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[altusimperius]

tell him how pretty he is

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After the party

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly's voice sounds cheery. ]

My dear fellow! Do you enjoy working as my assistant? Should I allow you to continue?

[altusimperius]

[This is definitely a trap.]


...yes?

[bouchonne]

Why?

[altusimperius]

[Going to his desk, beginning to sort through what he needs for the moment,]

Because the work is interesting and I don't hate you?

[The latter reason is, of course, conditional.]

...and I haven't fucked anything up, at least that I'm aware of.

[bouchonne]

Really. Nothing at all? You can't think of a single thing?

[altusimperius]

[A pause, a sigh, a Look.]

Is this about the party?

[bouchonne]

Ah, that little sigh. Does that sigh indicate that you think you did nothing wrong?

[altusimperius]

What did I do wrong, then.

[He straightens, expression dark.]

I thought, being friends with at least Athessa, you might have a good time. When, instead, you acted like you were being tortured and went out of your way to be rude to everyone present, I realized my error.

[He raises his hands in exasperation.]

It was a fucking birthday party. I'm not exactly drowning in friends, Byerly. Sorry it wasn't a fancy soirée.

[bouchonne]

[ A slow nod, and then a pleasant smile. ]

Yes, I think I will fire you.

[altusimperius]

Why?

[bouchonne]

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.

[altusimperius]

[The resentment begins to trickle into panic. Malicious?]

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.

[bouchonne]

[ Casually, with the air of continuing: ]

It could also just be common disrespect, I suppose. Regardless. [ Then: ] What don't you understand, dear fellow?

[altusimperius]

Disrespect?

[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?

[bouchonne]

Not stupid - so, malicious.

[altusimperius]

No.

[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.]

[bouchonne]

[ 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.

[altusimperius]

[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.]

[bouchonne]

[ By stares a moment, then lets out an incredulous breath. ]

Andraste's name, did you have no idea what you were doing? Did you think there would be no consequences?

[altusimperius]

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.

[bouchonne]

[ And By, misinterpreting - ]

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.

[altusimperius]

[Benedict looks back at him, like he's grown a second head.]

You're my superior. In Riftwatch.

[bouchonne]

[ Uh. Oh, right. That. ]

So your solution was to treat me like shit on your shoe? [ Then, with a burst of irritated breath - ] You're not fired.

[altusimperius]

[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.

He pushes his hair back out of his face.]

[bouchonne]

[ A shake of his head. ]

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?