faderift | [Open] Nothing exciting happens here.

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[Open] Nothing exciting happens here.

WHO: James Norrington and anyone who cannot stand watching him doing boring things.
WHAT: James. Doing really boring things.
WHEN: First week of Justinian
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Boring

There are few things more boring than watching paint dry. James Norrington happens to be doing one of them, and it is called 'doing inventory'. No, he is not moving around, counting things, making sure all weapons and armor are accounted for. He is sitting at his new make-shift desk, painstakingly writing out numbers, and compiling costs on a separate ledger. The day is warm, Interceptor is asleep by his side, and James is just slowly, and methodically, putting in amounts of equipment and calculating cost. One line at a time. Minutes crawl past and he ... stretches, then goes back to work.

It is mind-numblingly boring to watch him.

Quill scratching on parchment. Parchment shifting. Man intent on his figures. Nothing more. No dragon attacks. No sudden exclamations of protest or fireballs or anything. Just ... accounting. Every day, normal accounting.

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He glanced sideways at her, before snorting slightly as he shifted his legs back and forth, to get feeling back into them. Causing him to do an odd little shuffle, but it was better than falling on his face.

Now both of his eyebrows rose up together, "... Well that's just improper behavior for anyone. Who goes around grabbing people's ... fronts, anyways?"

If she's bothered by the pace he's setting with his weird shuffle, it doesn't show on her face. Instead she smirks a little at his question, dipping her head to the side.

"Oh, dirty old men whose wives likely haven't touched them since the Exalted Age," she replies, rolling her shoulders back and clasping her hands behind her back in a seemingly casual motion. "Though there are also younger men who are more deliberate with their groping. You went to Halamshiral, no? You must have seen some of that."

He is starting to walk a little more normally now, just stiffly. He hums as he shifts his leg to the side, cracking his back a little more. Another look passed over his face, a dark cloud forming.

"Yes. I did." He might have had some words with a few fellows whose partners did not seem thrilled at the handsy attitude of some of their partners. Some women as well. "I cannot for the life of me understand how there are not MORE duels in Orlais."

"Oh we have extensive rules about duels, it's really not worth the effort," she replies lightly, glancing over at him and smiling briefly.

"Then of course, some enjoy a little public groping. Le risque est le frisson. It can be very arousing when used in the right setting. With the right partner."

"Yes, of course you do." He sighed in mock aggravation, before he added for good measure, "Orlesians. Can't just fight a proper duel like everyone else."

Now ... she has his more focused attention. Or at least, curiosity. "Have you ... ah, you know. Encouraged a young man - or woman - to such. A partnership?"

"I don't disagree that dueling would be simpler, but most Orlesians enjoy sparring with words more than swords," she is a soldier, and though she has experience with The Game, she doesn't entirely have the patience.

His question draws a smile from her and she glances at him sidelong, dipping her head a little.

"Perhaps I have. Why, are you interested?" She's teasing, but also flirting. There are some aspects of the Game she excels at.

"Yes of course they do. Why not just keep the Game going? Forever, because we're just that bored." James sighed again, before he jerked his head at her.

"Ahhhhhh." He cleared his throat, looking straight ahead of him, "There's no way to answer that as a gentleman."

Geneviève lets out a laugh at his response, short and light though entirely genuine.

"I would think a gentleman would try not to broach the subject in the first place. You set yourself up for that."

He smirked at that, before he let out a laugh himself.

"I hardly knew I was going to get trapped into impropriety."

"I've never been much of a lady, I'm afraid," she replies by some way of explanation. Perhaps if she were one of her sisters, she would never have brought up the topic of handsy gentlemen. Though with the exception of perhaps her twin, none of her sisters would ever be caught walking alone in a hallway with a handsome man without an escort.

"Some might say that's why I became a Chevalier. Less rules about propriety." Though that definitely wasn't the case.

"Well, as I have often told other ladies in my acquaintance, being a lady is more than just having fine manners and wearing pretty dresses. It's a nobility of spirit, more than of birth." James responded calmly, an answer he had given many times. An answer he meant.

"Mhm. I thought you became a Chevalier because you were such an excellent bladeswoman." He gave her the faintest of smirks. "However lack of propriety does open up a few more avenues I suppose."

"A fine way to look at it, though I doubt most Orlesian nobility would appreciate it," Geneviève's smile softens all the same, her hands absently smoothing over her skirt. She lets out a huff of a laugh at his next comment.

"Oh I became an excellent bladeswoman because of my training, surely. However, I became a Chevalier because I had no desire to be a kept woman or to marry myself to the Maker. No offense." Not that she knows what James's situation is, and she knows there are Templars who are less-than-pious. Still, easier to cover that base if it's there.

"My dear Dame De La Fontaine - my respect and admiration for you knows no bounds -- but I don't care a fig about the rest of the 'Orlesian Nobility'." James stated dryly, folding his hands behind him as his walk relaxed finally and he was able to stand up straighter.

"I have a feeling you have always been an excellent bladeswoman, Dame Genevieve, no matter the cause." An elegant shrug of his shoulders, "No offense taken. I have not married the Maker or Andraste myself, but I respect those who have."

"Spoken like one not from Orlais," she replies, though she doesn't seem horribly put out. She doesn't like many Orlesian nobles either, though as a Chevalier it is still her duty to protect them.

Looking more for the topic shift she smiles at his comment about her ability, before letting out a quiet chuckle. "Thank the Maker for that, I understand the devotion required for such a thing, but it would be such a waste of a handsome templar."

"And glad of it." He stated with a faint smirk, but the easy expression on his face said he wasn't really here to throw down sass upon Orlais today. He was in a more expansive mood, as of late.

He glanced over at her, and his ears turn faintly pink. "Well. Thank you. I think? Even if you are just teasing me."

She looks over at him and can't suppress the smile as she notices how flustered he is.

"I assure you I am being entirely serious. Are you not accustomed to being complimented, Knight Commander Norrington?" A shame, really. People could be far too reserved about when they saw and appreciated attractiveness.

He glances over at her and rubs the back of his neck. "Not ... so directly, no. Usually in a more - ah - low-key sort of way."

People have called him handsome in dark corners or on walks alone. They just happened to be walking through the busy part of the Gallows. It was an interesting and embarrassing experience. "I find you lovely in turn."

This was so, so direct. He was absolutely flushed about the ears now.

She is certainly more accustomed to men who are forward, which really makes James's getting flustered all the more endearing. She grins as he compliments her, dipping her head.

"Oh, I know. Thank you for saying it, however." Shifting her gait somewhat she leans closer to him, looking at him at an angle as she tilts her head. "I am generally a very direct person, however if I'm making you uncomfortable, I can be more... low-key." Even if she thinks it's a disservice.

He rubs the back of his head, clearing his throat again. One corner of his mouth crooking up into a sly sort of smile, as he looked over at her. "Dame Genevieve, I would not even consider asking. Please, do continue to be as direct as you may please."

He snorted softly. "Just .. don't be surprised if it takes me a few moments to find my head again. Flattery just ... turns my head." He put one hand to his forehead semi-dramatically. "I may swoon."

Geneviève laughs, shaking her head.

"Well I swear on my honor as a chevalier I will catch you if it comes to that." Smaller than him though she may be, she certainly could. She'd carried injured soldiers to safety before.

"If I am to be direct, you may call me Evie. Proud as I am of my title, it's not required, and most of my friends use my surnom."

He smiles in turn, before a laugh rumbles out of him.

"Well, make sure you do not bounce me off the wall when you catch me." He has a fair amount of faith in her that she would in fact, haul him over her shoulder of need be.

"...Evie. Very well. Please, call me James."

"I would handle you with the utmost care, I promise," she smiles, dipping her head briefly. There's plenty of teasing there.

"James, then. It's a little less cumbersome to flirt without titles, don't you agree?" Not that she wasn't capable, it was just a dance she found exhausting more often than not, and involved a lot of posturing. Extravagant courtships where made of the stuff, and one of her older sisters still refers to her husband as "the Marquis." If Geneviève can't get past someone's titles, she'd rather not know them.

"Well thank the Maker for that. I thought you would toss me about like a rag doll." Stated with the best straight face that James has.

A straight face that cracks around the corners, green eyes bright. "Oh, I could not agree more, Evie. It does rather make it sound like we're play acting otherwise."

"I only toss people around like dolls if asked nicely," she replies, the picture of sweetness.

She exhales, nodding her head and her smile is a little more genuine, her hands clasping behind her back again as she glances down at her shoes and back to him.

"So much of Orlais is play acting, it's refreshing to meet people who do not feel the desire to keep up such pretenses."

"I shall be certain to ask nicely then." Completely bland expression, with that hint of a smirk on his lips.

He looks over at her, his mouth curving up into a real smile.

"You shall get none of that from me, that I can assure you." Honestly he had found that he would not, could not, disassemble any more in such flirtations. Honesty was the only way he knew how to go.

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