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[He's getting upset. Why is he getting upset? That's not a question he's able to sensibly examine at present, because he's upset.]
Fuck you, [he snaps instead, and turns off his crystal. Sorry Abby.]
Fuck you, [he snaps instead, and turns off his crystal. Sorry Abby.]
And lo, the pitter-patter of tiny feet was heard throughout the Diplomacy office. No, it's not Bring Your Kid To Work Day, it's just Vandelin.
He's here with the intention of introducing himself to whoever's taken over the division in the years since he's last been here, and seeing as it has been years, he's not necessarily expecting any familiar faces--not a situation he likes to find himself in, dealing with the unfamiliar in any way, but needs must.
Unless the first face he sees is a familiar one. Then, Van might allow himself to look slightly, visibly pleased.
"Benedict? Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Sore, very large eyes.
He's here with the intention of introducing himself to whoever's taken over the division in the years since he's last been here, and seeing as it has been years, he's not necessarily expecting any familiar faces--not a situation he likes to find himself in, dealing with the unfamiliar in any way, but needs must.
Unless the first face he sees is a familiar one. Then, Van might allow himself to look slightly, visibly pleased.
"Benedict? Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Sore, very large eyes.
It's early, sleep has been bad lately, and sometimes the only way one can manage to stay awake through the dragging morning hours (without Byerly, who's still abed, sniping at him from over at his desk) is to doodle and hope for something more interesting to come along.
Something more interesting does come along, and Benedict almost doesn't hear him enter, his head too clouded with fatigue; but the sound of his name makes him sit bolt upright and slide the drawing off his desk with practiced agility, the very picture of a lazy student who's just been called on.
It's only when he sees who did the calling that he stops, blinking with a look of honest surprise.
"Vandelin," he says stupidly, his mind still struggling to catch up with his eyes.
Something more interesting does come along, and Benedict almost doesn't hear him enter, his head too clouded with fatigue; but the sound of his name makes him sit bolt upright and slide the drawing off his desk with practiced agility, the very picture of a lazy student who's just been called on.
It's only when he sees who did the calling that he stops, blinking with a look of honest surprise.
"Vandelin," he says stupidly, his mind still struggling to catch up with his eyes.
Van had been mostly unconcerned about the prospect of his erstwhile sorta-kinda-maybeish apprentice not recognizing him, but the confirmation that Bene does is appreciated anyway. His smile grows, faintly.
"Looks like you've done well for yourself."
This is not as surprising to Vandelin as it might be. Benedict's status had been trending slowly upward when he'd left, and Van remains unaware as yet of anything that would have happened to change that, so it stands to reason that as long as he's still here, he ought to have a solid job. The 'still here' part is where the surprise would come in, if Van were someone who would ever in a million years show surprise in company.
"Looks like you've done well for yourself."
This is not as surprising to Vandelin as it might be. Benedict's status had been trending slowly upward when he'd left, and Van remains unaware as yet of anything that would have happened to change that, so it stands to reason that as long as he's still here, he ought to have a solid job. The 'still here' part is where the surprise would come in, if Van were someone who would ever in a million years show surprise in company.
The smile is returned, and is oddly a little sheepish in doing so, but any trepidation Benedict feels isn't enough to outweigh his relief at the sight of a familiar face. A familiar friendly face, or as close to one as there was before a specific era of his life.
"You might say so," he says evasively, immediately shifting from his hand-in-the-cookie-jar surprise to his more characteristic preening, always easily buttered up or at least appearing to be so. "Are you back with us for good? It's been a while."
"You might say so," he says evasively, immediately shifting from his hand-in-the-cookie-jar surprise to his more characteristic preening, always easily buttered up or at least appearing to be so. "Are you back with us for good? It's been a while."
"That's the plan," says Van amiably.
Only with someone he gets along with--and that familiar look on Bene's face does bring back memories, tinged with fondness--would he even let on that it's not a done deal already, implying as that does that Riftwatch might not take him back or something, or that Van's decision to manifest something might not make it law.
"Who'd be the one to speak with about that, these days?"
About getting his foot back in the door with Diplomacy, specifically. Bene does seem to be the one to ask, or why else would he be at the desk?
Only with someone he gets along with--and that familiar look on Bene's face does bring back memories, tinged with fondness--would he even let on that it's not a done deal already, implying as that does that Riftwatch might not take him back or something, or that Van's decision to manifest something might not make it law.
"Who'd be the one to speak with about that, these days?"
About getting his foot back in the door with Diplomacy, specifically. Bene does seem to be the one to ask, or why else would he be at the desk?
"Depends on what you're going for," Bene replies, folding his hands in prim mockery of a businesslike posture, "...but if it's Diplomacy, then Byerly. Once he's awake." The corners of his mouth tug upward slightly-- whether or not he's remarking on his boss' habits is not for anyone present to determine.
"That might be a while. In the meantime, you're welcome to hang around. Have a coffee. Do you drink coffee?" Turning to his own cup, Benedict lifts it invitingly, arching his eyebrows. "I could make you one."
"That might be a while. In the meantime, you're welcome to hang around. Have a coffee. Do you drink coffee?" Turning to his own cup, Benedict lifts it invitingly, arching his eyebrows. "I could make you one."
"I was thinking of Forces this time around, actually. You remember how they were all just clamoring to win me over."
Vandelin has no idea, actually, whether the demographics of that division have shifted away from 'multiple templars with particular reasons to hate him' or if it's still just about the same, but Benedict's certainly heard enough of Van's disdainful commentary about it in years past.
But this does not preclude him from appreciating some gentle ribbing of the diplomats he actually does want to join. The name, he thinks, is familiar, even if he can't put a face to it--but he'll keep that much to himself, wanting to seem a bit less out of touch. If Byerly does ring any bells once Van actually sees him, then he can just pretend to have known that all along.
"But coffee would be wonderful. Much obliged. It's been ages since I had any."
Vandelin has no idea, actually, whether the demographics of that division have shifted away from 'multiple templars with particular reasons to hate him' or if it's still just about the same, but Benedict's certainly heard enough of Van's disdainful commentary about it in years past.
But this does not preclude him from appreciating some gentle ribbing of the diplomats he actually does want to join. The name, he thinks, is familiar, even if he can't put a face to it--but he'll keep that much to himself, wanting to seem a bit less out of touch. If Byerly does ring any bells once Van actually sees him, then he can just pretend to have known that all along.
"But coffee would be wonderful. Much obliged. It's been ages since I had any."
The wrinkling of Benedict's nose communicates all he has to say on that matter, as he flashes Van a look that suggests he hopes he's joking-- but there are more pressing things at hand.
"Come on then," he says in his lofty way, rising from his desk and picking up his own cup, casting a cursory glance behind him at the still-unoccupied main Diplomacy office, just to make sure he isn't just missing the Ambassador. More coffee is never a problem, anyway.
"Unless you'd prefer to wait here." The world has truly turned upside down, if Benedict Artemaeus is heading to the kitchen to make something. For someone else.
"Come on then," he says in his lofty way, rising from his desk and picking up his own cup, casting a cursory glance behind him at the still-unoccupied main Diplomacy office, just to make sure he isn't just missing the Ambassador. More coffee is never a problem, anyway.
"Unless you'd prefer to wait here." The world has truly turned upside down, if Benedict Artemaeus is heading to the kitchen to make something. For someone else.
Van, too, cranes his neck a little--not standing on tiptoe, of course, because he would sooner die than admit to being too small to see over Bene's shoulder--to see if there's anyone in that room or any information to be gleaned from what's in his field of vision. There is not.
But stranger and more miraculous things are occurring, and now he actually does arch his eyebrows with visible surprise. Who is this new and helpful creature wearing Benedict's unfairly pretty face?
"Where would the fun be in that?" He follows, at his own unhurried and short-legged pace. "Clearly there's a great deal I've missed. I don't remember this division being quite such a well-oiled machine when I left."
But stranger and more miraculous things are occurring, and now he actually does arch his eyebrows with visible surprise. Who is this new and helpful creature wearing Benedict's unfairly pretty face?
"Where would the fun be in that?" He follows, at his own unhurried and short-legged pace. "Clearly there's a great deal I've missed. I don't remember this division being quite such a well-oiled machine when I left."
"I suppose you could rifle through our documents. And sell them to... I don't know. Wherever you've been." He strolls out of the office and into the hall, moving toward the stairs-- the many, many stairs-- so they can begin their long descent to the kitchen.
"Where have you been?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder to fix Vandelin with an inquisitive look, "it's been an age." A dragon one, even.
"Where have you been?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder to fix Vandelin with an inquisitive look, "it's been an age." A dragon one, even.
"Hasmal."
Which says quite a bit, just in and of itself, about why it's taken him so long to get back. Vandelin is still enough of a diplomat to feel that it sounds rude to leave it at that, though, when the shortness of it could sound pointed in light of Benedict's origins, and he doesn't mean it to be.
Or at least, not for that reason. In the alienage, he would say to most other people without shame, but something holds him back now from being so frank about it. For all the things that are mostly water under the bridge between him and Benedict, there are a few rocks still lurking to poke holes in the bottoms of boats.
"With family," he settles on, which is saying pretty much the same thing anyway. "Never a dull moment with a new little magelet in the house."
Which says quite a bit, just in and of itself, about why it's taken him so long to get back. Vandelin is still enough of a diplomat to feel that it sounds rude to leave it at that, though, when the shortness of it could sound pointed in light of Benedict's origins, and he doesn't mean it to be.
Or at least, not for that reason. In the alienage, he would say to most other people without shame, but something holds him back now from being so frank about it. For all the things that are mostly water under the bridge between him and Benedict, there are a few rocks still lurking to poke holes in the bottoms of boats.
"With family," he settles on, which is saying pretty much the same thing anyway. "Never a dull moment with a new little magelet in the house."
That does say quite a bit, and if Benedict hadn't spent the last couple years in the Diplomacy mines, schooling himself in the correct behavior to not start international incidents, he might have hitched a step.
He does remain silent for a moment, measuring his answer, and finally decides to settle for "I'm sorry." Then, "a baby? Or someone manifested?"
He does remain silent for a moment, measuring his answer, and finally decides to settle for "I'm sorry." Then, "a baby? Or someone manifested?"
[A little snort. All right.]
What can I do for you?
What can I do for you?
I certainly do.
Are you looking to learn it?
Are you looking to learn it?
We have open tutoring sessions on [mumble] evenings, if you'd like to attend. Plenty of reading materials. Sometimes Brother Vesperus is there. [is that a selling point? it's... well it's a point]
Oh.
Well.
[He's momentarily thrown off.]
...I mean you should, if you want to speak it, but-- I can help.
Well.
[He's momentarily thrown off.]
...I mean you should, if you want to speak it, but-- I can help.
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