[A spare mug's come in advance of her. He pours her a drink to match his own from the bottle at hand, the tang of spiced wine briefly cloaking the table as a cloth.]
I prefer not to drink alone when it can be avoided in favor of decent company.
[ Nell takes the mug on offer and lifts it in a toast of thanks before taking a sip. She rolls the wine around in her mouth for a moment, heavy with spice and honey, especially compared with the cheap swill she's been drinking, somehow half a step from both grape juice and vinegar. ]
I see you've stuck around despite our esteemed guest.
To my mind, the matter of our guest and his household warrant more immediate attention than they're receiving currently. Better to encourage it here than from more distant vantage. Besides, [he takes a sip of his own drink] my original reason for being here is unchanged.
[Which is a problem, but one undeniably solved en route to the rest. He sets his mug down, hooks his elbow idly on the low railing beside the table, and looks to her.]
Have you been pushed forward for any other daring rescue missions yet?
[ Nell lifts her glass to that truism; it's why she's here herself, after all. She drinks as he speaks, then holds the cup between both hands, rolled back and forth between her palms.
She shakes her head. ]
No, the element of surprise isn't really my strong suit. That was a one-time thing I'll leave to the professional sneakers in Scouting. Any plans for how to encourage it, or which way? Most long-term prisoners end up at Skyhold.
I've been led to believe [by Amsel, by how quiet the matter has gone] that it's a matter for discussion among the Division Heads. Whatever conclusions they reach alongside Skyhold will no doubt be informed by any matter of variables I have no knowledge or control of.
[A pause. He doesn't smile, but there is some dark and sharpish humor forming in his squint, the line of his arm where it's set along the rail, the speculative tap of his finger at his cup's side.]
You sometimes assist Commander Coupe, don't you?
[No part of this is subtle and he clearly knows it.]
[There, that does make him grin - all crooked and wolfish and hidden behind the lip of his cup as he takes a drink of that heavy spiced wine.]
Absolutely nothing. At this point, I believe it might be best if our friend simply disappeared. Too much talk around the whole matter would eventually find its way to the wrong ear.
[Put him in at the bottom of a dark hole and forget about him entirely.]
Though I suspect that can only happen once he's been made entirely irrelevant. --How close would you say?
Skyhold's a lot like disappearing. From what I hear their dungeon is a ruin, cell floors all crumbled away over a thousand-foot drop off the mountain.
[ Isn't that a fun thought, the Archon shivering away in a corner over a freezing waterfall? ]
It depends. She keeps plenty of secrets, and I don't have the leverage right now to force my way into all of them, but I see everything else. If it was worth it to find out more I probably could. It's not as if any of them are fond of the him anyway, they're just afraid of making waves and think being cautious is the same as being smart.
I may have mentioned something similar to Bonaventura.
[They've drawn a middling-at-best hand of cards and chasing both high and low cards. The longer the Inquisition takes to make some concrete decisions, the less likely they are to have any realistic means of accomplishing what must be.]
Better to remove him from the question entirely, I think. At the end of the day, if the Inquisition's allies could be moved to first take some action before anything decision is made, I doubt anyone would hesitate. Over him or much of anything else.
[The ghost of that grin hasn't quite faded entirely; it lingers in the direct look he fixes Nell with now.]
[ Nell's head tips, one way and then the other in quick succession, stopping only so she can take a long, meditative drink, eyes narrowed into the middle distance over Flint's shoulder. Wine lubricates the brain, as everyone knows.
Finally, she shrugs. ]
Of course if they could be pushed to do what we like I don't know that I particularly care how or why, whether it comes from allies or from eliminating him as an option or anything else. But coming from outside might be best for us and the Inquisition, too, if it could be managed. You sound as if you have an idea in mind.
[Isn't it strange, how something simple said with such certainty can at once make something less like an idea and more like something obvious and already under way? And for a moment, Flint leaves it just there - a wary, calculated thing. As if he is somehow still gauging her even after what's already been said. He doesn't look past her; his attention is fixed, razor sharp, the ease in the line of his arm forgotten.
Then, apparently having made his decisions, he leans forward across the table by a degree.]
You joined the Inquisition out of Llomerryn, is that right?
[ Nell doesn't flinch under that scrutiny, and holds herself back from demanding to know what. Patience isn't her strong suit either, but she can bide her time when she must, even if the sense is palpable, of energy reined, kinetic, prickling up the back of her neck as she resists the urge to lean forward. Then he does, and her grin is quick and every bit as sharp as his attention. ]
Yes.
[ She could and will elaborate if needed but why delay getting to the plan. ]
Then you and I both know what work those people might be trusted with.
[There's risk in this. No, not just risk - deadly danger. Speaking any part of this aloud only makes it more likely to lead to some dark end. But that, he thinks, is the trouble. Waiting. Keeping still while the rest of the world tilts around them. He sees it here in the eager lines of her face as much as he had from Walrus' sterndeck while he'd watched the Galicia devoured by the sea without Radonis to keep her company.]
Which is a rare thing, I think - trust. So much of the world has a way of making any desire to change it into a something poisonous. But what I've put in motion requires more than what I can do myself, and I sense you and I are of a similar mind.
Our friend's value, if he has any, currently hinges entirely on decisions made in the North. I mean to take that decision from them by showing the world their true colors before they have the luxury to dictate the narrative. Able men and women, made to look a certain way and seen to be doing certain things, might encourage the Inquisition's allies to draw their own conclusions before someone else tells them how to think.
[ Nell's gaze narrows, the tilt of her head growing deeper as she listens. She pauses that way for a moment, thinking, head angled marginally more upright to avoid dribbling wine when she drinks. ]
That would certainly be valuable motivation. And save the Inquisition a lot of effort and bargaining. But I don't see that it completely solves the matter of our guest. There's still the question of whether the people there can be rallied to fight from within behind some leader we like better. We'd still need to supply a more attractive option than the one at hand, or risk them turning to him to try to force the enemy to fight on two fronts.
[Were he not leaned that half degree forward, it might be easy to miss the way Flint's expression twitches toward satisfaction in the smoky, irregular light of the tavern loft. It's evidence of some minuscule but constant process of recalculation, the fulfillment of some predetermined point followed by the immediate shift of his attention to whatever thing lays beyond it.]
And who or what would you recommend as this more attractive option?
[He has thoughts. But let's pretend for just a moment that he doesn't - that anything she says will serve to turn the direction of that adamant momentum.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[A spare mug's come in advance of her. He pours her a drink to match his own from the bottle at hand, the tang of spiced wine briefly cloaking the table as a cloth.]
I prefer not to drink alone when it can be avoided in favor of decent company.
no subject
I see you've stuck around despite our esteemed guest.
no subject
[Simple enough. Conversational, even.]
To my mind, the matter of our guest and his household warrant more immediate attention than they're receiving currently. Better to encourage it here than from more distant vantage. Besides, [he takes a sip of his own drink] my original reason for being here is unchanged.
[Which is a problem, but one undeniably solved en route to the rest. He sets his mug down, hooks his elbow idly on the low railing beside the table, and looks to her.]
Have you been pushed forward for any other daring rescue missions yet?
no subject
She shakes her head. ]
No, the element of surprise isn't really my strong suit. That was a one-time thing I'll leave to the professional sneakers in Scouting. Any plans for how to encourage it, or which way? Most long-term prisoners end up at Skyhold.
no subject
[A pause. He doesn't smile, but there is some dark and sharpish humor forming in his squint, the line of his arm where it's set along the rail, the speculative tap of his finger at his cup's side.]
You sometimes assist Commander Coupe, don't you?
[No part of this is subtle and he clearly knows it.]
no subject
Not sometimes. I'm her second in command. She subscribes to the notion that you should keep the people you trust least closest.
[ A grin, bright with teeth. ]
In an ideal world, what would you see become of our friend now?
no subject
Absolutely nothing. At this point, I believe it might be best if our friend simply disappeared. Too much talk around the whole matter would eventually find its way to the wrong ear.
[Put him in at the bottom of a dark hole and forget about him entirely.]
Though I suspect that can only happen once he's been made entirely irrelevant. --How close would you say?
no subject
[ Isn't that a fun thought, the Archon shivering away in a corner over a freezing waterfall? ]
It depends. She keeps plenty of secrets, and I don't have the leverage right now to force my way into all of them, but I see everything else. If it was worth it to find out more I probably could. It's not as if any of them are fond of the him anyway, they're just afraid of making waves and think being cautious is the same as being smart.
no subject
[They've drawn a middling-at-best hand of cards and chasing both high and low cards. The longer the Inquisition takes to make some concrete decisions, the less likely they are to have any realistic means of accomplishing what must be.]
Better to remove him from the question entirely, I think. At the end of the day, if the Inquisition's allies could be moved to first take some action before anything decision is made, I doubt anyone would hesitate. Over him or much of anything else.
[The ghost of that grin hasn't quite faded entirely; it lingers in the direct look he fixes Nell with now.]
Would that be worth it, do you think?
no subject
Finally, she shrugs. ]
Of course if they could be pushed to do what we like I don't know that I particularly care how or why, whether it comes from allies or from eliminating him as an option or anything else. But coming from outside might be best for us and the Inquisition, too, if it could be managed. You sound as if you have an idea in mind.
no subject
[Isn't it strange, how something simple said with such certainty can at once make something less like an idea and more like something obvious and already under way? And for a moment, Flint leaves it just there - a wary, calculated thing. As if he is somehow still gauging her even after what's already been said. He doesn't look past her; his attention is fixed, razor sharp, the ease in the line of his arm forgotten.
Then, apparently having made his decisions, he leans forward across the table by a degree.]
You joined the Inquisition out of Llomerryn, is that right?
[He's done his homework.]
no subject
Yes.
[ She could and will elaborate if needed but why delay getting to the plan. ]
no subject
[There's risk in this. No, not just risk - deadly danger. Speaking any part of this aloud only makes it more likely to lead to some dark end. But that, he thinks, is the trouble. Waiting. Keeping still while the rest of the world tilts around them. He sees it here in the eager lines of her face as much as he had from Walrus' sterndeck while he'd watched the Galicia devoured by the sea without Radonis to keep her company.]
Which is a rare thing, I think - trust. So much of the world has a way of making any desire to change it into a something poisonous. But what I've put in motion requires more than what I can do myself, and I sense you and I are of a similar mind.
Our friend's value, if he has any, currently hinges entirely on decisions made in the North. I mean to take that decision from them by showing the world their true colors before they have the luxury to dictate the narrative. Able men and women, made to look a certain way and seen to be doing certain things, might encourage the Inquisition's allies to draw their own conclusions before someone else tells them how to think.
no subject
That would certainly be valuable motivation. And save the Inquisition a lot of effort and bargaining. But I don't see that it completely solves the matter of our guest. There's still the question of whether the people there can be rallied to fight from within behind some leader we like better. We'd still need to supply a more attractive option than the one at hand, or risk them turning to him to try to force the enemy to fight on two fronts.
no subject
And who or what would you recommend as this more attractive option?
[He has thoughts. But let's pretend for just a moment that he doesn't - that anything she says will serve to turn the direction of that adamant momentum.]