When it is done
Reyce informs Laelle about Issa's pregnancy, and a few choices he has made. She leaves.
After ethics, but before their next classes could sweep them away, Reyce caught Laelle for a moment's exchange outside in the bowl. The place and time requested was a small classroom (identified as Putnam's classroom, though certainly other classes share it) in the afternoon (when neither Putnam's nor any other class would be using it) connected both to the craft hall and the bowl. The Bendenite has arrived early enough to settle himself at one of the desk's near the instructor's podium, a small book pressed open on one side of his desk and a long strip of scrappy hide held down on the other. From time to time he wedges his elbow over the book to hold it still while his stylus goes zipping over the neighboring hide, stuffing it with mathematical symbols. He is, in short, a student at his work, but his eyes still carry dark bags (evidence of restless sleep on the night prior) and there is a kind of tension in the way he sits in the chair (his back held straight even when he leans down to his homework).
Laelle is punctual as a rule and so she is now expectedly on time. She slips into the room with her usual quiet and stands just inside the entrance to look at Reyce. She has her bag with her, with seams that strain to contain the excess of books and papers from both her studies and her extra work. She keeps her fingers curled under the strap, letting them provide a scant bit of extra padding between the weight of the bag and her thin shoulder. There is something almost unnatural about the way her slender limbs can fold onto themselves. Her eyes are watchful, ready, but her expression remains a mild mask, not even showing an expectant lift of brows.
Despite Laelle's quiet, Reyce lifts his eyes the instant he hears the doorknob begin to turn, and watches the doorway until the woman herself slips through. Once she's inside, he greets her with a jerk of his chin and a quick "Hey," then turns to put away his work for the moment. The paper and stylus slip inside his book, marking the page, and then he moves it down to his lap. In contrast to her overstuffed bag, this is the only thing he has with him just now, and once he has it settled he lifts his eyes to meer her own. "Issa's pregnant. She thinks. Changes things." No preamble, no attempt to elaborate beyond simple fact. He keeps watching Laelle, and whatever his own response to this potential development may be, he masks it behind bland neutrality.
And what does Laelle do when she hears this news? Very little. Her chin lowers slightly and her eyes stay on him, her gaze darkening as it angles barely upward at him from kohl-shadows and a fringe of lashes. She stares into his neutral mask, watching for signs of changes though there appear to be none, showing him only her own watching and the hint of sharpness in her eyes that says she is not pleased by this information. It is plainly unlikely to benefit her in any way. "Tell me what the changes are." She does not ask.
Reyce does not quibble. He nods, taking a moment to compose the list inside his head. Or at least to begin composing it, for the slowness with which he pronounces his points suggests he is working on more even as he speaks them. "Going to acknowledge it. Formal, with a harper. To - keep it, it's not just paperwork. Means Issa stays around, she wants to keep it, too." He's already quite straight in his chair, but here he draws himself slightly higher, pulling his chin back as he regards her across the room and a slightly lowered angle. "Not going to leave her at the end of a turn and a half, she's just had the kid. Means a risk to my chance at Benden. I'm okay with that. Need to figure stuff out, put it aside. Don't know what happens at the end so can't promise you what I did, last time, have to cut it - this - off." Despite the syntactical shortcuts, he takes care to pronounce each word with precision, allowing him to maintain his detachment throughout.
Laelle listens to all of this with eyes that narrow slowly, the darkness encroaching. By the time he gets to the end, she lets out a short, cruel breath of a laugh. "Yes," she tells him. "Yes you do." His last words seem to be the only ones that matter. Her chin lifts again. "Let me know when it is done." She'll leave him to handle the severing of negotiations. It's his mess. She takes a step back, opens the door and slips out again as quietly as she came.
After ethics, but before their next classes could sweep them away, Reyce caught Laelle for a moment's exchange outside in the bowl. The place and time requested was a small classroom (identified as Putnam's classroom, though certainly other classes share it) in the afternoon (when neither Putnam's nor any other class would be using it) connected both to the craft hall and the bowl. The Bendenite has arrived early enough to settle himself at one of the desk's near the instructor's podium, a small book pressed open on one side of his desk and a long strip of scrappy hide held down on the other. From time to time he wedges his elbow over the book to hold it still while his stylus goes zipping over the neighboring hide, stuffing it with mathematical symbols. He is, in short, a student at his work, but his eyes still carry dark bags (evidence of restless sleep on the night prior) and there is a kind of tension in the way he sits in the chair (his back held straight even when he leans down to his homework).
Laelle is punctual as a rule and so she is now expectedly on time. She slips into the room with her usual quiet and stands just inside the entrance to look at Reyce. She has her bag with her, with seams that strain to contain the excess of books and papers from both her studies and her extra work. She keeps her fingers curled under the strap, letting them provide a scant bit of extra padding between the weight of the bag and her thin shoulder. There is something almost unnatural about the way her slender limbs can fold onto themselves. Her eyes are watchful, ready, but her expression remains a mild mask, not even showing an expectant lift of brows.
Despite Laelle's quiet, Reyce lifts his eyes the instant he hears the doorknob begin to turn, and watches the doorway until the woman herself slips through. Once she's inside, he greets her with a jerk of his chin and a quick "Hey," then turns to put away his work for the moment. The paper and stylus slip inside his book, marking the page, and then he moves it down to his lap. In contrast to her overstuffed bag, this is the only thing he has with him just now, and once he has it settled he lifts his eyes to meer her own. "Issa's pregnant. She thinks. Changes things." No preamble, no attempt to elaborate beyond simple fact. He keeps watching Laelle, and whatever his own response to this potential development may be, he masks it behind bland neutrality.
And what does Laelle do when she hears this news? Very little. Her chin lowers slightly and her eyes stay on him, her gaze darkening as it angles barely upward at him from kohl-shadows and a fringe of lashes. She stares into his neutral mask, watching for signs of changes though there appear to be none, showing him only her own watching and the hint of sharpness in her eyes that says she is not pleased by this information. It is plainly unlikely to benefit her in any way. "Tell me what the changes are." She does not ask.
Reyce does not quibble. He nods, taking a moment to compose the list inside his head. Or at least to begin composing it, for the slowness with which he pronounces his points suggests he is working on more even as he speaks them. "Going to acknowledge it. Formal, with a harper. To - keep it, it's not just paperwork. Means Issa stays around, she wants to keep it, too." He's already quite straight in his chair, but here he draws himself slightly higher, pulling his chin back as he regards her across the room and a slightly lowered angle. "Not going to leave her at the end of a turn and a half, she's just had the kid. Means a risk to my chance at Benden. I'm okay with that. Need to figure stuff out, put it aside. Don't know what happens at the end so can't promise you what I did, last time, have to cut it - this - off." Despite the syntactical shortcuts, he takes care to pronounce each word with precision, allowing him to maintain his detachment throughout.
Laelle listens to all of this with eyes that narrow slowly, the darkness encroaching. By the time he gets to the end, she lets out a short, cruel breath of a laugh. "Yes," she tells him. "Yes you do." His last words seem to be the only ones that matter. Her chin lifts again. "Let me know when it is done." She'll leave him to handle the severing of negotiations. It's his mess. She takes a step back, opens the door and slips out again as quietly as she came.