Because, my dear fellow, you're either stupid or malicious. The former makes you fatally ill-suited to this division, and the latter fatally ill-suited to Riftwatch.
[ His brows come together in blatant incredulity. ]
My dear boy. Even aside from the fact that I am your superior, you invited me to that party; that meant that you were responsible for me in some way. That is how such things work. And I was plainly miserable there. Or - beg your pardon - acting like an arsehole.
[ His imitation of Benedict's accent is sort of mean in how spot-on it is. ]
And the fact that I am your superior just magnifies the fact that you failed in your social duties. Now, if you were in Forces, that might be one thing. But this is Diplomacy. Social acumen is qualification number one.
[ Besides which - ]
And you treated me like shit, and you thought we were getting along? Maker preserve me.
[All the fight gone out of him, Benedict lets the words wash over him, absorbs them; a bereavement rises in him, with the twin revelations that Byerly is right and that, now that all the pieces have been revealed, he's been playing an entirely different game.]
I don't... [he begins quietly, but shakes his head, closing his eyes. What he was about to say isn't necessary in the moment, and would ultimately only worsen what's to come. Talking to Byerly is a mindfuck at the best of times, but that may not be his problem anymore.]
Please don't do this. [Quiet and contrite, drained of energy.]
It was supposed to be fun, [comes the grim, completely devoid-of-fun reply,] you--
[Given the opportunity, perhaps now's the time to bring back what he was about to say.]
I don't know how to talk to you. I wouldn't...
[He fights with the words for a moment, then shakes his head and cautiously meets Byerly's gaze.]
You didn't like when I was polite. I can't speak to you like an equal, because we're. ...not. [He shrugs dully-- no reason to not acknowledge their power difference, as Byerly already pointed it out.]
I thought it was what you wanted. Being spoken to that way.
[Hands raised in exasperation once again, though they lower abruptly-- then come back up, then lower again--]
I thought that's what you wanted. I didn't, like. [He wrinkles his nose.] ...mean it.
[Some of the tension has left his shoulders, but not all of it. He knows better than to ask if this was some kind of horrible joke, because he won't like the answer either way, and they're not out of the woods yet.
There's a difference between rudeness and treating me like that. [ Maker, he'd been miserable at that party. Ambushed, unhappy, on-edge, and very alone. ] And a difference between rudeness in this office and out there, as well.
He feels like he's run a marathon, but there's a length of it left.]
Mostly how to shut up while Mother is talking, [he sighs with visible defeat, knowing how pathetic it is, knowing what's likely said of him if or when the topic arises out of his earshot.]
I've never organized a gathering before. She controlled everything, in case I accidentally mixed with the wrong people.
I've-- [he begins, and stops with a self-conscious laugh. He's still coming down from the panic, still a little afraid of what he can and can't say, even if he knows rationally what Byerly wants.]
--I've tried to hold my own. Once or twice. ...it doesn't always end up this badly, but.
[Otherwise it gets him slapped by both sides of a couple within minutes of each other, so not exactly an improvement.]
[He gingerly goes to sit on the edge of his desk, only now remembering that he's holding things from it, and sets them down.]
There was that party, at Alexandrie's. Where the wine was poisoned, and the visiting diplomat died. [Whom he had personally been escorting, as the chamberlain, but that's neither here nor there.]
I don't think that went well for anyone.
[He closes his eyes for a moment, shuddering at the memory-- it's the reason he'll no longer drink wine that he didn't see someone open.]
And... Alexandrie [there's a pattern here] used me to make Loki jealous, at some ball or another. I danced with her, it worked, somehow it ended with both of them slapping me. ...I probably said something I shouldn't have.
He falls silent a moment as he tries to think of more, but shakes his head.]
I thought I'd be good at that sort of game, because my mother plays them all day. You'd think some of the talent would've rubbed off, but. [It obviously didn't.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yes, I think I will fire you.
no subject
no subject
no subject
I don't...
[His voice catches as his mind races away, but he corrals it back long enough to finish the sentence. Even then, his words shake.]
I don't understand.
no subject
It could also just be common disrespect, I suppose. Regardless. [ Then: ] What don't you understand, dear fellow?
no subject
[The word is hissed, incredulous, but he continues to quiver with unease.]
You made it abundantly clear how you wanted to be addressed-- but I-- [back to the topic at hand,]
--I'm not stupid. I invited you to a birthday party and you acted like an arsehole, and this is my fault?
no subject
no subject
[Indignation returns, as if in a wave, and then ebbs away completely. It's Byerly, so the fight was lost when it began.]
...we were getting along. You and I. ...I thought.
[He looks past him, eyes distant and weary.]
I thought you'd get along with them too.
[Perhaps stupid is the word after all.]
no subject
My dear boy. Even aside from the fact that I am your superior, you invited me to that party; that meant that you were responsible for me in some way. That is how such things work. And I was plainly miserable there. Or - beg your pardon - acting like an arsehole.
[ His imitation of Benedict's accent is sort of mean in how spot-on it is. ]
And the fact that I am your superior just magnifies the fact that you failed in your social duties. Now, if you were in Forces, that might be one thing. But this is Diplomacy. Social acumen is qualification number one.
[ Besides which - ]
And you treated me like shit, and you thought we were getting along? Maker preserve me.
no subject
I don't... [he begins quietly, but shakes his head, closing his eyes. What he was about to say isn't necessary in the moment, and would ultimately only worsen what's to come. Talking to Byerly is a mindfuck at the best of times, but that may not be his problem anymore.]
Please don't do this. [Quiet and contrite, drained of energy.]
no subject
Andraste's name, did you have no idea what you were doing? Did you think there would be no consequences?
no subject
[Given the opportunity, perhaps now's the time to bring back what he was about to say.]
I don't know how to talk to you. I wouldn't...
[He fights with the words for a moment, then shakes his head and cautiously meets Byerly's gaze.]
You didn't like when I was polite. I can't speak to you like an equal, because we're. ...not. [He shrugs dully-- no reason to not acknowledge their power difference, as Byerly already pointed it out.]
I thought it was what you wanted. Being spoken to that way.
no subject
I'm as well-bred as you. I know I am but a rough Southern barbarian, but that does not make me your social inferior.
[ And - ]
I wanted friendly rudeness, not that.
no subject
You're my superior. In Riftwatch.
no subject
So your solution was to treat me like shit on your shoe? [ Then, with a burst of irritated breath - ] You're not fired.
no subject
I thought that's what you wanted. I didn't, like. [He wrinkles his nose.] ...mean it.
[Some of the tension has left his shoulders, but not all of it. He knows better than to ask if this was some kind of horrible joke, because he won't like the answer either way, and they're not out of the woods yet.
He pushes his hair back out of his face.]
no subject
There's a difference between rudeness and treating me like that. [ Maker, he'd been miserable at that party. Ambushed, unhappy, on-edge, and very alone. ] And a difference between rudeness in this office and out there, as well.
[ And, echoing Bastien's question: ]
What do they teach you in Minrathous?
no subject
He feels like he's run a marathon, but there's a length of it left.]
Mostly how to shut up while Mother is talking, [he sighs with visible defeat, knowing how pathetic it is, knowing what's likely said of him if or when the topic arises out of his earshot.]
I've never organized a gathering before. She controlled everything, in case I accidentally mixed with the wrong people.
no subject
She did use you quite badly, didn't she?
no subject
More, I think, than I could have imagined.
no subject
[ A flick of his fingers. ]
You need to develop these skills.
no subject
I've-- [he begins, and stops with a self-conscious laugh. He's still coming down from the panic, still a little afraid of what he can and can't say, even if he knows rationally what Byerly wants.]
--I've tried to hold my own. Once or twice. ...it doesn't always end up this badly, but.
[Otherwise it gets him slapped by both sides of a couple within minutes of each other, so not exactly an improvement.]
no subject
no subject
[He gingerly goes to sit on the edge of his desk, only now remembering that he's holding things from it, and sets them down.]
There was that party, at Alexandrie's. Where the wine was poisoned, and the visiting diplomat died.
[Whom he had personally been escorting, as the chamberlain, but that's neither here nor there.]
I don't think that went well for anyone.
[He closes his eyes for a moment, shuddering at the memory-- it's the reason he'll no longer drink wine that he didn't see someone open.]
And... Alexandrie [there's a pattern here] used me to make Loki jealous, at some ball or another. I danced with her, it worked, somehow it ended with both of them slapping me. ...I probably said something I shouldn't have.
[Lexie has a flair for the dramatic, but Benedict hasn't exactly been known for his tactful repartée.
He falls silent a moment as he tries to think of more, but shakes his head.]
I thought I'd be good at that sort of game, because my mother plays them all day. You'd think some of the talent would've rubbed off, but. [It obviously didn't.]
no subject
How did she use you to make him jealous.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)