[closed] insert a clever log header here

[bouchonne]

WHO: Byerly Rutyer, James Flint, Tony Stark, and Yseult Scouting
WHAT: Divheads meeting with some quiet quitting
WHEN: Nowish?
WHERE: Gallows
NOTES: Nah

This certainly isn't the first time the division heads have spoken to one another since Granitefell, but they haven't exactly seen much of one another. So there's something nostalgic about this. Byerly prepares coffee, and assembles a plate of breads and cheeses from the kitchens, and sets it all up in the peace room, and sits, and waits. He is, for once in his life, early.

He's asked the others to come. He hasn't told them what it's about - simply that it's a diplomatic matter. Whatever it is, it seems it's not the most dire matter: He smiles at the others when they arrive, and his lazy hound-dog Whiskey lies at his feet, snoring gently.

"Good afternoon, dear fellows," he says when they've assembled. "Have some coffee."

Comments

[katabasis]

Flint steps over the dog's tail to get at the coffee pot. Outdoors, it is raining—the droplets battering here at the windows too—and from the state of his boots he has recently been out in it. Under a layer of waxed canvas, given the relatively not soaking wet state of the rest of him, but eager enough to make use of the pot and the cups to hand regardless.

"Who are we playing host to this time?"

Bent over the low table, Flint lifts the pot. Turns the filled cup after so the handle is pivoted in Yseult's direction before he moves on to pour a second.

[hassaran]

Yseult slips fingers through the handle, giving Flint the corner of a grateful smile before she drifts away to take a seat, settling into one of the armchairs opposite, and crossing legs at the knee beneath her emerald skirt. Wherever she's been hiding since the resurrection of Granitefell it has had better weather--instead of fading with the onset of fall her tan is deeper than ever, freckles all but subsumed by it, and set off by the crisp white of her blouse and pale grey shawl wrapped round her shoulders.

She turns the cup in her hand and lifts it. "It must be someone very bad, to have brought snacks. The Divine, perhaps? The Empress?"