The Vijays caught their thief. Shanlee saw it.
RL Date: 6/21/08
IC Date: 10/31/16
Warning: Language. --Surprise, isn't it? ;)
Could it have been staged? Could anyone have known? The very afternoon that Shanlee went barging in to the trader camp, they were all up-in-arms. Many of the Vijays were out and about for the day, week, month, trying to get in a last bit of trading before hunkering down for the winter, but there was a cluster of a dozen or so huddled around one end of the fire-pit. Rajiv was there, looking righteous, and Chedayi was there, looking lost.
And so it spun from there-- Chedayi's tent had been searched, many of the lost articles belonging to the Reaches had been located therein, and the young man was made to answer for himself with Shanlee herself there. But there was no good answer; he admitted to stealing /some/ of those things, not all oh not all even he wasn't that much of a klepto, he insisted. But Rajiv said it best-- "The proof's in the pudding, son."
As if disappointed in the young man, Rajiv lead him off with his hands bound toward one of the sturdier wagons, and the remaining Vijays stood around in various attitudes: distress, certainty, sympathy, smugness. But there was nothing more to see after that, the thief caught and "confessed," the camp trying to return to its daily routine.
By the time N'thei gets wind of the happenings, his reaction is almost rote; Wyaeth to Kaylith, << Come. >> And the man waits in the council room, hard and grim as ever, prowling at the end of the table with his arms crossed.
Features tight, a flat expression to green eyes, Shanlee enters the council room. Eyes make a sweep of the area, then land on the grim looking N'thei for a brief moment. Gloves peeling off one at a time she approaches with a sardonic, "You called?" paying more attention to the small task at hand than actually looking at the Weyrleader himself now.
"Happy?" N'thei doesn't sound it himself, sounds like the fling of accusation while he looks across the length of the council table at Shanlee, at her mild removal of gloves. Lips set to a hard line, eyes cloud-gray, he betrays his emotions, anger and irritation and disappointment, far more openly than is his norm.
Not really, but she'll push the buttons anyway, "More than," Shanlee responds through a tight smile. Reaching the lower end of the table where N'thei's got himself positioned she drops the gloves onto its top nonchalantly. With a tip of head to one side, "Pissed with me?" arms fold about herself, challenge held in her eyes.
Harsh; "Stupid question." /Stupid./ That nonchalance briefly sets N'thei to filing at his lip with his teeth, time taken to master the hateful look that hangs from Shanlee still. "We shouldn't have been involved. What were you doing there?"
Low, near derisive laughter echoes about the silent chambers, "Stupid man," she gives in return and all acts of nonchalance are wiped away. Flatly repeating next, "Shouldn't have been involved, hmm?" one step, another and she's standing right up in front of him, just out of personal space but close enough to likely rankle, "Fixing your cock-up." Blunt.
"Do you think, for a moment, that I still need you to look after me? Thread is gone, your usefulness is limited." Perhaps proximity, perhaps months of being wound spring-tight have turned N'thei's tone vicious, have given him cause to look at Shanlee with such distaste. "What were you doing there." He doesn't move to bat a lash at her, surely rankled but his stance is solid, arms crossed, shoulders square, eyes hammered to hers.
"Had bugger all to do with Thread and more about that gung-ho attitude of yours. But sure," arms unfold and hands spread outward, "if that's what lets you sleep at night. I'm of little use," bitterly sarcastic at the end there. Lips curl up into a sneer for the vicious tone and look N'thei sends her. Shanlee does manage to crack a smirk, "Catching me a thief if you must know. Chedayi, I believe his name is," watching him closely for his reaction. Now she steps back and pulls that mask of nonchalance back on, "You know, for a man who has some smart ideas, you sure make some dumb moves."
N'thei's mad, mad enough to lash out; "Because all your caution has accomplished what? My gung-ho attitude gets things done while you pass judgment without knowing sacrifice." His reaction? He leans his head back, looks up toward the ceiling for inspiration, shakes his head in frustration at Shanlee. "Good for you. I'm so fucking happy that you caught a petty fucking thief, Shanlee. Do you want a fucking prize or something?" Inspiration apparently came in the form of vitriol and profanity.
Anger flashes into green eyes, "Don't you -fucking- talk to me about sacrifice, N'thei! What have -you- personally sacrificed aside from your little stint in jail, huh? You sacrifice others on your alter of getting things done. Others, not -you-!" Jaw snapping shut, Shanlee turns her back on him, hand to forehead in extreme frustration, "I just want to know that you stop and think about the consequences sometimes. Do you? Ever? Calculated risk, mean anything to you?" The Weyrleader's last to her earns him a dark glare shot to him over her shoulder and lower toned, "Those things stolen meant something to their rightful owners. He, they," she lumps all the traders together, "had no right to them." As if suddenly struck by the idea, "Tell me. If you knew about the personals taken, would you have done something about it or continued to turn a blind eye, I wonder?"
Through gritted teeth, hard to bite back the desire to justify himself for a moment-- "So right you are. I have given nothing to see us survive, succeed." N'thei's arms stay crossed, his movements bare, but his left hand balls to a white-knuckled fist, the trace of old scars standing out even paler. "Calculated risk. Over what? Five, ten marks worth of personal shit? --They were told not to bite the hand that feeds them, they rooted out their thief, it's done. Your righteousness is tiresome."
Shanlee's jaw flexes, eyes narrowing onto N'thei as she grates out, "You really are a piece of work, you know that?" Seeing as how she's turned back to face him now, the white knuckled fist is given a short glance and she taunts, "Go on, hit me," stepping up closer enough that he could, "I'll just bet you're dying to!" challenging silence stretches out for a moment. Then brows arch upward, "It's done? No, it's only just beginning, Weyrleader." A hand slips into her jacket pocket, "You're going to tell the Vijays to pack up and leave," a folded piece of hide is extracted, "Or else all those listed here will know that you were aware of the personals taken and turned that convenient blind eye of yours and did nothing about it in the name of getting things done."
No, N'thei's not going to hit her, but his eyes fix on that piece of paper with a snap behind them, raise to Shanlee's with a slow, undaunted denial in the way he shakes his head. "You don't want to do that. Topple the kingpin, the rest will fall. Tell them I knew, tell them so did Satiet, Hayda, Milani. Apparently you." He takes a calm breath, for a man being blackmailed anyway, and fixes cold eyes back to Shanlee's narrowed ones; "Tell them I knew. They already hate me. But the rest of you?"
"Oh, I very much do," Shanlee's tone turns silky soft, "The higher you are, the harder you fall. You don't really care whether Satiet, Hayda or even Milani go down. You're just worried about your own ass. And so, here we are. Back to that old story of those sacrificial lambs that cover your butt, aren't we?" she appears almost amused if not for the cold look to her eyes. "As to me? This is one you can't finger me in seeing as how I came upon the information post thievery. See...I have the thief sitting in a wagon all bound up like a little piggy." The list is folded and put away again, "Way I see it. My name's still all shiny. How 'bout yours?"
N'thei meets the accusations solidly, wears them with the pride of squared shoulders and straight spine. "This is where we differ, I don't care about my spotless image. --I gave the Vijays the chance to find the thief in their midst on their own, the same chance I would ask for our people if we harbored a criminal unknowingly." And that's exactly the story he'll tell if this all comes to light, count on it. "/They/ caught their thief, but you have to be the one to shine, don't you."
Once again, mocking laughter spills out from Shanlee, "You really don't know a lot about traders do you?" it tapers off into, "No trader will give one of their own over, just like that," fingers snap in emphasis. "Why even Satiet didn't give our thieving heroes over did she? Not really. She gave Crom a limp-legged old man instead. So while that might wash with the lower caverns and drudges, it sure as hell don't wash with me, and I'll bet it won't with a few others either." As to shine and the capture of thieves a snort appears, "Spin it anyway you want. I don't really care. Heck, take the credit for yourself, tell everyone I was acting on your orders and what a wonderful hero you are. All I want are the personals returned and that lot out of here."
Something snaps, and N'thei unfolds his hands to slam them down on the table, a gesture of angry impotence-- he can't hit Shanlee, much as he might like, so something has to bear the weight of his frustration. "Why does it have to be black-and-white with you! Why can't you see beyond a few petty thefts!" The words are hard, but he really sounds more pleadingly frustrated than fighting mad. "I would not lead everyone that I care about into this foolishness for nothing, would not suffer everyone to hate me if I didn't believe that the ends justify the means. I swear it, Shanlee, I have made no personal gain."
True, Shanlee starts at the slam of hands to table, but she recovers and leans her own onto the table top and narrows a look up onto bronzerider, "There's a lot you don't know about me, N'thei, and aren't likely to. But I'll tell you this. I live in bloody grey!" As against black and white. Straightening and sliding hands off the table she continues, "I don't give a toss about thievery, it always has been and always will be, but there is a line I draw and don't ever step over. That's the one that speaks to personal possessions such as Viviana's necklace. That ale of L'vae's cousin?" slight shoulders shrug, "shit happens." N'thei's latter words still the tide and she cocks a guarded glance back over his way studying him for long moments of silence, "You swear that on anything you might actually hold dear?"
In bloody gray-- "Then why make this your crusade? I feel for the people who've lost things, but we stand to gain so much if we can just..." N'thei's hands slide back across the table, the squeak of sweaty palms and tense fingers. "Will swear it on whatever you want. Wyaeth's egg? My own blood? Name your noose, I'll hang myself on it." A hand smears down his face, aims to find stoic composure, straightens his collar, little things.
Shanlee falters, frowns a little and finds the grain of the table of high interest. Finally, quieter, "Because some of them were items of sentimental value and...I don't -know- alright?" a sharp exhale of breath follows. More frowning, more thinking, "Maybe because they were put to the cause without their knowledge. Or because if there's anything you need right now, it's the support and faith of those you lead. Because without that, it really doesn't matter if we lose the loyalty of those outside of this Weyr. Two hundred turns is a long, long time and dissent amongst the ranks will turn the holders against us quicker than stealing from their stores." N'thei's admission is met with a short nod, "I believe you." Then, "I also believe your intentions start out good and just...get lost somewhere along the way." Hands slide into pockets and the weyrsecond allows an ironic smile to appear, "You need to start trusting someone sooner or later. Not everyone hates you, but they're coming damn close simply because they don't understand."
N'thei, mild; "I don't know either, and I'm mystified by it. But let them out their own thief, give our people leave to trust them that far. Please." For the rest of her advice, observations, he ends over a helpless-seeming shrug, acknowledging and probably even accepting her point, but incapable of doing anything about it, to change it. "Who am I given to trust?" There, in the calm after the near-storm, he takes a moment to accuse Shanlee with a sorrowful look in the gray eyes under the knitted-raised brows. Trust her? Who was ready to hang him out to dry?
"Within the seveday," Shanlee concedes on the Vijays outing their own thief, "Or I do it myself," absolutely serious on that. N'thei's eyes are met with solemnity then her own quickly flit away disconcerted, "I don't know," spoken quietly. A wry tone traps the next words, "If that clutchmate of yours hadn't gone and gotten himself a Weyr, I'd suggest him. Seems to be the only one that gets you." As opposed to herself who could choke him out of sheer frustration most times. "I'm of limited use, remember," dry.
N'thei starts, mouth open, as if to answer to her dry last remark. Even now, neither apology nor explanation comes when he sets his mouth to a grim smile instead. "With all haste. He'll be-- I don't know. Banished. Sent to the mines. Something fitting. Or I'll turn him over to you happily and let you flay him alive for having sticky fingers." He finds his derisive laughter again; "So much fuss over so little a thing."
"I'll be waiting," to see the thief outted. On his punishment, Shanlee listens with idle interest until her mouth curls into a dark line of delight, "Oh would you? You could make it like an early turnday gift or something." She really shouldn't be so enchanted with the idea of punishing Chedayi herself, but what can we say. N'thei's laughter draws a rueful smile, "Aye, well. You went and got yourself all prickly and growly over it all. Should try letting me in on what goes on in that head of yours sometimes." And she was innocent in all that had just gone by.
That last is at least an easy one to answer: "No. You want everything to be so..." N'thei waves his fingers to account for everything that just happened, the whole drama of it, ending with a shrug that can't come up with words. "Everyone, including this boy, will get what they deserve for their part in this mess. Rest assured."
Shanlee lifts a querying brow to end N'thei's sentence, "So sensible?" Green eyes narrow a moment at his last, "Define, everyone."
"Mmn?" N'thei questions her intent there, like he can't fathom why Shanlee would seek to have things spelled out for her. "Ah yes, mostly the boy. Will have to talk to Rajiv about how long it took to find this criminal, of course." He ends on a shrug, an elucidating smile, the whole of it.
Sounding quite convincing, "You made it sound like more than just that Chedayi's head would be rolling over all this is all," Shanlee shrugs easily enough. "Right then. Almighty slanging match for the sevenday concluded, one thief trussed up, your word the Vijays are gone soon, no blood shed, a pity that," the greenrider ticks off items much like a list, "I'd call that a good day's work." Strange little person that she is. Lifting a querying look up onto N'thei, "Anything else before I go break children's sandcastles apart down at the lake shore?" deadpan.
N'thei's mouth forms a little O around the words gone-soon, his eyebrows climb, okay. But no; "No. Go. Make merry in other people's misery. Far be it for me to keep you from what you do best."
The gloves tossed to the table are taken back up, shoved into a pocket and Shanlee's taking a step or two back and lending a smirk N'thei's way, "I live to inflict pain and suffering. You should try it sometime," sarcasm at its best. And then she's out of there with a toss of long braid over her shoulder with a quick clip of heels to rock.
*...her shoulder and quick clip of heels...
N'thei stays. Presumably, Rajiv will be up here to discuss meting out punishment for poor Chedayi sooner or later.
IC Date: 10/31/16
Warning: Language. --Surprise, isn't it? ;)
Could it have been staged? Could anyone have known? The very afternoon that Shanlee went barging in to the trader camp, they were all up-in-arms. Many of the Vijays were out and about for the day, week, month, trying to get in a last bit of trading before hunkering down for the winter, but there was a cluster of a dozen or so huddled around one end of the fire-pit. Rajiv was there, looking righteous, and Chedayi was there, looking lost.
And so it spun from there-- Chedayi's tent had been searched, many of the lost articles belonging to the Reaches had been located therein, and the young man was made to answer for himself with Shanlee herself there. But there was no good answer; he admitted to stealing /some/ of those things, not all oh not all even he wasn't that much of a klepto, he insisted. But Rajiv said it best-- "The proof's in the pudding, son."
As if disappointed in the young man, Rajiv lead him off with his hands bound toward one of the sturdier wagons, and the remaining Vijays stood around in various attitudes: distress, certainty, sympathy, smugness. But there was nothing more to see after that, the thief caught and "confessed," the camp trying to return to its daily routine.
By the time N'thei gets wind of the happenings, his reaction is almost rote; Wyaeth to Kaylith, << Come. >> And the man waits in the council room, hard and grim as ever, prowling at the end of the table with his arms crossed.
Features tight, a flat expression to green eyes, Shanlee enters the council room. Eyes make a sweep of the area, then land on the grim looking N'thei for a brief moment. Gloves peeling off one at a time she approaches with a sardonic, "You called?" paying more attention to the small task at hand than actually looking at the Weyrleader himself now.
"Happy?" N'thei doesn't sound it himself, sounds like the fling of accusation while he looks across the length of the council table at Shanlee, at her mild removal of gloves. Lips set to a hard line, eyes cloud-gray, he betrays his emotions, anger and irritation and disappointment, far more openly than is his norm.
Not really, but she'll push the buttons anyway, "More than," Shanlee responds through a tight smile. Reaching the lower end of the table where N'thei's got himself positioned she drops the gloves onto its top nonchalantly. With a tip of head to one side, "Pissed with me?" arms fold about herself, challenge held in her eyes.
Harsh; "Stupid question." /Stupid./ That nonchalance briefly sets N'thei to filing at his lip with his teeth, time taken to master the hateful look that hangs from Shanlee still. "We shouldn't have been involved. What were you doing there?"
Low, near derisive laughter echoes about the silent chambers, "Stupid man," she gives in return and all acts of nonchalance are wiped away. Flatly repeating next, "Shouldn't have been involved, hmm?" one step, another and she's standing right up in front of him, just out of personal space but close enough to likely rankle, "Fixing your cock-up." Blunt.
"Do you think, for a moment, that I still need you to look after me? Thread is gone, your usefulness is limited." Perhaps proximity, perhaps months of being wound spring-tight have turned N'thei's tone vicious, have given him cause to look at Shanlee with such distaste. "What were you doing there." He doesn't move to bat a lash at her, surely rankled but his stance is solid, arms crossed, shoulders square, eyes hammered to hers.
"Had bugger all to do with Thread and more about that gung-ho attitude of yours. But sure," arms unfold and hands spread outward, "if that's what lets you sleep at night. I'm of little use," bitterly sarcastic at the end there. Lips curl up into a sneer for the vicious tone and look N'thei sends her. Shanlee does manage to crack a smirk, "Catching me a thief if you must know. Chedayi, I believe his name is," watching him closely for his reaction. Now she steps back and pulls that mask of nonchalance back on, "You know, for a man who has some smart ideas, you sure make some dumb moves."
N'thei's mad, mad enough to lash out; "Because all your caution has accomplished what? My gung-ho attitude gets things done while you pass judgment without knowing sacrifice." His reaction? He leans his head back, looks up toward the ceiling for inspiration, shakes his head in frustration at Shanlee. "Good for you. I'm so fucking happy that you caught a petty fucking thief, Shanlee. Do you want a fucking prize or something?" Inspiration apparently came in the form of vitriol and profanity.
Anger flashes into green eyes, "Don't you -fucking- talk to me about sacrifice, N'thei! What have -you- personally sacrificed aside from your little stint in jail, huh? You sacrifice others on your alter of getting things done. Others, not -you-!" Jaw snapping shut, Shanlee turns her back on him, hand to forehead in extreme frustration, "I just want to know that you stop and think about the consequences sometimes. Do you? Ever? Calculated risk, mean anything to you?" The Weyrleader's last to her earns him a dark glare shot to him over her shoulder and lower toned, "Those things stolen meant something to their rightful owners. He, they," she lumps all the traders together, "had no right to them." As if suddenly struck by the idea, "Tell me. If you knew about the personals taken, would you have done something about it or continued to turn a blind eye, I wonder?"
Through gritted teeth, hard to bite back the desire to justify himself for a moment-- "So right you are. I have given nothing to see us survive, succeed." N'thei's arms stay crossed, his movements bare, but his left hand balls to a white-knuckled fist, the trace of old scars standing out even paler. "Calculated risk. Over what? Five, ten marks worth of personal shit? --They were told not to bite the hand that feeds them, they rooted out their thief, it's done. Your righteousness is tiresome."
Shanlee's jaw flexes, eyes narrowing onto N'thei as she grates out, "You really are a piece of work, you know that?" Seeing as how she's turned back to face him now, the white knuckled fist is given a short glance and she taunts, "Go on, hit me," stepping up closer enough that he could, "I'll just bet you're dying to!" challenging silence stretches out for a moment. Then brows arch upward, "It's done? No, it's only just beginning, Weyrleader." A hand slips into her jacket pocket, "You're going to tell the Vijays to pack up and leave," a folded piece of hide is extracted, "Or else all those listed here will know that you were aware of the personals taken and turned that convenient blind eye of yours and did nothing about it in the name of getting things done."
No, N'thei's not going to hit her, but his eyes fix on that piece of paper with a snap behind them, raise to Shanlee's with a slow, undaunted denial in the way he shakes his head. "You don't want to do that. Topple the kingpin, the rest will fall. Tell them I knew, tell them so did Satiet, Hayda, Milani. Apparently you." He takes a calm breath, for a man being blackmailed anyway, and fixes cold eyes back to Shanlee's narrowed ones; "Tell them I knew. They already hate me. But the rest of you?"
"Oh, I very much do," Shanlee's tone turns silky soft, "The higher you are, the harder you fall. You don't really care whether Satiet, Hayda or even Milani go down. You're just worried about your own ass. And so, here we are. Back to that old story of those sacrificial lambs that cover your butt, aren't we?" she appears almost amused if not for the cold look to her eyes. "As to me? This is one you can't finger me in seeing as how I came upon the information post thievery. See...I have the thief sitting in a wagon all bound up like a little piggy." The list is folded and put away again, "Way I see it. My name's still all shiny. How 'bout yours?"
N'thei meets the accusations solidly, wears them with the pride of squared shoulders and straight spine. "This is where we differ, I don't care about my spotless image. --I gave the Vijays the chance to find the thief in their midst on their own, the same chance I would ask for our people if we harbored a criminal unknowingly." And that's exactly the story he'll tell if this all comes to light, count on it. "/They/ caught their thief, but you have to be the one to shine, don't you."
Once again, mocking laughter spills out from Shanlee, "You really don't know a lot about traders do you?" it tapers off into, "No trader will give one of their own over, just like that," fingers snap in emphasis. "Why even Satiet didn't give our thieving heroes over did she? Not really. She gave Crom a limp-legged old man instead. So while that might wash with the lower caverns and drudges, it sure as hell don't wash with me, and I'll bet it won't with a few others either." As to shine and the capture of thieves a snort appears, "Spin it anyway you want. I don't really care. Heck, take the credit for yourself, tell everyone I was acting on your orders and what a wonderful hero you are. All I want are the personals returned and that lot out of here."
Something snaps, and N'thei unfolds his hands to slam them down on the table, a gesture of angry impotence-- he can't hit Shanlee, much as he might like, so something has to bear the weight of his frustration. "Why does it have to be black-and-white with you! Why can't you see beyond a few petty thefts!" The words are hard, but he really sounds more pleadingly frustrated than fighting mad. "I would not lead everyone that I care about into this foolishness for nothing, would not suffer everyone to hate me if I didn't believe that the ends justify the means. I swear it, Shanlee, I have made no personal gain."
True, Shanlee starts at the slam of hands to table, but she recovers and leans her own onto the table top and narrows a look up onto bronzerider, "There's a lot you don't know about me, N'thei, and aren't likely to. But I'll tell you this. I live in bloody grey!" As against black and white. Straightening and sliding hands off the table she continues, "I don't give a toss about thievery, it always has been and always will be, but there is a line I draw and don't ever step over. That's the one that speaks to personal possessions such as Viviana's necklace. That ale of L'vae's cousin?" slight shoulders shrug, "shit happens." N'thei's latter words still the tide and she cocks a guarded glance back over his way studying him for long moments of silence, "You swear that on anything you might actually hold dear?"
In bloody gray-- "Then why make this your crusade? I feel for the people who've lost things, but we stand to gain so much if we can just..." N'thei's hands slide back across the table, the squeak of sweaty palms and tense fingers. "Will swear it on whatever you want. Wyaeth's egg? My own blood? Name your noose, I'll hang myself on it." A hand smears down his face, aims to find stoic composure, straightens his collar, little things.
Shanlee falters, frowns a little and finds the grain of the table of high interest. Finally, quieter, "Because some of them were items of sentimental value and...I don't -know- alright?" a sharp exhale of breath follows. More frowning, more thinking, "Maybe because they were put to the cause without their knowledge. Or because if there's anything you need right now, it's the support and faith of those you lead. Because without that, it really doesn't matter if we lose the loyalty of those outside of this Weyr. Two hundred turns is a long, long time and dissent amongst the ranks will turn the holders against us quicker than stealing from their stores." N'thei's admission is met with a short nod, "I believe you." Then, "I also believe your intentions start out good and just...get lost somewhere along the way." Hands slide into pockets and the weyrsecond allows an ironic smile to appear, "You need to start trusting someone sooner or later. Not everyone hates you, but they're coming damn close simply because they don't understand."
N'thei, mild; "I don't know either, and I'm mystified by it. But let them out their own thief, give our people leave to trust them that far. Please." For the rest of her advice, observations, he ends over a helpless-seeming shrug, acknowledging and probably even accepting her point, but incapable of doing anything about it, to change it. "Who am I given to trust?" There, in the calm after the near-storm, he takes a moment to accuse Shanlee with a sorrowful look in the gray eyes under the knitted-raised brows. Trust her? Who was ready to hang him out to dry?
"Within the seveday," Shanlee concedes on the Vijays outing their own thief, "Or I do it myself," absolutely serious on that. N'thei's eyes are met with solemnity then her own quickly flit away disconcerted, "I don't know," spoken quietly. A wry tone traps the next words, "If that clutchmate of yours hadn't gone and gotten himself a Weyr, I'd suggest him. Seems to be the only one that gets you." As opposed to herself who could choke him out of sheer frustration most times. "I'm of limited use, remember," dry.
N'thei starts, mouth open, as if to answer to her dry last remark. Even now, neither apology nor explanation comes when he sets his mouth to a grim smile instead. "With all haste. He'll be-- I don't know. Banished. Sent to the mines. Something fitting. Or I'll turn him over to you happily and let you flay him alive for having sticky fingers." He finds his derisive laughter again; "So much fuss over so little a thing."
"I'll be waiting," to see the thief outted. On his punishment, Shanlee listens with idle interest until her mouth curls into a dark line of delight, "Oh would you? You could make it like an early turnday gift or something." She really shouldn't be so enchanted with the idea of punishing Chedayi herself, but what can we say. N'thei's laughter draws a rueful smile, "Aye, well. You went and got yourself all prickly and growly over it all. Should try letting me in on what goes on in that head of yours sometimes." And she was innocent in all that had just gone by.
That last is at least an easy one to answer: "No. You want everything to be so..." N'thei waves his fingers to account for everything that just happened, the whole drama of it, ending with a shrug that can't come up with words. "Everyone, including this boy, will get what they deserve for their part in this mess. Rest assured."
Shanlee lifts a querying brow to end N'thei's sentence, "So sensible?" Green eyes narrow a moment at his last, "Define, everyone."
"Mmn?" N'thei questions her intent there, like he can't fathom why Shanlee would seek to have things spelled out for her. "Ah yes, mostly the boy. Will have to talk to Rajiv about how long it took to find this criminal, of course." He ends on a shrug, an elucidating smile, the whole of it.
Sounding quite convincing, "You made it sound like more than just that Chedayi's head would be rolling over all this is all," Shanlee shrugs easily enough. "Right then. Almighty slanging match for the sevenday concluded, one thief trussed up, your word the Vijays are gone soon, no blood shed, a pity that," the greenrider ticks off items much like a list, "I'd call that a good day's work." Strange little person that she is. Lifting a querying look up onto N'thei, "Anything else before I go break children's sandcastles apart down at the lake shore?" deadpan.
N'thei's mouth forms a little O around the words gone-soon, his eyebrows climb, okay. But no; "No. Go. Make merry in other people's misery. Far be it for me to keep you from what you do best."
The gloves tossed to the table are taken back up, shoved into a pocket and Shanlee's taking a step or two back and lending a smirk N'thei's way, "I live to inflict pain and suffering. You should try it sometime," sarcasm at its best. And then she's out of there with a toss of long braid over her shoulder with a quick clip of heels to rock.
*...her shoulder and quick clip of heels...
N'thei stays. Presumably, Rajiv will be up here to discuss meting out punishment for poor Chedayi sooner or later.