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.]
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Andraste's name, did you have no idea what you were doing? Did you think there would be no consequences?
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[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.
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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.
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You're my superior. In Riftwatch.
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So your solution was to treat me like shit on your shoe? [ Then, with a burst of irritated breath - ] You're not fired.
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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.]
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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?
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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.
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She did use you quite badly, didn't she?
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More, I think, than I could have imagined.
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[ A flick of his fingers. ]
You need to develop these skills.
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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.]
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[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.]
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How did she use you to make him jealous.
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...had me dance with her. Where he could see.
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While pretending he did not exist, I presume?
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I admit I had a vested interest in breaking them up.
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[ By seems distracted. ]
Why?
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[He watches Byerly's face with a tinge of curiosity.]
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Awful.
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[The faintest, gentlest, most careful of ribbing. Something changed in Byerly's face, and his mind is on something else: that much is clear.]
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[He twists his mouth to one side.]
...yes.
I got over it, I think around the time he stabbed me in the hand.
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[ Said more with irritation than shock. Because, yeah, typical. ]
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