[Semi-Open] Eating Crow

[maltesefalcon]

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.

Comments

[maltesefalcon]

"I mean, you're welcome to join me in the choice bits, but I'm not intending to cook them."

And those are the last words from him for a few minutes as he works with beak and talons to make what was once an animal into meat and organs and bones. Perhaps someone will find use in that last. He'll worry about that once he's snapped up the heart.

[lightconductor]

"I think I'll stick with just the raw oysters, if it's all the same to you."

Watson settles in at what seems an appropriate (safe? polite?) distance away, and lights a cigarette. He has little practical experience with butchery (a distinct, if parallel art to that of surgery) and his knowledge of anatomy is certainly weighted towards human or perhaps small game birds, but if nothing else, that makes it something new.

So he smokes, and he watches in relative silence.

"What are your choice bits? Aside from the heart, I mean."

[maltesefalcon]

"Liver, shank. Cheeks. The cheeks are a pain in the ass for people to cook; they tend to go for a low, slow braise to break down the connective tissue. I like picking them apart, though. We can cook the rest together, though. There's going to be plenty. Loin, ribs, shoulder, flank, neck..."

He glances up, crest lifting. It's like he's a kid in a candy shop right now.

[lightconductor]

Watson grins. He can't help it. He's very prone to catching other people's good moods.

"I'm afraid humans don't quite have the teeth to handle some of those tougher cuts raw," he says, "even if I wanted to. That's what stew is for, I'm afraid. Now, the tenderloin, that's a lovely cut of meat."

[maltesefalcon]

"I've got it here, if you want to wrap it up to bring home. The ribs, I might donate to John Rambo's ranch. He strikes me as someone who can cook a double-rack of ribs and feed his people for a few days. Rump and shoulder are ours..."

He's literally beginning to divvy up the remains, working out how he's planning to carry them all.

[lightconductor]

"Ah, you spoil me," Watson says, exhaling smoke. He wanders a little closer to look more intently at Cerrit's work. "And I daresay that they'll appreciate the gift, as well."

It's very easy to enjoy that sense of community. Watson puts out his cigarette, carefully, and flicks it away.

"Where would a second pair of hands be most useful?"

[maltesefalcon]

"Wrapping the meat that's off the carcass for carrying home. I can pass you the meat as I take it off." At least he knows Watson's not squeamish about touching muscle and sinew.

[lightconductor]

"Ah, I think I can do that without too much difficulty."

He rolls up his sleeves with a quick methodicalness, and then he kneels down to get to work. There's a stiffness in the motion that comes of a joint that does not quite bend as easily as it should, and an habitual effort to disguise that fact as much as possible.

[maltesefalcon]

Cerrit Notices, but doesn't say anything about it now. (Later, he will massage and beak-kiss and love on John's tender body. But now is not the time.) He works efficiently and carefully, and tosses cast-offs further into the woods.

"My father taught me how to hunt." It's quiet enough that John could ignore it. "I haven't taught my kids. I don't think Maya would want to. Kir, though? He'd love this."

[lightconductor]

Watson glances sideways at Cerrit, unsure what to say. He's not a father, never had that chance, and it's hard to know how to treat this subject. His hands are also in no state to offer a sympathetic squeeze.

"Why don't you think she'd be interested?" The question is soft.

[maltesefalcon]

“She’s an intellectual. Wants to study at an arcane university someday. Loves history, tracing information and how we got it. She’s not so…hands on.” He shrugs with his wings more than his arms. “And given Avalir, the flying city with all its innovation and luxury, she didn’t need to know.”

There’s a visible grimace as the thought occurs to him: “Avalir is gone. What if she needs to hunt, in the aftermath? What if I failed her yet again, not teaching her?”

[lightconductor]

Watson is still, for a moment.

"Well," he says, slowly, "it sounds as though she is an intelligent young woman and thus probably resourceful enough to make her way, even in difficult circumstances." He means it earnestly, for all his opinion of someone he's never met is worth. It seems genuinely likely to him.

[maltesefalcon]

“You’re right.” He isn’t completely at ease, but he accepts the offered reassurance. “Beside, she isn’t alone out there. She has Kir and Wrayne.”

[lightconductor]

"Well, there you go."

Watson shifts a little so that his arm brushes up against Cerrit, the only sort of physical reassurance he can manage neatly at this moment.

"I wish I could meet them."

[maltesefalcon]

"I wish you could, too. Even if...it'd complicate things a lot. But I think Wrayne would like you. The kids, too, even if Kir would mostly press you for army stories." Maya would want stories about Sherlock and mysteries, though.

[lightconductor]

Watson pauses, looking thoughtfully upward. "The explanations I would need to make to Mary -- but she would have liked you too, I think."

He's not going to be the one to mention Holmes, not at a time like this.

[maltesefalcon]

Cerrit isn't going to either, but his name being unspoken doesn't make it hang in the air any less.

"Alright, but how would you start to explain me?"

[lightconductor]

"Well, first off," Watson chuckles, low, "I would have to confirm what was admittedly something of a rather open secret in our marriage, that I am also attracted to men. Second, that it's rather a larger category than either of us expected."

He smiles a little, wistful.

[maltesefalcon]

"To be fair, I never anticipated falling for a human, myself." Cerrit does his equivalent of a wicked grin, something Watson can easily read by now.

[lightconductor]

"You did have the advantage of knowing humans exist," Watson points out, but there's a laugh underneath it.

[maltesefalcon]

"Yes, well, none of those humans were you." And that mattered significantly, apparently. "There are elves that marry humans, you know. Even though they'll outlive their spouses by centuries, potentially."

[lightconductor]

Well, that has him blushing! Watson gives a pleased little laugh, momentarily unable to come up with any words in response.

"Psh. I'm a very ordinary man, at the end of the day. But thank you." He's still smiling. "I'm rather glad we don't have to deal with centuries, though."

[maltesefalcon]

"So am I. We'll deal with today, we'll deal with tomorrow. We'll deal with life here. And then...who knows?" There is, again, a Holmes-shaped hole in the conversation. John has someone he could go home to, as Cerrit has a whole calamity.

[lightconductor]

"Yes, who knows."

Watson closes his eyes for a moment. "I love you," he says. "Maybe I'm a fool for that, but I do."

[maltesefalcon]

"We are both fools, but that's not news, is it?" Cerrit touches Watson's cheek with the back of a talon.

"Let's just enjoy the moments as we have them, for now."