[ While she's up and moving, Bastien goes back to the other side of his desk. But only to fetch his chair and bring it around to the front. It's a lesser absurdity than sitting behind it and talking across it, which is something he can barely stand even with people who aren't his superiors. ]
Good.
[ His follow-up questions—what does that mean? are you sure? have you discussed it?—are held back by one gripping fist made of trust in her professionalism and another made of sensitivity. ]
Is there anything else we should be aware of? About how they caught you or what they wanted.
[ They could have sat in the armchairs in her office, arranged before the hearth with the little table alongside in a carefully-constructed scene of informality. But she'd needed to move, the walk down to his floor, the distance from everything waiting in her suite. She regrets it a little now, sliding his wine glass along the edge of the desk and taking a sip of her own before arranging skirts with one neat gesture and sinking back into the chair. She hadn't counted on the immediacy of that faith in her, not unearned but still undeserved.
She shakes her head. ] No. [ There's a dry little laugh in her tone. ] It was nothing but dumb luck. They were passing through Drake's Landing on their way to take Hasmal. They recognized Flint and thought his presence meant we'd learned of their plans. We did our best to keep up that impression as long as possible.
[ Yseult's head tips, brows shifting. Let's hope, they say. A little horrifying to think that this might be them with dumb luck. She lets out a breath, straightens, and then eases back into a more casual posture, an elbow hooked over the chairback. ]
How were things, in our absence? Nothing seems to have burned. My files appear--mostly in order. No one sprang the trap in the desk. [ She smiles, like it might be a joke. (Of course it's not.) ]
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Good.
[ His follow-up questions—what does that mean? are you sure? have you discussed it?—are held back by one gripping fist made of trust in her professionalism and another made of sensitivity. ]
Is there anything else we should be aware of? About how they caught you or what they wanted.
no subject
She shakes her head. ] No. [ There's a dry little laugh in her tone. ] It was nothing but dumb luck. They were passing through Drake's Landing on their way to take Hasmal. They recognized Flint and thought his presence meant we'd learned of their plans. We did our best to keep up that impression as long as possible.
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Why don't we ever get the dumb luck?
[ They probably do. Sometimes. ]
no subject
How were things, in our absence? Nothing seems to have burned. My files appear--mostly in order. No one sprang the trap in the desk. [ She smiles, like it might be a joke. (Of course it's not.) ]