[ As luck would have it, they live on the same floor, and it requires barely any reconnaissance work at all for Bastien to catch up to Loxley in the corridor and fall into step with him one morning. ]
Monsieur. Do you mind if I walk with you?
[ He sounds friendly—he is friendly—but there is a small warning sign, in the form of a sheet of notes and a pen held together in one of his hands. ]
[ There's no elaborate double take to ensure he is the one being addressed, but it is surprising nonetheless. Loxley, dressed for the day and already on an enthusiastic trajectory that's likely to wing by the kitchens before it hits the docks, only slows for the time it takes him to gesture welcomingly-- ]
Ah, no, there is a toll for the staircase. They have just been lax in collecting it lately.
[ And that's the extent of pleasantries before he starts to feel disingenuous. Or before he starts to feel like he might be giving someone a reason to feel like he was being disingenuous, in the aftermath. ]
I liaise with the Viscount's office now, you know, so someone can tell us if we are causing a problem, and we can say we are very sorry while in all likelihood continuing to do whatever we are doing. But they have passed along some concerns. I wanted to talk with you about it before...
[ A gesture up and vaguely in the direction of the central tower, where authority, such as it is, resides. ]
[ Loxley side-along glances at the papers in Bastien's hand, likely not as subtly as he'd like. More curious than anything else, gestures towards the pillar of Riftwatch authority or no. ]
Good of you, [ he says, a little flippant if still genuine, smile half-cocked. ] I take it you're not seeking my advice on some matter unrelated to me.
[ Good joke. He hasn't exactly been an authoritative presence in their shared division. ]
Perhaps it is! But we only have so many individuals who could be described as Qunari— [ to paraphrase ] —rifters.
[ He glances at his notes. He doesn’t really need them. He has a good memory for this sort of thing. But the Viscount’s office likes it when he takes notes. Makes them feel important and listened to. ]
And someone matching that description broke into someone’s home, recently, they said. Stanley Poole, the butcher—are you familiar?
Swanning swift through the halls of the Gallows has slowed down, Loxley folding his hands behind him. All at once he wishes he'd have run this scenario by Richard, gotten his advice--
--but he's gotten this far in life without doing that, so. ]
'Broke into'? [ A little incredulous. And then; ] I suppose that's a way of putting it. I'm better acquainted with the man's daughter. He beats her, you see.
[ There are a few ways to append to that sentence starter, and Loxley muses over a few before settling; ]
Only trying to help, [ rather than being overly coy. He speaks a little with his hands as they go, making the effort to explain. ] The man keeps his homestead about as locked down as a prison, and I'd offered only to open a door for her to make an escape through. A quiet exit in the early morning hours didn't go as smoothly as we'd both hoped, and so.
She is fine, and rest assured, Poole's locks are still in working order. His windows intact. His dignity, perhaps, a little bruised.
I don't know that name. I mean, I don't take down details of anyone I might scrap with, but look--
[ He pauses, as if to judge how to explain. Or how to phrase his explanations. ]
The only people I might cross are people who deserve crossing. I'd wager that whoever's harassing the Viscount's office with this nonsense deserved it as well. Did they leave a name?
No. It was anonymous. Or the Viscount's office says it is. Maybe that is to prevent us from seeking revenge.
[ That's a joke. ]
But it came to me all as one complaint from one person, which does seem odd, doesn't it? Unless these people all got together to discuss their problems. Perhaps they drink together.
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charmoffensive) wrote2019-10-19 02:48 pm
action.
Monsieur. Do you mind if I walk with you?
[ He sounds friendly—he is friendly—but there is a small warning sign, in the form of a sheet of notes and a pen held together in one of his hands. ]
no subject
It's a free corridor.
[ Maybe Bastien is after his autograph. ]
As is the staircase upcoming, I think.
no subject
[ And that's the extent of pleasantries before he starts to feel disingenuous. Or before he starts to feel like he might be giving someone a reason to feel like he was being disingenuous, in the aftermath. ]
I liaise with the Viscount's office now, you know, so someone can tell us if we are causing a problem, and we can say we are very sorry while in all likelihood continuing to do whatever we are doing. But they have passed along some concerns. I wanted to talk with you about it before...
[ A gesture up and vaguely in the direction of the central tower, where authority, such as it is, resides. ]
no subject
Good of you, [ he says, a little flippant if still genuine, smile half-cocked. ] I take it you're not seeking my advice on some matter unrelated to me.
[ Good joke. He hasn't exactly been an authoritative presence in their shared division. ]
no subject
[ He glances at his notes. He doesn’t really need them. He has a good memory for this sort of thing. But the Viscount’s office likes it when he takes notes. Makes them feel important and listened to. ]
And someone matching that description broke into someone’s home, recently, they said. Stanley Poole, the butcher—are you familiar?
no subject
[ Helpful.
Swanning swift through the halls of the Gallows has slowed down, Loxley folding his hands behind him. All at once he wishes he'd have run this scenario by Richard, gotten his advice--
--but he's gotten this far in life without doing that, so. ]
'Broke into'? [ A little incredulous. And then; ] I suppose that's a way of putting it. I'm better acquainted with the man's daughter. He beats her, you see.
no subject
[ He glances at the notes again, as if perhaps they might have included beats daughter. Of course they don't. ]
And you were...?
[ Time for ad libs. ]
no subject
Only trying to help, [ rather than being overly coy. He speaks a little with his hands as they go, making the effort to explain. ] The man keeps his homestead about as locked down as a prison, and I'd offered only to open a door for her to make an escape through. A quiet exit in the early morning hours didn't go as smoothly as we'd both hoped, and so.
She is fine, and rest assured, Poole's locks are still in working order. His windows intact. His dignity, perhaps, a little bruised.
no subject
[ Can he take Loxley's word for it? Perhaps, perhaps not. But it is at least something better to report than burglary, for that one item on the list.
At the first stairs, before he moves on— ]
By fine, do you mean she is out of the house now?
no subject
[ He seems to relax a little when Bastien asks that question. That he cares to seems like a good sign. ]
Will that clear it up, or is it so dire you require her-- I don't know, testimony?
no subject
[ A bit of a questioning lilt to that, but not so questioning he pauses before he moves on to point two: ]
Did you get into a fight with a young man in Lowtown? Ah—Hansen?
no subject
[ He pauses, as if to judge how to explain. Or how to phrase his explanations. ]
The only people I might cross are people who deserve crossing. I'd wager that whoever's harassing the Viscount's office with this nonsense deserved it as well. Did they leave a name?
no subject
[ That's a joke. ]
But it came to me all as one complaint from one person, which does seem odd, doesn't it? Unless these people all got together to discuss their problems. Perhaps they drink together.
no subject
[ Bastien has his papers, and Loxley ought to let him go through them. Instead, he asks-- ]
Do you spend much time in Darktown, serah? Or the, hmm, knifier ends of Lowtown.
[ ('Serah'. He's rather fond of that localism.) ]
no subject
[ The papers wait very patiently. ]