Is what Ellis says before putting his crystal in his pocket and descending to present himself at the doors. Whether or not he beats Bastien there is anyone's guess, surely.
Thanks to a detour on the upper floors, Ellis does beat him there. But the cause of that detour maybe makes the wait worth it: when Bastien emerges from the door, it’s with the Ambassador’s (their, lately, but more visibly Byerly’s) long-legged, droopy-faced, year-old hound at his heels. She breaks past him to bound down the stone walkway once they’re through the door, at least temporarily more interested in finding dirt and grass than in checking out Ellis.
“Sorry,” Bastien says—for the wait, however long it was—and then, “How are you?”
A direct answer is delayed momentarily by Ellis' observation of the hound. The impulse to whistle her over comes and goes. She is not, after all, his dog to call.
"I'm well," is an afterthought, because he is aware Bastien is likely to repeat the question if not provided with an answer. "You?"
The polite ??? sequence of statements. Or so Ellis has gleaned from Wysteria in the course of their acquaintance.
“No complaints,” Bastien says, ambling in Whiskey’s direction while she zigs and zags and sniffs ahead. Presumably Ellis joins him, and Bastien looks over at him with patient curiosity.
"Of course," Bastien says, without caveats. Ellis is a reasonable sort of person. He's probably not about to ask Bastien to poison someone. Especially not in front of the baby, who's turning back to run a floppy loop behind them.
When Ellis reaches for his collar, Bastien stops walking to watch. Whiskey, intrigued by the fact that they're no longer going, trots closer to nose his hand, then seems to notice Ellis is new for the first time and starts sniffing him from the toes up.
He has questions. But they can wait until he sees what it is Ellis is asking him to hold.
Bastien nods, fingers curling over the jewelry. He'll look at it again later, of course. Scrutinize the make. (It's small and delicate. A woman's? Whose?) But not with Ellis watching and waiting for him. He undoes a few buttons on his vest with one hand until he has space to slide the ring and its chain into a safe inner pocket.
"I'll keep it safe," he says.
He snaps his fingers at his side to get Whiskey's attention while he fastens the buttons back up, one-handed as well.
And the question is stalled, set aside as Ellis comes down to his haunches to whistle softly for Whiskey's attention.
There is a moment where Ellis considers the whole truth of the task he's taken on. And then he considers Bastien, and pares down the enormity of it to something far less weighted.
"I've an errand to the north," is not untrue, just lacking a fuller picture. "I've always able to travel unnoticed, but these are unsettled times."
So is an errand in the north. Bastien's curiosity is piqued, a creature lifting its head and sniffing the air, but he only reaches crossbody to pat Ellis on the broad shoulder with his dominant hand.
"This is why people find Wardens so attractive," he says. (Do people find Wardens so attractive? Surely some of them do, in between resenting and/or not seeing the point of them.) "All that mystery."
All this gravity—but perhaps the scale has to be adjusted, since it's Ellis, routinely grave. Perhaps he's going north to see about a horse.
Bastien doesn't really think he's going north to see about a horse.
But he smiles a little, like he's not worried, and resumes escorting the dog toward the nearest garden. "If it is unfair, I will be the first person to tell you so," he lies. "Go on."
Prompting Ellis to rise to fall in step with Bastien, as he encourages Whiskey along. It's a handsome dog. But that's something to discuss once all has been settled.
"I've an envelope I'd like you to hold for me. If I don't return, I'd ask you pass it on to the Provost and he'll manage the rest."
And this is a particular kind of motivation: to return so Bastien never need pass along the envelope, and Tony need never open it to find two letters with his name and Wysteria's written very carefully along the folded edge. It's unfair. Unfair to Bastien, unfair to Tony. But Ellis can think of no better way.
Nevermind how strange it is to have grown to trust an Orlesian this way.
The words are light and careless, even though he feels neither. He feels—something.
It isn't irritation, exactly, so much as a prickle of fear that manifests as petulance and the urge to say that yes, having heard the request, it is unfair, and he's opting out of any participation in this clearly foolish affair, and he would like to speak to Ellis' manager.
He is very good at not acting on urges. Instead he asks, "Don't return after how long?" And it doesn't sound anywhere close to irate by any normal measure, but for him, it's a tiny bit flat and a tiny bit clipped.
It prompts some quiet scrutiny, though what possibly could Ellis find? Even in the relatively short length of their acquaintance, he's found Bastien to be more or less impenetrable outside of a few, rare occasions.
"If I don't return before First Day," seems a fair estimate, which is then amended to, "If you've not heard from me before First Day."
A bid to account for travel time more than any other delay. It's followed briskly by, "You'll not open it, if I give it to you?"
Bastien takes a breath, watching Whiskey vanish around a corner. She knows the way. Keeping mysterious personal letters unopened for three months is asking a terrible lot of his willpower. Not so much he couldn't do it—again, good at not acting on urges—but it'll mean consenting to three months of an itch he isn't allowed to scratch. Maybe a lifetime of it, if Ellis doesn't come back and the unopened letters disappear into the Provost's custody.
"Do you know what I am?" he asks. It isn't rhetorical, not a no in the form of a question. Only curiosity as to how informed Ellis' willingness to take his word for it is.
It strikes Ellis as an odd question. Ellis, who has spent very little time considering anyone else's business, has only considered Bastien so far as to note that he's Orlesian and—
"A musician?" is not devoid of humor. Ellis has some sense that this is not the answer.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crystal.
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[ An airy voice, a heavier accent: his university student impression. He drops it and sounds like he's smiling instead. ]
I am, yes. Are you?
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Aye. Would you speak with me, in person? I will come to where you are, if it makes this easier.
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Of course. I’m in my office, but I could use an excuse to stretch my legs. Come meet me at the doors?
kneeslides towards action
Is what Ellis says before putting his crystal in his pocket and descending to present himself at the doors. Whether or not he beats Bastien there is anyone's guess, surely.
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“Sorry,” Bastien says—for the wait, however long it was—and then, “How are you?”
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"I'm well," is an afterthought, because he is aware Bastien is likely to repeat the question if not provided with an answer. "You?"
The polite ??? sequence of statements. Or so Ellis has gleaned from Wysteria in the course of their acquaintance.
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"I need to ask a favor of you," Ellis says, faintly apologetic. "One that I'd ask you kept to yourself."
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Instead, Ellis reaches his hands up to his collar. His fingers dip beneath the fabric, finding a delicate clasp and working it open as he speaks.
"I've an errand that will take me from the Gallows for a time, and there are some things that can't go with me."
The fastening comes loose.
"I'd appreciate it if you would hold one of these things for me, until I returned."
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He has questions. But they can wait until he sees what it is Ellis is asking him to hold.
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He looks up at Bastien, opposite hand beckoning. Hand out, please.
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"Why can't it go with you?"
Or into a drawer.
:)
And it might be lost, if he had to carry it with him to Weisshaupt. Ellis isn't sure what he will have to shed in the course of his time there.
"I promised someone I would safeguard it. I hope you would keep hold of it in my stead, until I come back to reclaim it."
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"I'll keep it safe," he says.
He snaps his fingers at his side to get Whiskey's attention while he fastens the buttons back up, one-handed as well.
"Where are you going?"
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And the question is stalled, set aside as Ellis comes down to his haunches to whistle softly for Whiskey's attention.
There is a moment where Ellis considers the whole truth of the task he's taken on. And then he considers Bastien, and pares down the enormity of it to something far less weighted.
"I've an errand to the north," is not untrue, just lacking a fuller picture. "I've always able to travel unnoticed, but these are unsettled times."
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So is an errand in the north. Bastien's curiosity is piqued, a creature lifting its head and sniffing the air, but he only reaches crossbody to pat Ellis on the broad shoulder with his dominant hand.
"This is why people find Wardens so attractive," he says. (Do people find Wardens so attractive? Surely some of them do, in between resenting and/or not seeing the point of them.) "All that mystery."
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Or does Ellis just assume that's the case, because he asks so few prying questions? (Observations about attractiveness go unacknowledged, as usual.)
But in the wake of that—
"There's something else. But it feels unfair to ask of you."
Or anyone else. But Bastien, for several reasons, is who Ellis has settled on for this particular task.
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Bastien doesn't really think he's going north to see about a horse.
But he smiles a little, like he's not worried, and resumes escorting the dog toward the nearest garden. "If it is unfair, I will be the first person to tell you so," he lies. "Go on."
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"I've an envelope I'd like you to hold for me. If I don't return, I'd ask you pass it on to the Provost and he'll manage the rest."
And this is a particular kind of motivation: to return so Bastien never need pass along the envelope, and Tony need never open it to find two letters with his name and Wysteria's written very carefully along the folded edge. It's unfair. Unfair to Bastien, unfair to Tony. But Ellis can think of no better way.
Nevermind how strange it is to have grown to trust an Orlesian this way.
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The words are light and careless, even though he feels neither. He feels—something.
It isn't irritation, exactly, so much as a prickle of fear that manifests as petulance and the urge to say that yes, having heard the request, it is unfair, and he's opting out of any participation in this clearly foolish affair, and he would like to speak to Ellis' manager.
He is very good at not acting on urges. Instead he asks, "Don't return after how long?" And it doesn't sound anywhere close to irate by any normal measure, but for him, it's a tiny bit flat and a tiny bit clipped.
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It prompts some quiet scrutiny, though what possibly could Ellis find? Even in the relatively short length of their acquaintance, he's found Bastien to be more or less impenetrable outside of a few, rare occasions.
"If I don't return before First Day," seems a fair estimate, which is then amended to, "If you've not heard from me before First Day."
A bid to account for travel time more than any other delay. It's followed briskly by, "You'll not open it, if I give it to you?"
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"Do you know what I am?" he asks. It isn't rhetorical, not a no in the form of a question. Only curiosity as to how informed Ellis' willingness to take his word for it is.
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"A musician?" is not devoid of humor. Ellis has some sense that this is not the answer.
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put a bow on this y/n