[Bene's smile returns, but goes a bit strange: he's not sure he wants to see that happen. Historically, he doesn't lend himself well to outranking people.
But no need to borrow trouble from the future, maybe it won't happen.]
I have been scandal-free for going on four years now. Or close enough to scandal-free. I wouldn't even have to try to be more scandalous than I have been. If anything, it shall be like releasing a muscle that has been clenched for far too long.
[The incredulous look Byerly receives is genuine this time: Benedict fully doesn't know what to do with that kind of... what, control? Power over Byerly, of all people?
He shakes his head slightly, uneasily.]
...I don't keep slaves anymore. [he's not going to forbid anything, damn]
[Bene’s smile is genuine, even if there’s a bit of tension at its corners.]
Death by a thousand cuts, I think, [he says softly, uncertainly, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to joke about it— you know, personal growth forced by bucketloads of trauma.]
I miss him a little. He always knew what to do. [ugh, principles]
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It's a joke.]
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[ A little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. ]
If you stay on as assistant, you may even end up my superior.
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[Bene's smile returns, but goes a bit strange: he's not sure he wants to see that happen. Historically, he doesn't lend himself well to outranking people.
But no need to borrow trouble from the future, maybe it won't happen.]
What will you do instead?
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[ He shrugs. ]
Be a bit more dissolute, a bit more scandalous. Rub elbows with less respectable company.
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[ He seems affronted at this question. ]
I have been scandal-free for going on four years now. Or close enough to scandal-free. I wouldn't even have to try to be more scandalous than I have been. If anything, it shall be like releasing a muscle that has been clenched for far too long.
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[ His fingertips give a faint sense of awkwardness as he fiddles with his pen. ]
So you are...all right with this?
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I have to be, don't I?
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[ The awkwardness grows just a bit. ]
You can, in fact, forbid it. If you so choose. I - will not leave you without protection if you truly feel you must have it.
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He shakes his head slightly, uneasily.]
...I don't keep slaves anymore. [he's not going to forbid anything, damn]
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All right. Then to phrase it a bit more gently: your disapproval is of consequence to me. I care.
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[The corner of his mouth twitches up in a sheepish smirk, which goes away just as quickly.]
But who would that benefit? Even if I could make you stay in the role, I couldn’t make you like it. I can’t… be responsible for that.
[He squares his shoulders.]
And besides, I don’t think you’d ever forgive me.
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That would be an idiotic thing to hold a grudge over. It would be my choice.
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[He pauses, then, furrowing his brow right back,]
Byerly, why would you ever do that.
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[ That's glib, surface-level. Easier than something more personal and true. ]
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Is it? Do you have no concept of service amongst the Alti? No noblesse oblige, as the Orlesians say?
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it’s stupid to do it for me.
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[ It’s not malicious, this teasing. It’s clearly well-intentioned. ]
Where’s that preening narcissist I know and love? Where did he go?
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Death by a thousand cuts, I think, [he says softly, uncertainly, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to joke about it— you know, personal growth forced by bucketloads of trauma.]
I miss him a little. He always knew what to do. [ugh, principles]
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[ From Byerly's smile, he certainly approves of that sort of joking. ]
Well, you'll get that back. It's like learning to speak a new language, you know - you start out clumsy at first.
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[But it has gotten easier, all told.]
...I'll miss you around the office. Assuming I'm permitted to stay.
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I'll be in, now and again. On the other side of the desk.
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...if you ask nicely. [he is being a little shit on purpose]