faderift | [SEMI-OPEN]

"I could have asked the same of you," returns John, who has lifted a heavier volume from the table to hold noncommittally. Just testing the feel of it in the hand, as if that gives him some idea whether or not it's the correct thing to purchase. "But I suppose it depends on what you're trying to find. For yourself, I assume?"

There's some other, polite questions John hasn't gotten around to yet, most notably: You're new in town, aren't you?

He chuckles, admits, "You could, but I wouldn't be much help."

Which probably goes a way towards answering the unasked question. If there seemed to be a good reason to hide being a newcomer, he'd — at least try, but James Holden can hardly help being overly honest.

"Yeah, just for me." Wryly, as he picks up what promises to be a history of Ferelden, "Looking for some light reading."

A light, thoughtful hum in response, as John watches Holden's selection.

"Getting acclimated?"

A shrewd guess.

"I'm not the best read man in Kirkwall," ha. "But if you're interested in countries, Orlais might be a good place to start. Or if you're curious about our enemies, Tevinter. Assuming there's a worthwhile history compiled somewhere in this shop."

Doesn't seem like this man misses much. It doesn't make Holden warier, exactly, just a little more aware of the conversation.

"Something like that."

But he exhales in acknowledgement, glancing around the shop, at the likelihood of finding a decent history in here; it'd be smart to find others and look at their selections, regardless.

"Why Orlais?"

Genuine curiosity, since the rationale for Tevinter's already been explained.

"Because I've taken what I assume is one of the better books on Nevarra," John quips, fingers drummming the cover of his own selected book, before offering more seriously, "And because it's occupied, at the moment, so by necessity we focus our attention there."

Though even as John says this, he considers that it's a generous summing up of Riftwatch's approach. This organization's attention is fractured at the best of times, split between a dozen different matters and adding more by the moment.

"I assume you're working with us in some capacity?" John questions, with a small nod to Holden's hand. "Or planning to, once you've gotten the lay of the land."

There's a laugh, obliging but sincere enough at the joke, before he adds an, "Then I'll be sure to look into it."

Because there's no point denying an affiliation with Riftwatch, is there? John might not have outright guessed that he's a Rifter, but there's no point trying to deny it either.

"Do I have a choice?"

His tone is mild, but maybe just this side of combative. No one's tried to coerce him, obviously, but he doesn't imagine Riftwatch takes them in, houses, and feeds them and expects nothing in return either.

"Whether or not you care to go to work? Of course. No one's going to drag you kicking and screaming towards our duties."

Though John sounds sincere about this, there is a minor squint at Riftwatch in general.

"So I suppose it depends on whether or not you're the type of man who prefers to stay idle."

It's not accusatory. John had certainly been the type of man who'd have headed in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him at one point in his life. (Not so long ago, in fact.) But John's willing to gamble someone already looking for answers and information isn't the type of person willing to stand by for very long.

If John's tone had been even a little different, this could've become an argument. But Holden manages not to bristle at the word choice.

"There's a difference between staying idle and pledging allegiance to an unknown quantity. I'm grateful for the help getting on our feet. I really am. But that's not the same thing as trust."

Allegiance strikes John as a joke almost. What is Riftwatch but a loose collection of individuals with a shared goal and too many opinions between them? There's no reason to volunteer as much to this man.

"The books are only going to get you so far, on that front."

Not that John is really the right person to talk to about trust, regardless.

"Do you assume our part in this war to be so...untrustworthy?"

Maybe surprisingly, his answer is: "No."

He crosses his arms loosely, exhales. Truthfully, he's had nothing but good experiences with members of Riftwatch so far; and the aforementioned finding him and Amos, providing clothes, food, money, and information isn't an inconsiderable thing.

"But it's not that simple."

Fred Johnson largely has good and honorable intentions, and despite their differences, Holden knows that's remained true. Hasn't made him like all Fred's choices, though, all the things Fred wanted them to do for him, doesn't mean Fred's never abused his trust. Certainly hasn't made him any more inclined to let the Roci be officially affiliated with the OPA, despite popular perception.

And, equally important... "Anything I commit to, anything I commit any member of my crew to, I'd better be damn sure about."

If it were just his life, that'd be one thing. But there's Amos, and there's the possibility of Naomi or Alex showing up the same way they did. The choices he makes affects all of them.

In turn, John's thoughts stray to the men of the Walrus, having committed themselves to a cause over two years ago and weathering a serious blow to it.

"I can't say I fault you the caution," John says after a moment, having shifted to lean against the cluttered table of books, Nevarran history at his hip. "And I certainly can't say I know exactly what it's like to be in your position."

Whether John means Rifter, captain, a man of principle, it's Holden's guess.

"But your fate is tied to ours, in some ways. Perhaps I've been foolish in not advising you to read on the Chantry."

Your fate is tied to ours, John says, and he cants his head in acknowledgment. It'd be hard, for him, not to feel a pull of responsibility towards the people of this world anyway, but there's also the shard in his hand as a perpetual reminder.

"The Chantry." It takes him a brief moment to remember his primer on Thedas. "The church?"

"After a fashion."

Though now that he's proposed it, John can't be sure there is a proper introduction to the Chantry. He's hardly expert, but he also doesn't know anyone with a measured opinion on the organization.

"Like any religion, it's complicated. But from the Chantry flows all rulings on how the Chant and Andraste apply to the events of the day," John says, rather than attempt to impart the nuance of the Chant or who Andraste was. "As you can imagine, their decisions have a fair amount of impact."

John can only assume religion functions the same way regardless. But he is at least trying to be delicate in his discussion of the Chantry in a public place.

"And," he guesses after a beat, reflexively making a fist with his shard-carrying hand, "they don't care for people in my position?"

This time: Rifter.

John's hands spread in front of him, a slight shrug, in response.

"I wouldn't presume to guess at what the Divine feels."

There's a twist of humor in John's expression.

"There were negotiations, I believe. Enchanter Julius would be a good man to speak to, if you're curious, or the Provost. I was still far to the north when it was all occurring, but I believe the question of people in your position was discussed at length."

Maybe John could be forgiven for focusing his attention on the decisions affecting mages, rather than Rifters. One had been more pressing than the other, but now—

"I work in the Diplomacy office here," John offers. "I can tell you that someone in your position would be welcome, if only to offer us a viewpoint none of us would be able to inhabit on our own."

It wouldn't hurt to look into, the negotiations John mentions. He makes a note of the names Enchanter Julius and the Provost, nodding along as he listens. Where he stops nodding is the suggestion, which makes him laugh despite himself.

"I'm sorry," he says, holding a hand up. "I appreciate the offer, but you don't want me anywhere near your Diplomacy office."

He'd like...to be done...causing diplomatic incidents...

"And why is that?" John asks, some flicker of amusement in his tone.

Whatever this man was, John doubts he's any worse than the rest of Riftwatch. Even at their best, they were an unruly mess of an organization. There's little chance this man could be a bigger liability than the talking skull, or certain other parties John could think of.

Where do you find the Cap? The coffee place. And then you listen to him gab while you drink your coffee. It's pleasantly earthy, the water in the brew having the flavors of real, unfiltered water, not recycled a thousand times and scrubbed free of every microbe.

He hopes there aren't any heavy metals in there.

After the coffee place, it's easy to follow Holden, making sure he doesn't get into trouble in a city he's got no right wandering off in.

Amos steps in when it suits him. "Hey, Cap!" He calls. "Tell 'em about the time you almost started a war."

Edited 2020-11-07 01:56 (UTC)

On the one hand: incredible that a man as big as Amos is capable of being so stealthy Holden missed him until now.

On the other hand: why wouldn't he be around, really.

On the other other hand: Yeah, that's why.

"'Almost' is probably being generous," he sighs, briefly passes a hand over his eyes. "There was a war."

Where's Avasarala to explain what a diplomatic nightmare he is!

"And there's usually a couple of governments who hate us at any given time."

Squints in Amos's direction to try to remember the current tally. Mars definitely still does, Earth is...ehhh. They have a lot of goodwill from the Belt, but it's not like he hasn't antagonized the hell out of Dawes and Johnson. Or like Drummer likes him any better than she did the last time they talked.

"Then you'll feel right at home here."

Is this comforting to hear from one of the leaders of the Diplomacy division? Surely the truth is helpful to acclimate.

"I can't say we're hated, but we're regarded with a fair amount of skepticism. And we're already in the middle of a war, so..."

A pause, accompanied by a minor shrug as John looks between them. There is a simple truth here: regardless of what these men choose to do or avoid, their presence is already a topic of discussion.

"I can only say, were it me, I'd like to have some leverage in any negotiations that would affect my life here for as long as I would be present."

Not to dwell on what might happen to Rifters when they left.

"Yeah, you got a war. You want another one?" Amos asks amiably. He pats Holden's shoulder. "Here's your guy."

He sips his coffee. "I can help. You got a lot of real motherfuckers in this place."

"Amos."

What he says: Amos. What he means: I know you think you're helping, but the point's been made. Possibly, he just sounds mildly agonized.

What he says to John is, "We'll think about it."

And means it, not just said as a pleasantry — not that he's much given to them, likely something clear to John already. Is it comforting to hear a leader from Diplomacy be so frank? It doesn't hurt, and plain talking will always rise someone higher in his estimation than slipperiness. At least they know the score, or part of it.

"It's a good point."

John's gaze lingers on Amos, some light amusement on his expression. This isn't the time for indulging curiosity, but he can make a guess at what Amos might excel at.

A very specific kind of Diplomacy, maybe, but not the kind John deals in.

"I'm not a difficult man to find, if either of you have questions after you've done some reading."

Or searching. Holden strikes him as the type to ask questions. His partner, maybe less so. But still, there's no harm in the offering.

"Ask after John Silver in the Diplomacy tower. Or in any of the taverns along the waterfront. I'm a fairly easy man to find."

Straightening as he speaks, book lifted from the bench as he shifts his weight onto the crutch. A particular gift of John's: knowing when to make an exit.

[SEMI-OPEN]

b / not sorry for the double tap

never be sorry

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