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[rathercommon]

crystal | letter | cease and desist notices slipped under her door | action

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[rathercommon]

It might have been a bit easier if the woman looked like she was looking for someone. Kitty eyes someone unfamiliar, who's definitely tall, but who also looks pretty engaged with other stuff. And it's not like she feels shy or anything, but the thought of approaching someone and asking them hey are you the person who called me is so embarrassing, even anticipating what's to come, that she feels preemptively anxious and sort of wants to slink back to her room. Besides, she doesn't know this woman, doesn't know what to expect from her, even what she wants...

So she quietly goes over and gets herself a cup of...Well, not tea, whatever they're passing off for tea these days. And a little bit of shortbread, more flour than sweetness.

[saam]

Luckily, or unluckily, Eshal has little in the spirit of shyness. She doesn't know who Miss Jones is or what she looks like, but 'Miss' means woman usually, and usually women outside the Qun look the way they were born. When someone fitting that description ambles over with drink and food. Eshal looks up, picks up another cup on the table, and pours some of her questionable alcohol in it.

She slides it across to the woman.

"You Miss Jones?"

[rathercommon]

The woman being offered alcohol is not Miss Jones. Kitty, however, is just behind that woman, so that when the soldier that Eshal had addressed shakes her head (and grabs the alcohol she was poured; she's not giving that up), Kitty hesitates, then says, "I am."

She is just a girl; no question of that. She's almost to the end of her teenagerly gawkiness, but it's still there, as is a softness in her cheeks that doesn't quite match the hardness of her jaw or the watchfulness of her eyes. She sits, tea in hand, gaze trained on Eshal, and asks -

"What is it you want?"

[saam]

Eshal lets out a breath of laughter. "Well, good luck with that shit."

She refills her own mug, drinking it calmly. "Knocks most humans flat."

And then, up at Jones. "Since you wanna cut to the chase, I just wanna pick your brains, nothing big. I talked to Benedice-" whatever his name is- "about how things are in Minrathous. Seeing as he's in a cage and you're not, I figure your word's probably better."

[rathercommon]

The thing is, Kitty knows that this woman got named head of diplomacy. And Kitty knows that there ought to be something coming down from the leadership over her involvement with Benedict and his stupidity. It hasn't come yet, but - it ought to be. And who better to deliver it than the head of diplomacy? No - she's not going to let her guard down.

So she wraps her hands around her cup, and lifts her chin, and says, "Go ahead, then. Ask away."

[saam]

And Eshal sees a woman in front of Ben-Hissrath, desperately trying to say the right thing to avoid reeducation. You're not going to get any useful answers out of that.

...But what choice does she have? Jones isn't like the kid in the cage, desperate for scraps. What she's staring down is resolve, not terror. You can only win over resolve by working with it, and Eshal has no clue what Jones' goals are, or if she even has any.

When push comes to shove, Eshal defaults to her favorite tactic: scouring honesty.

"I'm gonna be flat with you," the term in Trade is be straight, but whatever. "I have... maybe two thirds of three plans. All of them need more information to move forward. I'm ex-Qun; what I know about Tevinter could fit in this mug."

She holds it up for emphasis.

"So tell me what you saw in Minrathous. Were the people happy? Scared? What kind of people did you see? How easy was it to get in and out?"

[rathercommon]

But Kitty shakes her head. Here, at least, she can be honest.

"We weren't in Minrathous." She wraps her hands around her cup of tea, looking steadily at Eshal. "We only traveled to two estates. And in between, I kept hidden. So the intelligence I can give you is - " A shrug. "Well, what I know is about as much as what you know, really."

[saam]

"Huh," she says, and then, "well, I can work with that. Not every lead goes there."

A shrug, but she doesn't get up to leave, just sits, thinking something through.

"One thing, though. I talked to the kid, he mentioned... he got cagey where blood magic came up. Seemed odd to me, being a Vint and all. They doing anything weird with that shit that you saw?"

[rathercommon]

Kitty's lips thin. Her gaze - usually steady and unflinching - turns away. Her hands tighten around the mug.

"His mum's one," she responds shortly. "A blood mage. A nasty one."

[saam]

Eshal's voice lowers, sympathetic. "How bad was it?"

[rathercommon]

Kitty, though - unused to sympathy, and therefore suspicious of it - tenses in response to that low, soft tone. And she shrugs, shoulders tight.

"I'm alive, so obviously not that bad."

[saam]

Wrong move, but Eshal isn't sure the girl actually has the information she needs anyway. She slides the jug forward. "This is Maraas-lok," she says. "Strongest drink there is. Take it in sips. Or sell it; some folk will pay high for it."

And she stands, turning to go.

[rathercommon]

And to think the last one was a bad move; it has nothing on this. Kitty's head rears back, and her dark eyes flash with an unadulterated and dangerous rage.

"Sorry," she says, voice high and incredulous, "is it that I look like a drunkard, a beggar, or a drunken beggar, that you pay for my time with alcohol for me to peddle? Shall I perhaps find a few other poor folk to pass it to? Is that your intention?"

[saam]

You can't win them all. Two out of three isn't bad.

"It's a gift. It's rare and strong. If you don't like it, pour it in the sea." She shrugs. "I don't like to be forgot. Now you won't."

[rathercommon]

"Oh, so you meant to insult me?" She rises to her feet now, heavy brows so furrowed they practically look like a single line. "So I wouldn't forget you? What a brilliant bloody plan."

[saam]

Either this girl is the child she seems, or someone gave her alcohol once and it seriously fucked her over. Regardless, there's no point in pissing on the wound. Eshal keeps herself from rolling her eyes, shrugging-- who cares, really.

"I never meant it as an insult," she says. "Where I'm from, it's a great gift. But if you see it as an insult..." She leans down, takes the jug. "More for me."

[rathercommon]

"Yeah?" She crosses her arms, jaw jutting out stubbornly. "And what did I do to earn this great gift, then?"

[saam]

"You answered honestly," she says, now shrugging. This is eating up her patience. "Which is all I ever asked."

[rathercommon]

She didn't, though. Not really. Oh, sure, she answered the questions posed to her, but the answers weren't really in the spirit of it all. I've made contact with and have a network of Tevinter freedom fighters, that's probably relevant for this woman. And she's almost furious enough to snarl about it to her - But no. She's learned more caution than that.

So instead, she just tosses her head and spits, "Sure. Whatever." Then - "My time doesn't get bought. Least of all bought with your cast-off swill. So you can keep it."

[saam]

Alright, that's enough. There's a point where being nice is rolling over and taking it, and they're getting pretty fucking close to that.

"Let me make some shit clear," and there isn't anger in her voice, so much as tired disappointment.

"I don't fucking buy people. I don't buy their time. I ask, and if they don't play, it isn't worth it. So I don't know what bug crawled up your ass, and I don't give a shit.The only thing happened here today was you proving you're completely worthless as an asset or an ally. If that was your plan all along, you did perfect."

She gives the girl a little salute with the jug, and walks away.

crystal, prob backdated a tad (what is time)

[rowancrowned]

I have had five conversations about you in half as many weeks.

Six, if we count the one with my wife.

hey pops

[rathercommon]

[ name: kitty jones. disposition: paranoid. ]

Why? About what? With whom?

[rowancrowned]

Your suitability for the role, Tevinter. Your ‘temper’.

I do not mind if you have side projects, Kitty, we all pretend not to. I simply do not like surprises, especially when they might be used against me.

[rathercommon]

[ A swirl of emotions goes through her, a variety of responses bubbling up - the prevaricating but you're ever so busy, the technically-true-but-dishonest I did file a report, even a furious ans defiant scream of I can handle it myself, I've always been able to handle it myself. But this is Thranduil - Gwenaelle's husband - and so she gives a response that's desperately honest. ]

I don't...I didn't know who I could trust with it. With any of it.

[rowancrowned]

Come have dinner tonight with Gwenaëlle and I. We can discuss it then. Are you available?