[closed]

[heirring]

WHO: Tony Stark & Wysteria Poppell & Ellis
WHAT: Shop talk and self defense.
WHEN: Justinian (Nowish Catchall so I don't flood the comms)
WHERE: On the boat back from the jungle adventure; some might call this 'the Jungle Cruise'; Kirkwall
NOTES: N/A, will add if Wysteria throws Tony overboard or stabs the wrong training dummy.

TONY SPARK.

[Ordinarily, she has very little in the way of fondness for boats. Ships? She cannot even begin to fathom where the difference lies. But after days spent stumbling through the jungle, preceded by days being treated to the poor keeping of Venatori agents, she might find some charity in her heart for transport on a sufficiently wide board so long as it meant no further walking on her own two feet. Further, when relieved of the prospect of how they are getting where they are going and in what direction, exactly, where is, one finally has time to indulge in philosophical questions such as What must need doing upon our return?, or--

Well, there are lots of questions one might ask themselves under such circumstances. But that is by far the one which she prefers.

Hence her sudden appearance at his elbow (although to say it comes as a surprise would be to discredit Wysteria's propensity for charging about).]

Now then, Mr. Stark. Where were we?

MR. ELLIS.

I see no reason why we cannot simply do this in the back garden.

[She is referring, of course, to the dreary little courtyard with its planters and cracked old paving stones over which Ellis has been laboring to make slightly less overgrown and dreadfully unkempt alongside the house in Hightown. It is where their lessons have always taken place prior to this one.

True, there really isn't much room for wielding a bow and arrow in the garden and her neighbors already resent the new occupant of the mansion terribly; and true, that those tutoring sessions with swords or little knives or whatever you like had tended to devolve into her sitting on one of the planter walls, weeding the dirt and discussing books rather than doing much with sharp objects. But really, it hardly seems necessary to go to these lengths.

Meaning the Gallows practice yards, wherein Miss Wysteria Poppell looks rather out of place in her skirts. Nevermind that they are very recently late of adventuring through jungles, and there she wore very nearly the exact equivalent of what she has on today. There is something about being fresh faced, clean and well-pressed in breezy summer cottons and little leather boots with flowers stamped at the ankles which simply lends poorly to such an environment.]

Comments

[heirring]

[Because he was enthusiastic about the concept when no one else was would be an exceptionally silly answer and furthermore has nothing whatsoever to do with her continued tolerance of Monsieur de Fonce, and so she says nothing on the subject of moral support.]

As I have mentioned before, he has committed some measure of funding. And, much as I loathe to say it, he has done some work on siege engines and knows a thing or two about native demolitions, the latter of which promised to be very helpful prior to--

[She motions to his general chest region. You know.]

[propulsion]

Hey, no sudden movements at my third nipple. It gets scared.

[ Her explanation is wafer thin as far as explanations goes, which is suspect, but there will be time enough to suss that out. Especially if they're handing him opportunities to do so on a weekly basis. ]

Fine. But he has to bring his own snacks. Those are our snacks.

[heirring]

I see no reason why that should be an obstacle. I'm sure he will be most understanding of being asked to contribute to the stockpile.

[Likelihood of Val bringing his own snacks: low. Low enough that she's going to veer as promptly away from further discussion of this subject as she did from the whole hugging thing.]

Well, Mr. Stark. Now that we appear to be sharing the same page, I should leave you to your-- whatever it was you were doing before this. I have some things I'd like to discuss with Mr. Fitz regarding tracings we took from the thaig ruin and I believe he's finally stopped being seasick for long enough to discuss them properly.

[Has Fitz been ill? Who cares, it sounds plausible enough.]

[propulsion]

Poor lad. Be gentle.

[ And Tony does resume the whatever it was he was doing, watching her go before staring accusingly at the horizon. ]