Dec 10, 2008 20:12
The note had politely advised him that a meeting would be prudent, and Gabriel Tam learned some time ago not to disregard this particular individual's recommendations.
As a result, this evening finds him ensconced in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, reading a newspaper while he waits.
simon tam,
galadan,
mary lennox,
gabriel tam
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The Wolflord, however, is far more fastidious than that. Or so appearances would suggest.
"Ah. Gabriel. I trust you are here on business, at the moment?"
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"You might indeed, given the communique I received." He gestures to a nearby chair, then signals for waitstaff.
"What's your pleasure?"
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"Wine, I believe, will serve well enough. I leave the particular vintage up to you."
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"Matters have not been ill, I may hope?"
He's fairly certain he'd have heard, if that had been the case.
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Galadan understates the case. A little. Gushing is not in his idiom.
"I do think, however, that it may be time to reassign responsibilities among your security staff, as it were."
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Ever the politician, ever the businessman, it doesn't take him longer than an instant to catch the weight in Galadan's seemingly innocuous words.
"Is that so?"
A beat.
"And what would you recommend?"
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One corner of his mouth quirks upward.
"It has recently been brought home to me that I have been remiss in my duties in Fionavar. Time passes more swiftly there than here, and I have been absent for--a good few years. Given that I should hate to have to put down a full scale rebellion any time soon--the time for action would seem to be now."
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He mulls that over for a few moments, although there's really only one response he can give.
"That's certainly understandable, although I hate to lose you. It's nothing too serious yet, I may hope?"
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His smile is a spare thing, and full of teeth.
"I rather suspect that I will be set upon not long after my return."
He welcomes it, in some ways. It has been long and long since Galadan has felt the tearing of flesh between his teeth.
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"I don't suppose there's anything I can do to assist?"
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And Galadan's voice, when he speaks, is dry as bone--
"The politics of the andain run more than counter to what I suspect you may be comfortable with."
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One corner of his mouth curves ever-so-faintly upward.
"You might take pains not to overwork yourself while I am otherwise engaged."
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He means it, of course.
He always does.
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The Wolflord is transparently amused.
"Shall I wave Magda, then, and inform her of her change in status? I suspect you'll get your own message soon after--another one of our contingencies."
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