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.
Byerly, though, is frowning at the mention of the Crows. The threat has drawn him out, ever so slightly, from his miserable introspection.
"Is that considered honorable in Antiva these days? Sending assassins in place of holding a duel?" Though Maker help him, it actually might be acceptable by the rules of honor. Antivans are all completely insane.
Nicola's hands spread in a shrug: it's not dishonorable. It's Antiva. And, "If it's not in my hands, it's out of them. I did try."
Maybe Byerly should make friends with people who have more confidence in his skill with a sword? But that's none of Nicola's business, of course. He verges on smiling, the vaguely pleasant expression or someone who's not unhappy but just doesn't do a lot of smiling on the clock, and he steps back from the pair of them.
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"No. I have come to work, and 'neither of us can be spared,' as you say."
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"Is that considered honorable in Antiva these days? Sending assassins in place of holding a duel?" Though Maker help him, it actually might be acceptable by the rules of honor. Antivans are all completely insane.
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Maybe Byerly should make friends with people who have more confidence in his skill with a sword? But that's none of Nicola's business, of course. He verges on smiling, the vaguely pleasant expression or someone who's not unhappy but just doesn't do a lot of smiling on the clock, and he steps back from the pair of them.
"I will see you around."