12 - Voice

[takeyouapart]

And now it's Monday.

So that was odd. The last thing I remember was being on deck - did someone bring me to the Infirmary? Stupid question. I couldn't have exactly sleepwalked there. Thanks to whoever did that. I appreciate it.

Moving on...

Oh. Reaver! I'm your new Warden. Let's have a chat.

[Warden Filter]

So, about Reaver. I'm going through

Comments

[tatty_bye]

I don't believe we've been formally introduced. Merlin, was it?

[takeyouapart]

Yeah, that's right.

Do you want to go up to the CES? Being outside always helps me think.

[tatty_bye]

Sorted with me for less than a week and I'm already being given walking privileges? Must be my birthday.

[takeyouapart]

[Merlin does not really think walking should be a privilege :c]

It's only the CES. Meet you on deck in ten minutes?

spam?

[tatty_bye]

Ten minutes, then.

[spam!]

[takeyouapart]

Which brings Merlin to the deck about five minutes later, loitering near the doors to the Warden area. By this time he's skimmed Reaver's file, catalogue of unpleasantness that it is, and he's just about managed to digest the fact that Reaver and Loki are...'intimate'. Hopefully it's not going to be something he has to address any time soon. Really, though, he wants to get a better impression of Reaver himself before doing a more thorough read of his file. With both Ethan and Cara he's concerned his initial approach was too...Warden-y. Too distant.

Although maybe in Reaver's specific case a bit of distance might not be a terrible idea.

[spam!]

[tatty_bye]

Reaver rarely gets to dress for "travel" anymore, so he seems to take advantage of the opportunity for fresh air and a change of scenery. He also has someone new to impress, and if he thrives on anything other than wine and bedroom romps, then attention is probably it. Not that he chose to go with anything particularly flamboyant or ostentatious, but it's obvious just the same that he dressed for the occasion.

As such he strolls onto the main deck and toward the Warden area, seeming to look around for his Warden, though his eye passes him more than once. It doesn't occur to him that Merlin sounded young -- he's never had to place the name with the face before, and seems a little surprised, even having spoken to him already.

Regardless of his actual age, he is quite the change from Sherlock Holmes. "So this would be Merlin, I presume," he said jovially.

[spam!]

[takeyouapart]

The fact that the man had made an effort didn't exactly pass Merlin by, but he was almost pathologically incapable of judging people based on how they dressed. He smiled.

"It would. Nice to meet you properly, Reaver." Merlin had a brief moment of concern over the other Albion's cultural mores, then mentally shrugged it off and offered a hand to shake.

[spam!]

[tatty_bye]

Reaver's smile seems artificial, masking whatever other feelings are there, but not enough that it's not obvious there's something behind the lips and teeth. "Loaded" might be a better word. It's almost like the very fact that Merlin wants to shake his hand is funny to him. All the same he takes Merlin's hand and shakes it.

"Charmed, I'm sure."

[spam!]

[takeyouapart]

He's just vaguely relieved not to have caused offence somehow. Merlin opens the door and leads them into the Enclosure, where it's a bright, hot summer's afternoon. The surroundings are the sort of countryside that could easily be either of their Albions.

"So what's it been like for you here so far? The Barge."

[spam!]

[tatty_bye]

It looks like his Albion. Smells like it. Feels like it. Uncannily so. With...decidedly fewer roads, certainly. And the same plague of difficult-to-find wild life. He can certainly hear birds, but he cannot see one in the sky. Reaver chooses not to dwell on these things. It is not Albion; he knows it is not. "Largely boring and unproductive," he says with a sort of I am so put upon drawl. "Certainly not without its seldom amusements and distractions of course. But still quite a step down from my former lifestyle."

Re: [spam!]

[takeyouapart]

That's basically the reply he was expecting; Merlin could name a dozen people from Camelot who'd give approximately the same answer even if they meant something slightly different. Including Arthur. He tucks his hands into his pockets as they walk.

"Amusements and distractions," he echoes, before he realises he doesn't necessarily need more specification than that.

[spam!]

[tatty_bye]

"Oh, the odd flood or scandal, books to read, comely persons to keep me company." A glance that could be taken as meaningful, then. "The usual."

[spam!]

[takeyouapart]

Comely persons. He just lets that one slide on by.

"You don't have a job here? It'd help with the 'boring and unproductive'."

[spam!]

[tatty_bye]

Even though he's wearing gloves he seems to be examining his nails. "I'm regrettably overqualified," he sighs.

[spam!]

[takeyouapart]

Merlin gives him a remarkably blank look. "To do what? You've got arms and legs and a brain, that makes you exactly qualified enough for most things."