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."
"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.
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?"
The apology gets an it's all right sort of hand gesture, which Van actually means. Anything Benedict could do to counteract the sins of his countrymen, he already seems to be doing.
"My nephew," he says, which doesn't necessarily answer the question, and then, "He nearly burned the damned house down after a nightmare," which does. "You know how it goes."
This, he's realizing, is one of the things he's missed most in the past several years--having other adult mages to talk to, people he can say things like that to and know they'll simply be understood.
Of course, kind of; it's a rather different environment in Altus families, where one is coaxed into doing magic as early as possible, to ensure that one can. No accidental fires in Minrathous, at least among the upper class. But now doesn't seem like the time to point that out.
"What brings you back to Riftwatch's loving embrace?"
Benedict not pointing that out would be all the proof Van needs that he's a good asset to the division, but the fact goes over Van's head entirely and he remains oblivious. Which is, in itself, proof that Bene is pretty good at the diplomacy thing now.
"Well," he says, "tutoring is well and good, but I thought Riftwatch's embrace might appreciate a bit more firepower." Or hellish, entropic deathpower. As one does.
"So here I am, doing my bit for the war effort. But what about you? You've been here all along, haven't you? How's that gone? What have you been up to?"
"Heheh," comes a stupid little chuckle-- firepower, Kirkwall, look it's a whole thing-- but Bene's thrown off by Vandelin's next question, to which he still doesn't have a properly diplomatic answer that will both sate curiosity and prevent further questioning.
"Uh," he stalls, suddenly fascinated by the wall of the stairwell, "this and that. Mostly working for Byerly since after I..." Awkward pause, "...took a break." Great job. A+
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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?"
no subject
"My nephew," he says, which doesn't necessarily answer the question, and then, "He nearly burned the damned house down after a nightmare," which does. "You know how it goes."
This, he's realizing, is one of the things he's missed most in the past several years--having other adult mages to talk to, people he can say things like that to and know they'll simply be understood.
no subject
Of course, kind of; it's a rather different environment in Altus families, where one is coaxed into doing magic as early as possible, to ensure that one can. No accidental fires in Minrathous, at least among the upper class.
But now doesn't seem like the time to point that out.
"What brings you back to Riftwatch's loving embrace?"
no subject
"Well," he says, "tutoring is well and good, but I thought Riftwatch's embrace might appreciate a bit more firepower." Or hellish, entropic deathpower. As one does.
"So here I am, doing my bit for the war effort. But what about you? You've been here all along, haven't you? How's that gone? What have you been up to?"
no subject
"Heheh," comes a stupid little chuckle-- firepower, Kirkwall, look it's a whole thing-- but Bene's thrown off by Vandelin's next question, to which he still doesn't have a properly diplomatic answer that will both sate curiosity and prevent further questioning.
"Uh," he stalls, suddenly fascinated by the wall of the stairwell, "this and that. Mostly working for Byerly since after I..." Awkward pause, "...took a break." Great job. A+