( OPEN )

[excipio]

WHO: Caspar & Misc (YOU???)
WHAT: Just chillin
WHEN: Solace whenever
WHERE: Gallows, Kirkwall, wherever
NOTES: This is a catch-all post for personalized starters and tag-ins. I'll probably add some open starters later this month, but hmu on plurk or DM me if you want to plan something specific!

Comments

[excipio]

He's your brother. Have you not asked him?

[ Ask a stupid question. It's returned plainly, eye contact a bit too direct to make it anything other than pointed; he knows that the two of them don't talk, or that even if they do, they hardly communicate. He's got no intention of ferrying messages or grudges between the two of them.

Well, he's got no intention of bringing Kostos' grudges to Nikos. He doesn't actually have a problem with bringing Nikos' to Kostos, outside of perhaps getting yelled at by Nikos for meddling.

Caspar hands off the papers after a measured beat, taking a moment to consider Kostos and his glare and his hostility. He understands, on some level. He knows how the story appears from certain angles; particularly angles that do not give Nikos enough credit. ]

Will this be a problem? Professionally.

[ Important qualifier. ]

[exequy]

No.

[ That might be more convincing if he ungrit his teeth slightly more to say it. If, overall, he sounded less like a man parroting what he was required to say while plotting mutiny beneath it. Despite all of that, though, he does mean it. He works with Templars, with Orlesians, with mages who are now enjoying freedom they didn't bother helping the rest fight for. And he's only ever hit one of them in the head with a well-aimed sweet roll.

The gritting of his teeth comes more from the first question, and from several possible answers, all barely stoppered in his throat: he hasn't asked Nikos so directly, brothers means nothing and he barely knows him, he had thought Perakis' absence warranted giving Nikos the benefit of the doubt.

But after that syllable and a breath, he unsticks his jaw. ]

Not until you give me a reason for it to be.

[ Please. He'd sort of like one. ]

[excipio]

Then it will not be a problem.

[ Not a guarantee, of course, but he's got no current plans to rock that particular boat. He has very little plans at all, where Kostos is concerned; he might have been fine with never meeting him. There are no problems here that he can fix, and it's frankly none of his business until Nikos says it is.

Which he has not. He's done the opposite, very enthusiastically. Caspar smiles slightly, mostly polite and only barely amused, and then ducks his head in a casual bow. ]

But I already owe you an apology— I've interrupted your errands. I'll leave you to it.

[exequy]

[ Errands, in Kostos' current bristled state, only doesn't bristle him further because he's hit his bristle limit.

Instead it will sustain for a few extra minutes, after Caspar leaves, his present bristle level—a level that means he doesn't play at niceties even to his already-limited standard extent, doesn't offer a grudging thank you or a pointed please to the man's apology and impending departure. He only glares at him. (He has more things in common with Nikos than either of them would like, probably, and one of them is a disinclination to play along with anything for the sake of making people comfortable.)

Errands.

Fuck him. ]