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[interroga]

( crystals · correspondence · private scenes )

Comments

i want a casual thread so I'm just gonna make the assumption that b+b didn't murder cassian

[bouchonne]

[ Hearing Cassian lightly roasting Benedict has piqued Byerly's interest enough to make him reach out. ]

I hope you're settling in well enough? Despite the very dubious hospitality of some of the handsomer members of this august company.

grabby hands

[interroga]

[ Dryly but not unfriendly, despite everything: ] There’s so many people who’d fit that description.

You’re not the morale officer, are you?

[bouchonne]

Why do you ask? Do you have bad morale to report?

[interroga]

The welcome wagon could be better. And I could see a morale officer checking on how people are settling in. Who knows, maybe that’s your job —

[bouchonne]

I could also be a medical officer. Checking in on newcomers who may have recently suffered a grievous head wound.

[interroga]

Thanks for the concern; I know what concussions feel like. If I didn’t die in my sleep that night, I’m probably fine.

I wasn’t expecting to get that up close and personal with you and your— [ there’s the slightest pause in the sentence, fishing around for the right word; are they husbands? they’d certainly seemed comfortable and domestic enough for it, ] partner’s decor, though.

[bouchonne]

[ No term more correct is offered; partner, it seems, is good enough. ]

Well, I would hope you weren't expecting it. Not only would that mean that your tolerance for risk is far too high, it also would mean that the two of us are losing our touch.

[ And, a bit less archly - ]

He's a Bard by training. I've spent my life in service to Ferelden. He's reasonably open about his history, but I don't share mine too widely.

[ A spy's apology if ever there was one - handing over a vulnerability. ]

[interroga]

[ Cassian accepts that apology in the spirit it’s intended. People like them are so stingy with these vulnerabilities and honesties, carving off and offering only the smallest pieces of themselves as necessary. He knows what that’s like. (He still hasn’t said the word Ferrix to anyone here.)

So, relenting, with a compliment in turn: ] I can see that training in both of you.

I’ll be able to laugh about it eventually. It’s only the second time I’ve ever met new friends while tied to a chair.

[ Friends: a dangling implication there too. No hard feelings. ]

[bouchonne]

[ Friends could be a manipulation. By hopes that it’s not. ]

What was the first?

[interroga]

Bad luck, accidentally having the same target on the same night as a cat burglar. I was after the magister’s paperwork while she was after his gold, and I was too slow— she tied me up, robbed me blind, and I had to walk home without my shoes. Didn’t hold it against her.

[ It’s not a vulnerability, but it’s still a piece of the past: those fun professional anecdotes you can only really share amongst like-minded colleagues. ]

[bouchonne]

Hah.

[ Byerly grins. Clever burglar, taking a man’s shoes - an excellent way to slow pursuit. ]

How did you find her again?

[interroga]

At a party the next night. Everyone who knows anyone in those circles were at the same salons. Took a gamble that she might hang around to hear the magister moan and complain about the robbery.

[ It probably wasn’t the smart play to needle your mark like that instead of just getting out of town— but, like, it was very cool of her. ]

[bouchonne]

Hm. A bit reckless.

[interroga]

Yeah. The sort of thing which either explodes in your face, or it’s a great story after. Our thief friend got lucky.

[bouchonne]

As did you. I assume she was pretty?

[interroga]

[ The warmth of a sheepish smile as he answers, ]

Very.

[bouchonne]

A lovely pair of eyes. Every agent’s undoing at one time or another.

[interroga]

Yours seemed to turn out well.

[ Two spies, one household. It seemed to be working, at least from a one-night-only unusual first-glance. ]

[bouchonne]

Well. Sometimes you're a person who lives the sort of life that would benefit from being undone.

[ His voice is warm. ]

We've known each other for years, though, he and I. He taught me how to burgle houses, back when I was a useless lout depending on the questionable charity of my noble cousins. It's only in our old age that it's turned into a different sort of partnership.

[interroga]

So all of that was true? I thought you might’ve made up that part. The burgling training.

[bouchonne]

No, it was true.

[ With a slight laugh - ]

Dreadful timing, though, isn't it? When we were young and carefree, nothing between us. Now that we dare death daily and now that our time is precious, that's when we discover it.

[interroga]

[ A brief pause, a thoughtful hum behind Cassian’s teeth. His response is perhaps surprisingly earnest: ]

I think it makes sense. The versions of you when you were young and carefree, maybe you weren’t right for each other then. While daring death daily is a great way to revise your priorities.

[bouchonne]

[ Hm. Byerly is a bit surprised by that earnestness - but not displeased. There's something awfully charming about a spy who wears his heart on his sleeve.

Lightly teasing - ]

That's very wise. Particularly coming from a Northerner. I've always been under the impression that the Tevinter response to death frightens me is something along the lines of, so I shall conquer death.

[interroga]

[ The teasing’s a welcome respite, a quick distraction from having given away a little more than he meant to— ]

No, those are the power-hungry mages. Lots of cackling during thunderstorms and keeping brains in jars. Easy mistake.

[bouchonne]

Isn’t that everyone up there, though? That’s certainly what the sisters at the Chantry taught me.

[interroga]

You’d think.

[ It only sounds a little arch. He’s well-aware how Tevenes are perceived abroad; it’s been very purposefully set up that way, after all. ]

There are some of us up north who can’t do shit, magically. Not that you’d know it from the reputation.