WHO: Nicola + You WHAT: Fresh meat. And eventually old gross meat too. WHEN: Bloomingtide, pre-mod plot. WHERE: Kirkwall & the Gallows for now. NOTES: Putting open and closed things for all my dudes in here as I write them, so if you want to plan something with any of them, tap my shoulder about it.
Well. Since this man has had the bad manners to overtly acknowledge Byerly’s move towards his knife, By will have the bad manners to openly lay his hand on its hilt.
Nicola's attention flicks back to Benedict. He takes a moment to stand there, silent, considering their expressions.
"Apparently not. I am sorry to have troubled you," he says.
He unfolds his arms from their formal rest behind his back and moves to continue on his way, but two steps in he stops and pivots back as if having just remembered:
"Chiaro Matelizi was my cousin — "
Not his first cousin. Or his second. But a cousin, somewhere in there.
" — and as you know, Señor Rutyer, he is also dead. I am busy this week, but... next Saturday?"
The name has an immediate effect upon Byerly. He grows suddenly very stiff, and very still, his face utterly immobile and his lips thin. But it’s not from anger, or even from fear; his grip falls away from his knife, rather than tightening on it. It’s something else - something more haunted.
“I…” He takes a breath in, then lowers his gaze. “Wartime is a very bad time for a duel, Señor Levati. Is there no other type of satisfaction you’d accept?”
Unprepared for how that escalated, Benedict is caught in a stare at Nicola for far too long before he has the sense to look at Byerly instead, who... takes the situation into stride.
Benedict opens his mouth to question, but closes it again, having the sense not to interrupt what is clearly a negotiation between whatever it is they call themselves. He casts a furtive glance back at Nicola, reassessing him.
Nicola, as serious as anything, gestures with both hands to himself.
"Antivan."
Which is a no, to accepting anything short of a duel.
"I will find a second somewhere," he adds, because even issuing a challenge this way has obviously been horribly informal and he never would have if he were not freshly arrived without any people to speak of, obviously.
"I can - " Byerly pinches the bridge of his nose. "Provide a list of recommendations. If need be." If it must happen, it ought to happen properly. Right?
Maker, he had thought this chapter of his life was finished and done. And who is this man? Is he the sort to take a slash and call it done - and if he is, is he the sort to leave his blade plain, or coat it with venom?
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He's distantly aware of receiving a new dossier, an Antivan one, that he hasn't had the chance to look over yet. In the moment, he wishes he had.
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He arches his eyebrows. Can they help him?
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"Apparently not. I am sorry to have troubled you," he says.
He unfolds his arms from their formal rest behind his back and moves to continue on his way, but two steps in he stops and pivots back as if having just remembered:
"Chiaro Matelizi was my cousin — "
Not his first cousin. Or his second. But a cousin, somewhere in there.
" — and as you know, Señor Rutyer, he is also dead. I am busy this week, but... next Saturday?"
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“I…” He takes a breath in, then lowers his gaze. “Wartime is a very bad time for a duel, Señor Levati. Is there no other type of satisfaction you’d accept?”
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Benedict opens his mouth to question, but closes it again, having the sense not to interrupt what is clearly a negotiation between whatever it is they call themselves. He casts a furtive glance back at Nicola, reassessing him.
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"Antivan."
Which is a no, to accepting anything short of a duel.
"I will find a second somewhere," he adds, because even issuing a challenge this way has obviously been horribly informal and he never would have if he were not freshly arrived without any people to speak of, obviously.
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Maker, he had thought this chapter of his life was finished and done. And who is this man? Is he the sort to take a slash and call it done - and if he is, is he the sort to leave his blade plain, or coat it with venom?