diplomacy, gird your loins.

[bouchonne]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Byerly and Eshal.
RECIPIENT: All y'all
NOTES: Blue is Byerly, red is Eshal.

Bonsoir, Riftwatch. I have some dreadful news for you all.

[ Byerly’s voice sounds a bit dry. And characteristically dramatic. ]

My dear comrade and equal, would you like to tell them?

It's not dreadful, get over yourself. Anyway, Diplomacy has two heads, because we're better than the lot of them. Right?

Oh, yes. It’s widely acknowledged as a show of faith to appoint two people to do the job normally done by one. A task given only to truly quality prospects.

Exactly.

[ A sigh. ]

My esteemed self and this esteemed lady have been appointed joint heads of Diplomacy. She, being a decent and righteous soul, has volunteered to hear any and all complaints that might be made about this decision.

Yep. Love to meet the rest of you, honestly. Come by the head office, any time. I'll supply the whiskey.

[ Byerly lifts an eyebrow at her; he’d expected a protest to him volunteering her for that thankless duty. But, well, if she’s willing to be the goat here, let her be the goat. A shrug. That’s it. Meet your new overseers. ]

Comments

[indissection]

You both have my most sincere congratulations.

[ And she sounds terribly amused about the whole event. ]

[bouchonne]

Ah, it never would have happened without my very respectable wife.

[indissection]

Nothing could possibly bring me more joy than gifting you with all that you desire, darling. [ She's trying terribly hard, still, not to laugh, because her dear husband, dead of diplomacy, tied with another - it's all terribly charming. It also makes her feel rather good about her position as Madame Rutyer. ] I will try my best to be equally diplomatic.

[bouchonne]

You can't help it. Perhaps your tongue might be a little sharp at times, but it'd be a heartless man who couldn't forgive you.

[indissection]

The sharpness of my tongue is balanced with the softness of my features, surely.

[bouchonne]

Like a rose in truth. Everyone prizes them, though they can draw blood.

[indissection]

Perhaps I should begin wearing them, as a warning.

[bouchonne]

We should adopt it as your new heraldry.

[indissection]

What a charming idea! What colour, do you think?

[bouchonne]

Purple, I think.

[indissection]

Would you match with me?

[bouchonne]

Ah, I wouldn't dare. It should be yours and yours alone.

[indissection]

I shall simply have to fill your room with flowers instead.

[saam]

But are you joining the betting pool?

[indissection]

I feel as though that would be something of a wifely betrayal, don't you?

[saam]

Not if you bet for him.

[indissection]

I don't imagine there are odds for "as long as he likes", hm?

[unshut]

There are odds for everything, my dear.

[indissection]

Then allow me to place my bet on him. Whichever seems most unlikely, to show my deep faith in my dear husband.

[saam]

That's the spirit!

[unshut]

Then you must decide, sweet lady - will your dear husband's interests hold for the fortnight or through past Wintersend?

[indissection]

Long past Wintersend, I should think.

[unshut]

What a sweet girl you are. How much would you like to bet on him?

[indissection]

What is the standard?

[unshut]

[She laughs - a low, pleasant sound. Oh, you sweet girl.]

There isn't one. You must use your intuition.