly's affections are one thing. To dispense with Bastien's happy company would be a very different thing altogether.]

[bouchonne]

[ Should he tell her? He wonders. He and Bastien haven't had many discussions about whether or not to be forthright with their relationship. Which is a conversation he should have with him, and sooner rather than later. It is not, after all, always advantageous for a Bard to be known to be attached. Moreover, there are some with a rather backwards view of same-sex affection - though most of them located in his own homeland, and rather fewer in Antiva. Hm. Well...He'll raise the topic with Bastien later, and play coy for now.

(Though the temptation to get a reaction from her again is a very strong one, and that news might suffice to draw one out.) ]

I fear I must tell our dear Bastien the truth. I hope you do not object?

[ A knowing little grin slips out against his will. ]

[unshut]

I suppose it would depend on the exact shape of that truth, and exactly why you've decided to break off your chase.

[A tip of the head, a quirk of the brow.]

If it is simply because of dear Lady Asgard's sweetness or because I have kept you on rather an unpleasantly short rein, then by all means. If this is somehow because of what we discussed en route to Denerim, I might prefer otherwise. But even then I can hardly stop you.