ph_logs | [Semi-Open] Eating Crow

[Semi-Open] Eating Crow

Who: Cerrit Agrupnin and People that Should Know
What: Little Talks about a Big Deal
When: Backdated late August up until Dahlia's Gala
Where: Wherever Talks Happen
Warning(s): None yet

Cerrit's secret has been eating at him, and now it's time to let it out. If you work closely with him as an Enforcer or a member of the militia, or if you're good friends with Cerrit and you don't know about his deal with Aster yet, sometime in late August (post-Blight) or early September he's going to invite you for a private conversation.

The means may vary, the context may vary, but he has some things he needs to say.

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"What topic -- or can you even say that much?"

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to think. Cerrit is, in many ways, just something of a secretive person, and retrospectively trying to work out a pattern is something of a tall order. Watson sighs, frustrated. "I suppose the obvious answer would be something related to these demons themselves?"

"I can't tell you the topic. I am still bound by the deal I made, though I didn't realize at the time that it would be so significant. The topic didn't seem as important as it would become later."

Cerrit looks down at his hands.

"I know things that others should. It'll come to light eventually, I think Aster was trying to delay, rather than completely obscure information."

"But if I can guess at it," he says, and good god John if you've ever had a brain for deduction at all this is the time to use it. He takes a deep breath. "Why on Earth would you do such a thing? What were you meant to get out of it?"

There's scepticism in his voice, and frustration.

"If it's not the demons, is it... hell, it's something or someone on the island. A person?"

"What I got out of it, love? The sending stones. We hadn't gotten the radios up and working yet, and the telephones are horribly insufficient. I could ask Aster to allow me to talk, but we'd lose the stones. And I would lose more than that."

It's right after the Blight. The stones have proven useful, as they did during the flood.

"It wasn't a deal I made because I was being selfish, John."

"That is why we have the stones?"

That startles him a little. Watson is silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is a little softer. "No, certainly not selfishness. You've saved us a lot of suffering, I suspect. I just hope the price wasn't too high. If you think the truth might come out on its own, do you think it will be soon, then?"

"I couldn't say. The wrong disaster might cleave the matter open like a geode. Or it might fester for years to come." Cerrit clicks his beak and then dares look at Watson, trying to gauge how mad he might be.

"Mad" is not the word. Frustrated,perhaps, or worried, and maybe just a little bit annoyed about being left out of the loop about everything. Again. That seems to be his lot in life.

"'Couldn't' in what sense?" Watson asks, with a sharp glance at Cerrit. "That you don't know or you can't say? Is there a reason you're telling me this now?"

"I don't know anything for certain, but the situation as become more tenuous in some ways. I'd rather be open about it in advance of anything that does happen. Every month brings new chaos. I wasn't here for the gala last year, but I did hear about its excitement."

A tiny pause. "Will you still go to the gala with me, John?"

"What sort of question is that? Of course I will."

Watson gives a bit of a snort, but the gala is a surprising topic. "Are you expecting excitement at this year's gala, then?" A vague question, which will likely get a vague answer.

"Last year, it was attacked by vampires. Despite this, Dahlia continues to keep holding the event." Ah, they're now close to the right topic. Of course, things John knows, he can say freely.

"Vampires. Good heavens." Watson lets out a long breath. He has a suspicion that he's been guided to this topic. He knows better than to fight that. For a moment he's quiet, thoughtful.

"I suppose we must note her as being a very unusual woman."

"Plenty to be noted about her. It's not something I'm just going to talk about, though. Don't try poking too hard, you'll frustrate us both."

Well, at least he knows that much. It's an improvement.

"Next time," no of course he isn't ruling out the possibility of another demon deal, "please do let me in on it, if you can? I want to help, if I can. Perhaps you can tell me one thing, though. Do you think it wise to arm myself for this gala, if it all possible?"

"Swordcane at the least." Cerrit nods. "I don't know what will come of it, but trouble is likely."

"Right. I'll be sure to be ready."

For a moment, Watson just looks very tired. "Any other secret confessions I ought to know about?"

"Sometimes I go out hunting alone because I still feel weird eating raw meat around humans and other civilized races?" It's not entirely a secret, but he hasn't talked about it to Watson much.

He almost -- almost -- has the urge to laugh, as yes, it's not exactly a secret.

"It's fortunate that I am a surgeon and a soldier, and thus not squeamish," Watson says, with something of a sigh, and he reaches to take Cerrit's hand in his. "If you're rather more carnivorous than I am, in all honesty, that's one of the smaller differences between us. You needn't hide it from me."

"It's not so much about trying to hide and more...trying to be polite, really." He shrugs, allowing Watson to hold his hand captive.

It takes Watson a moment to put together the words he wants to say.

"As I recall, the first time we met, you were eating," he says. "If I was shocked to any degree, it was immediately replaced by the need to speak to you and learn what you were like. In all honesty," and he has the grace to blush a little, because this is a very weird thing to say and he knows it, "sometimes watching you eat is a bit like watching a very skilled surgeon at work, and I mean that as the highest compliment."

"Well, you do need to be careful with the organs. Don't want to puncture the entrails, after all. What, do you want to come along next time I pick apart a deer? Won't be the first time I share one with a featherless sort, if you do. It wasn't even my kill, last time."

"You know what, I think I'd like that," Watson says, with a slow smile. "Assuming I wouldn't have to eat it quite so rare as you like it."

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[Semi-Open] Eating Crow

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