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My respect to a - hm, careful there - [ He warns as he's jostled against the side of the boat. ] My respect to a young lady who knows the appropriate garb for every occasion.

[ He comes up over the side of the boat and sprawls, sopping and rumpled, on the floor of the boat. Then he rolls over to beam up at her from down below - his face dangerously close to looking up her skirts. ]

You've saved my life.

[She draws her feet very close in under the bench seat and arranges her skirts with a deft twitch to avoid the puddle he's creating in the bottom of the boat.]

My, however will you repay me?

[Said with all the enthusiasm of wringing out a wet sock. Subtly, mind you. She'd hate to seem rude.]

Oh, though-- Pardon me, but hold still just a moment. [She reaches down and plucks a long string of something aquatic out of his hair. It's flicked over the side with some difficulty.] There. Now you look much more respectable.

[Ha ha ha.]

Savior of both life and dignity. You're a proper hero, Mademoiselle...?

[ He cocks an inquiring eyebrow. And makes no move to rise from his position flat on his back. ]

Miss Poppell is completely adequate, Messere...?

[Cue a quirked eyebrow, clearly marked Return To Sender.]

Rutyer. Byerly Rutyer of Ferelden. Whence do you hail?

From much farther than you, as it just so happens.

[She waggles the fingers of her right hand to emphasize the point. If he can't put two and two together from there when she's headed away from the Gallows and so many of the Rifters seem to have chunks of strange magic stuck in their hands-- that's hardly a strike against her.]

Tell me Messere Rutyer of Ferelden, is swimming a very popular past time where you're from? I've heard the part about dogs of course, but I'll admit your paddling doesn't much resemble one at all. The insistence on lying at the bottom of a perfectly good boat however--.

[Well.]

Woof.

[ He makes faux paws, and paddles at the air. ]

Were you impressed, then? By the quality of my swimming? I am quite fetching, aren't I. What do you think of my musculature?

You have avoided the question entirely, for the record. But as it just so happens, I have a cousin very much like a younger younger brother who does the exact same. So it warms a homesick heart just a little.

[Before he can go directly past the part where she's related him to sibling and on to the question of how else she might be warmed - Men, she finds, are very good at closing and opening the ears the absolute instant it works to their advantage -, she continues:]

Do you have a change of clothes in Kirkwall, or do you plan to spend the whole day in wet boots and naked from the waist up? I'll admit that the weather is fine for it and looking like you've already been robbed is a handy way to avoid pickpockets, but it does seem like a very extreme strategy. Consider instead a cord to tie your purse firmly at your belt. Or carrying your money in your shoe.

[Not that she's noticed anything at all about him below the chin. The face with its self-satisfied look is plenty, thank you.]

It's astonishing, what you can accomplish when naked from the waist up. All you need is a bit of charm.

[ He winks at her. Then he stretches his arms and then puts his hands behind his head, crossing his legs at the knee. ]

But what if I were helpless, Mademoiselle Poppell? Would you care for me?

[It's a real shame that he talks fast enough to keep her from expressing her very sincere concern - 'A little charm? But oh, Messere Rutyer, wherever does that leave you?' -, but she thinks it and that's nearly as satisfying.]

Unfortunately, no. Oh, I'd see you delivered somewhere safely of course, but I'm afraid I have a long list of things to accomplish today and tending to the likes of you isn't on it. Regretfully. You understand.

[ you saucy brat ]

What do you have to do, Mademoiselle?

[Yes, well.

She makes a small humming noise. It's undeniably skeptical; paired with the way she squints at him, it's clear she's deliberating exactly how much she cares to share with the sort of gentleman who requires fishing out of the harbor.

But, truth be told with it being the first time she's been permitted to leave the Gallows, her excitement gets the better of her. And besides, he really does remind her just enough of Ashley that soggy mustache or no, Wysteria finds herself answering honestly:]

'Have' to is a strong word, but I would like to see as much of High and Lowtown as I'm able. I'd like a second pair of shoes that fit me better - the heel on these is very worn, see? [She turns one foot out from under the edge of her skirts and the sole is indeed growing thin.] I'd also enjoy a look at the site where the Kirkwall Chantry was and poke my nose around the Viscount's Keep if I'm able. I hear the first floor is kept open to some of the public. And then of course there are the roads from the city, but I'm not dressed for riding and have no horse and wouldn't care to walk alone for what I'm sure are obvious reasons. But, I think I'll check with the Inquisition stables anyway and see if I can't make any friends there so maybe tomorrow or the day after I can convince someone to lend me the use of one.

[She doesn't quite say it all in one breath, but the effect is similar.]

And yourself, Mister-- pardon me, Messere Rutyer? What has you so eager to leave the Gallows this afternoon? The general air of the place not withstanding.

Edited 2018-09-16 04:32 (UTC)

[ Byerly smiles beatifically up at her and says - ]

I was desperate to be your tour guide.

[The lines of her face pinch comically. A split second later, Wysteria has made a valiant effort of smoothing them.]

Do you know much about Kirkwall? What would you say is its most significant landmark? Or your favorite place in it? I don't mean to sound ungrateful or that I'm doubting your expertise, Mister Rutyer. Only that I've very recently saved your life and your dignity and I'm sure you can see how that could inspire a reservation or two, wouldn't you agree?

[This she directs not to him, but to the stranger near at hand who had hauled Byerly into the ferry. The man huffs out a laugh, grumbling something like agreement. Wysteria nods curtly.]

He thinks so too. Anyway, I'm not sure mermen are especially suited to the task of walking around on land all day. What will your fish friends do without you?

Precisely what everyone does when I'm not in the room: they'll talk about me.

[ He puts his hands against his neck in an imitation of gills and flaps them as he burbles: ]

Where's Byerly? Have you seen Byerly? Say, that Byerly, where is he?

[ He drops his hands. He grins. ]

And I shall not show you my favorite place, or my second-favorite place, but I will show you my third-favorite. How's that?

[She fixes him with an especially narrowed look. In her six months as an apprentice in Somerset, she had done all manner of things that would have horrified her poor mother and scandalized the entirety of the Wycomb, but it's fair to say that none came at all close to what he's offering now even at its most kindhearted potentially. And she guesses, officially, that the reality is significantly less gentlemanly than even that.

There's a question in all of this which she might later ask herself - where she never cared much about what someone told her she could or couldn't do at home, so why is she now so stubbornly attached to any of it now that absolutely no one seems to care -, but for the moment it doesn't occur to her.

So let her at least be extremely conditional about this.]

Very well, Messere Rutyer. I accept your hospitality on three conditions. One, that you tell me where this third favorite place is before we go there. Two, that you accompany me to at least two places that I'd like to see before. And three, but very importantly, that you find something to wear. Charming as you are, I think I prefer to keep a low profile today. If you're as popular as you say you are, that will be hard even with you properly dressed but let's at least tip the scales slightly in our favor, shall we?

[She offers out her hand, very matter of fact.]

[ And Byerly makes a great show of thinking that over. ]

You know, Mademoiselle, normally young ladies offer payment to their guides. They do not demand payment of them. I presume that in accordance with these conditions you're laying into place, you will be giving me something of value in return, no?

[ With a curled half-smile - ]

After all, there's nothing improper about hiring a fellow to escort you about. But giving him your arm free of charge - well. That implies something else altogether.

[She colors. She scoffs. She re-arranges her skirts in the bottom of the boat where he has dripped enough to catch her hem. She eventually recovers into condescension:]

Seeing as I've recently saved both your life and your dignity, I would have thought the matter of payment preemptively settled. But you're right of course that I'd never accept your offer otherwise, even conditionally. Though I understand a man of your abundant charms must have plenty to do this afternoon. If you'd rather pay off your debt to me in some other way, I'm sure that can be arranged. Do you have any skills other than swimming? [And self-satisfaction.] With a bow, maybe. I've been watching archers practice in the yard and learning seems very approachable.

[ Cheerily: ]

I'm a dreadful combatant, dear heart. And - sorry, what's this about me owing you a debt? I never agreed to those terms.

[Of course he is. How utterly useless.]

I believe the terms were implied by the situation.

[She sets her jaw, an unconscious and utterly transparent obstinance.]

And I believe differently. Ah, I suppose this is the trouble caused by you being from beyond the Fade, isn't it...Don't even understand contract law. But - I shall compromise, as I am magnanimous. I shall require only a small payment for my services. And I'll throw in something a little bit nice for you in return.

[Contract law. As if there is anything to it but decency and good behavior. As if she hasn't been the absolute picture of good grace and hospitable to him, ridiculous as he is. Honestly! She can feel the color rising up the back of her neck again now, irritation warm. But she lifts her chin, resuming the task of pinning back the misaligned piece of her hair with a decisive pin thrust.

She is very determined to be all sweetness to him now, absolutely revoltingly so if necessary. The better with which to shield her embarrassment utterly.

Or poorly. Whatever. She's not the one dripping at the bottom of a boat, so who really has the upper hand?, she thinks viciously.]

In that case, I'm afraid I really must refuse your services after all. That's the trouble with being beyond the Fade, you see. One must be very strict about their purse strings and I simply can't afford you.

Purse strings?

[ He blinks up at her, the image of innocent puzzlement. ]

Who said anything about monetary payment?

[Wysteria denies herself the pleasure of stepping accidentally on some inconsequential part of him. She smiles at him brightly.]

Forgive me, that's usually how payments are made beyond the Fade. Did you have something else in mind?

I do.

[ He lowers his long, long eyelashes, and lets his dark eyes meet hers, and he purrs: ]

Tell me a story. Tell me of the land beyond the fade.

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