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altusimperius

tell him how pretty he is

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From:

altusimperius

[Benedict looks up at him, pleasantly enough, but Byerly's expression incites tension in his own. If one listens closely, they can hear the klaxons beginning to sound in his mind.

Of all the words to describe Byerly Rutyer, awkward doesn't tend to be one.]

Edited Date: 2023-09-27 10:45 pm (UTC)

From:

bouchonne

Coffee?

[ Whatever is causing that discomfort, he evidently isn't in any great rush to explain it. He settles at his desk and awaits his morning (early afternoon) brew, reaching into his inbox for his pile of work. ]

From:

altusimperius

[It successfully snaps Benedict out of his worry, at least for the moment, but gone is the boy who’d scramble to run downstairs and make a new pot: there’s already a carafe waiting on a warming glyph, and Bene rises to go deposit into the waiting mug.
He makes it the way Byerly likes (a cooling glyph bears the pitcher of cream) and comes over to set it on his desk, offering an unsubtle once-over, but offers no commentary.

Everyone’s been through a lot lately. Acting weird is the status quo.]

From:

bouchonne

[ There is, Byerly reflects, no putting it off. No cowardice. So, before Benedict walks away, he says - ]

Hold on, Artemaeus; I'd like a moment of your time. Please sit.

From:

altusimperius

[Benedict pauses mid-step, his shoulders seizing with tension again, and instead of returning to his desk he comes to sink into the chair across from Byerly's.

His eyes search Byerly's face, frenetic and nervous; this isn't the way the Ambassador talks when something good has happened.]

From:

bouchonne

Oh, calm down. You look like you're about to shit a brick.

[ That's profane enough that this clearly isn't that bad. But still - there's that awkward air. He fiddles momentarily with his pen, a smile on his lips, and says - ]

So - I've come to a bit of a decision.

From:

altusimperius

[The phrasing is enough to bring a familiar wrinkle to Benedict's nose, a common reaction to when Byerly gets especially vulgar, but no actual admonition is given. It's part of their rapport: Byerly says something rude, Benedict gives him the stinkeye, they move on.

He doesn't chime in, too tongue-tied with anticipation to get lippy or try to hurry things along, but his expression becomes slightly more imploring. Out with it, please.]

From:

bouchonne

[ Fine, fine. ]

I've decided to step down as head of Diplomacy. Go back to being an ordinary diplomat.

From:

altusimperius

[The words land, and they're neither better nor worse than Benedict was anticipating: well, all right, maybe a little better, in that nobody's dying or being fired. A silence settles between them as he processes it, no doubt trying to determine whether to panic and exactly how much. So far, he holds off.]

Why? [he asks, and the word isn't as accusatory as it might be; it's spoken quietly, almost in the same tone that someone might say 'are you all right'.]

From:

bouchonne

I died.

[ His smile is crooked, and wry, and there's a bit of pain in it, too. ]

And it made me realize that - Well, I don't want to spend all my time in this world doing something I hate. And I have been unselfish for several years, now, and think I've earned the right to selfishness again.

From:

altusimperius

[As easily as he sneered before, Benedict mirrors the smile that's flashed his way, even if it dwindles shortly after. Recent events put a lot of things in perspective; one of which, as much as he might have hated to admit it not too long ago, is that Byerly is important to him. That he cares about his happiness.

But still: there are other factors to consider.]

What does this mean? [he continues in a low, controlled, tone: he's still working to keep panic at bay, because growing empathy doesn't make his position any more precarious. He's not going to pick a fight about it-- and he's not getting clapped in irons and hauled away, so perhaps catastrophizing won't help anything, tempting though it may be.]

From:

bouchonne

What you want it to mean.

[ He looks at Benedict. ]

If there's one thing that's been made clear, it's that you don't need my protection any more. When I was gone, no one did a thing against you. You've been a steady and loyal member of this organization for years now - no one is interested in persecuting you.

From:

altusimperius

[The subtle shifting of Benedict’s eyes indicates this might not be entirely true, as he sees it, but he doesn’t argue: he’s got it handled, or something. He’ll figure it out.

More importantly, and with a discomfort that manifests itself as haughty:]

You’re not leaving, are you?

[He looks stuck up because he always does, but the question contains far more than judgment.]

From:

bouchonne

[ Ah. Byerly is taken aback by the way that question is asked, enough that he's not terribly discreet. He says: ]

Would it upset you if I did?

[ - but it's not mocking or cruel. For once, it's a genuine question. ]

From:

altusimperius

[Bene’s expression doesn’t change, but his gaze flicks to Byerly and away. He nods.]

From:

bouchonne

[ Well, what the fuck. By smooths down his mustache and answers, evenly as he can: ]

No. It is not my intention to leave. There's still a war to be fought, after all.

From:

altusimperius

[The faintest of smiles twitches onto the corner of his mouth, but he schools it into a more serious expression.]

And you’ll still, [he begins, but stops the question before he can ask it. Too pathetic, abort,]

From:

bouchonne

[ This, he can't imagine the end of. ]

Still...? What?

From:

altusimperius

[Foiled.
He looks down and away, holding onto what little poise he can maintain in this moment.]

…talk to me, [he mumbles.

It’s been years, and they’ve spent almost every day together in some capacity. Suddenly not having Byerly around sounds strange. Sad.]

From:

bouchonne

[ Maker. What to do with this? Byerly has been accustomed, all his life, to people finding ways to avoid talking to him. Never once has he heard someone express an anxiety that he'd go away - only ever anxiety that he wouldn't go away.

What a strange life it is, he reflects, that he has come to lead. ]

I suppose that depends.

[ His voice is light, and far from unkind. ]

Do you have any intention of becoming a bore?

From:

altusimperius

[Benedict almost laughs, but at the last moment he uses the opportunity to look offended and disgusted instead. A bore? Him?

It's a joke.]

From:

bouchonne

Then you have your answer. Besides, we’ll still be working together.

[ A little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. ]

If you stay on as assistant, you may even end up my superior.

From:

altusimperius

Perish the thought.

[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?