[It's possible that there is a more official written record of the temporary reassignment waiting in Marcus' pigeonhole. But before he gets that far—
A chance crossing of paths along the sheltered margins of the Gallows' courtyard while the rain floods the paving past the stone eaves. Flint don't call out. But he does meet Marcus' eye as the man travels in the opposite direction, and then draws to an expectant halt.]
[ Marcus has set a brisk-ish pace, because if you don't, it might take forever to get anywhere, the Gallows' dimensions being what they are. On clocking Flint's approach, he prepares a polite nod, but doesn't get that far before noting the slowing. And stop.
[Someone might be tempted to leave this tag at that for the sake of comedy. But in an effort to hurry this shit along, note only the pause before we get to:]
Six members of the division are to be posted in Kirkwall, including yourself. I'd have you produce a name to play at Captain of the Guard in your absence.
[ Forthrightness does something to disassemble stiff-backed formality — a derisive breath out, attention spanning out to the courtyard. A redirect that spares Flint the edge of it, where the subject of it isn't present. ]
If the subject must be raised during her visit, I would prefer it not lead to your interrogation. Or Edgard's, [has the air of a dismissive handwave. Him too.]
[ There are a few seconds spend on some internal processing. That sparking sense of injustice.
Well, maybe it's only for a few days. ]
Edgard, [ he says, looking back to Flint. ] Who else?
[ Julius, Derrica? Bastien? Those all seem like the kinds of people who ought to be placed in front of a Chantry mother, but might claim ~involvement~ too. ]
[The point of Flint's attention goes briefly blunt; if Marcus' derision had glanced formlessly past the margins of this conversation, Flint's flicker of minor irritation belongs wholly to it.
[Flint's pause isn't a long one, only distinct—a blank look meant to underline that the answer, when it comes, is technically a charitable gesture.]
In addition to Edgard and yourself, the rifter Astarion and Kostos Averesch. Baudin, Keen, Mobius, Matthias, [and in the spirit of not doing Rowntree the discourtesy of testing whether he can do sums on the fly,] Me.
[ Marcus, waiting for that answer, does so with the expectation it is deserved, expression open and sharply interested as that muddle of names come. There, a fine tic of tension at his jaw at the news of Keen, a sharpness that settles into mention of Mobius.
Predictably.
Processes that for a few moments before he says, ]
[ A subtle twinge of irritation for the trace acid detected in Flint's tone, but Marcus is quiet, considering, opting to interpret an offer to ask more questions at face value.
[It is petty, he knows, to find any amount of satisfaction in picking at Rowntree's veneer; it's not as if it's difficult to get a fingernail in under it. That said, the minor twist of annoyance that ripples over the surface serves as a welcome spur on. Blunts some edge.]
Will be acting as my runner between here and there for the duration of the posting, [is honest, and nominally where he might cut the answer short.] The aim being to see him occupied without rousing his suspicion or anyone else's.
[A pointed look.]
I would appreciate it were you to keep these details to yourself.
[ There is a clear process occurring, a weighing up of the things Flint is saying in order to best determine how he feels about it. But something about Redvers being made to play courier, for the sake of itself, seems to lower a hackle.
Tomorrow. In parts and pieces. You'll have written orders waiting for you, but I gather the place we're to be posted requires some degree of outfitting to render it habitable.
[Trust that there will be things ferried over to Kirkwall that they will all need to see delivered to the de Foncé house at unobtrusive intervals.]
I've little interest in playing politics while the Chantry's woman is here. I think we all agree that it would be best to see our business here protected so it may continue undisturbed once she has gone.
[The hard clatter of the rain in the courtyard doesn't quite mute Flint's low noise of assent.]
See to the necessary arrangements with Adjei, would you, [he says after a moment.] Should he require any immediate assistance while we're away, he should feel free to make demands of Rutyer. I suspect Diplomacy owes us all a favor or two.
[ Some of the tension that had wound up once this business was made plain sort of resolves back into something more business-like. He nods to this request, and then
a slight crack in professionalism in the form of a cynical exhale at the summoning of Rutyer's name. Yeah, sure. But what he says is, ]
[Is there some trace sentiment of 'You're fucking telling me' that surfaces in answer to that huff of air? Somewhere in the upward flex of eyebrows or the line of Flint's mouth behind red whiskers, maybe.]
Captain.
[With some jangle of hardware made more or less inaudible by the sheeting rain, Flint moves past him on his original track. Presumably there is a short list of further disasters elsewhere in the Gallows which requires averting before they decamp from the island.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spa(m)action;
A chance crossing of paths along the sheltered margins of the Gallows' courtyard while the rain floods the paving past the stone eaves. Flint don't call out. But he does meet Marcus' eye as the man travels in the opposite direction, and then draws to an expectant halt.]
spamtion;
He draws to one too. ]
Commander.
no subject
[Someone might be tempted to leave this tag at that for the sake of comedy. But in an effort to hurry this shit along, note only the pause before we get to:]
Six members of the division are to be posted in Kirkwall, including yourself. I'd have you produce a name to play at Captain of the Guard in your absence.
no subject
Some amount of arithmetic, slow and subtle, and not for temporary replacement for his role. ]
Why the posting?
no subject
Beyond your involvement in the recent killing of a Templar, you mean?
no subject
My involvement, [ echoed. ]
no subject
no subject
Well, maybe it's only for a few days. ]
Edgard, [ he says, looking back to Flint. ] Who else?
[ Julius, Derrica? Bastien? Those all seem like the kinds of people who ought to be placed in front of a Chantry mother, but might claim ~involvement~ too. ]
no subject
Marcus hasn't named a substitute yet.]
From that particular excursion, or generally?
no subject
Who else is being removed to Kirkwall?
no subject
In addition to Edgard and yourself, the rifter Astarion and Kostos Averesch. Baudin, Keen, Mobius, Matthias, [and in the spirit of not doing Rowntree the discourtesy of testing whether he can do sums on the fly,] Me.
no subject
Predictably.
Processes that for a few moments before he says, ]
Jude Adjei. He can take Captain for the while.
no subject
[See, that wasn't so difficult.]
Any other questions? [has some slant of caustic wit to buried under it. Speaking of interrogations—]
no subject
After a moment: ]
Keen?
no subject
Will be acting as my runner between here and there for the duration of the posting, [is honest, and nominally where he might cut the answer short.] The aim being to see him occupied without rousing his suspicion or anyone else's.
[A pointed look.]
I would appreciate it were you to keep these details to yourself.
no subject
He nods; affirmative. ]
When do we depart?
no subject
[Trust that there will be things ferried over to Kirkwall that they will all need to see delivered to the de Foncé house at unobtrusive intervals.]
I've little interest in playing politics while the Chantry's woman is here. I think we all agree that it would be best to see our business here protected so it may continue undisturbed once she has gone.
no subject
Any agent they willingly put into our hands isn't anyone worth influencing.
[ They are agreed, then. ]
no subject
See to the necessary arrangements with Adjei, would you, [he says after a moment.] Should he require any immediate assistance while we're away, he should feel free to make demands of Rutyer. I suspect Diplomacy owes us all a favor or two.
[For reasons.]
no subject
a slight crack in professionalism in the form of a cynical exhale at the summoning of Rutyer's name. Yeah, sure. But what he says is, ]
Aye, Commander.
[ And steps aside to let Flint pass first. ]
gold star we did it
Captain.
[With some jangle of hardware made more or less inaudible by the sheeting rain, Flint moves past him on his original track. Presumably there is a short list of further disasters elsewhere in the Gallows which requires averting before they decamp from the island.]