"Our navy," Such as it is. "Falls under my purview."
That she's no experience, and precious little education is apparent enough in the leeway Bonaventura receives. No, he's right about that. A life lived between forests and stone expanse: This is all well out of her way.
Her head tips aside to watch the man leave before a hand inclines. The echo of a gesture she must affect in her own offices (please, sit) reined in for acknowledgment of setting — an ally, not an underling, and within his own territory.
"If not my particular skill," Acknowledgment of that, too. The corner of her mouth twists wry. "I understand that congratulations are in order — a warship. I admit surprise that she returned to us."
His head tips to indicate the chair before the desk, but doesn't take his own seat until she's moved to do the same. In the grand scheme of respectful gestures, it may be one of the most token imaginable but if she's gotten this far - in person, no less - then maybe it counts for something against whatever other version she's already heard.
"She wasn't prepared for a real fight and her attention was turned elsewhere." It's not a humble statement; it's just the truth. The Venatori had been distracted and they'd managed to take advantage of it.
Flint pauses, a calculated hesitation. There in that high backed chair behind the desk with his elbow hooked across the arm rest, he is the picture of the man he's meant to be: Tevinter and pirate and blatantly both seemingly in defiance of the room and the city which surrounds it and the woman across the table. Maybe for the first time, he finds himself reconsidering the back room. It might be time to go back to the Walrus where he is less accessible, less present, less of a threat standing right there on the border between Inquisition territory and the rest of Kirkwall.
"From the beginning? I can diagram the action for you if you like." He twitches his finger toward the pen and paper. "It might mean more than talking through it."
"Is the beginning the point," The jut of chin forward, the deliberate prop of elbows upon desk is its own absurd little showing. None of this is meant for a threat (who has the energy) — "You believe most relevant?"
But it's a balance, isn't it? You make yourself large enough to crack between the jaws, you hope they don't bite. She indicates the page, waits. They require these ships, the men. Their use is proven. And they might be more useful, still, in the enemies they've made. There are rivals enough to see value in a few necks.
So much for an hour lost to walking the Commander through ship to ship tactics. Which is a shame; he would have liked to have it. Sometimes a long, dull conversation diagrammed onto paper is the exact thing to lull a particular kind person into little more than a brusque account of the rest. Coupe evidently isn't that particular kind.
Despite her indication to go on, he dispenses with the idea of pen and paper. Clearly they aren't here to go over ship to ship maneuvering or to debate the loss of the trade ship.
"If we're discussing the events as they occured, then yes. I believe the beginning would be tactically relevant."
Less so if she'd rather go over the aforementioned object of distraction.
“Those tactics the Inquisition employs do not begin and end at sea.”
As he obviously knows. Having started half a rebellion over it. Fingers
splay briefly, recurl.
“I return for Minrathous within a day — perhaps two — bearing the advice
and demands of a man in no position to give either." Flint's own place may
go unspoken: She wouldn't be here for one if not an attempt to placate the
other. "Decisions need be made. I would know what stayed your hand.”
Edited (Email icons come on dw) 2018-10-08 19:05 (UTC)
If the barb of that unspoken point finds him, it shows only in a flickering shift in his browline, some there and gone uncalculated tension at the corner of his pale eyes. But he doesn't glance past her to be certain of the door or the noise from the tavern's main room; his concerns about being overheard in this place largely have to do with what whispers might find their way back to the woman in this room and others like her.
"I'm sure you've heard all manner of reasons for why we came here, but you should know that it wasn't with the intention of making some new enemy." As it turns out, they have more than enough of those. "The Inquisition's fight, what Orlais is facing, what we've come from - they're the same war. Staying my hand"--to borrow her words--"on the condition that our guest be conveyed here in secret and that his presence continue in that vein until a more permanent decision could be made seemed like the most rational way to demonstrate my commitment to that."
He could leave it there.
"Had that not been the compromise on offer or if I didn't think someone in a position to influence that more permanent solution could be made to see reason with regard to the danger he represents to our ability to fight this shared war, then I imagine we'd be having this conversation under different circumstances."
In whatever moldering dungeon that must sit under the Gallows, for example.
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no subject
That she's no experience, and precious little education is apparent enough in the leeway Bonaventura receives. No, he's right about that. A life lived between forests and stone expanse: This is all well out of her way.
Her head tips aside to watch the man leave before a hand inclines. The echo of a gesture she must affect in her own offices (please, sit) reined in for acknowledgment of setting — an ally, not an underling, and within his own territory.
"If not my particular skill," Acknowledgment of that, too. The corner of her mouth twists wry. "I understand that congratulations are in order — a warship. I admit surprise that she returned to us."
Pirates are risk enough.
"I've interest in your version of events."
no subject
His head tips to indicate the chair before the desk, but doesn't take his own seat until she's moved to do the same. In the grand scheme of respectful gestures, it may be one of the most token imaginable but if she's gotten this far - in person, no less - then maybe it counts for something against whatever other version she's already heard.
"She wasn't prepared for a real fight and her attention was turned elsewhere." It's not a humble statement; it's just the truth. The Venatori had been distracted and they'd managed to take advantage of it.
Flint pauses, a calculated hesitation. There in that high backed chair behind the desk with his elbow hooked across the arm rest, he is the picture of the man he's meant to be: Tevinter and pirate and blatantly both seemingly in defiance of the room and the city which surrounds it and the woman across the table. Maybe for the first time, he finds himself reconsidering the back room. It might be time to go back to the Walrus where he is less accessible, less present, less of a threat standing right there on the border between Inquisition territory and the rest of Kirkwall.
"From the beginning? I can diagram the action for you if you like." He twitches his finger toward the pen and paper. "It might mean more than talking through it."
no subject
But it's a balance, isn't it? You make yourself large enough to crack between the jaws, you hope they don't bite. She indicates the page, waits. They require these ships, the men. Their use is proven. And they might be more useful, still, in the enemies they've made. There are rivals enough to see value in a few necks.
"The object of her attention being as it may."
no subject
Despite her indication to go on, he dispenses with the idea of pen and paper. Clearly they aren't here to go over ship to ship maneuvering or to debate the loss of the trade ship.
"If we're discussing the events as they occured, then yes. I believe the beginning would be tactically relevant."
Less so if she'd rather go over the aforementioned object of distraction.
no subject
“Those tactics the Inquisition employs do not begin and end at sea.”
As he obviously knows. Having started half a rebellion over it. Fingers splay briefly, recurl.
“I return for Minrathous within a day — perhaps two — bearing the advice and demands of a man in no position to give either." Flint's own place may go unspoken: She wouldn't be here for one if not an attempt to placate the other. "Decisions need be made. I would know what stayed your hand.”
but wallace shawn tho
"I'm sure you've heard all manner of reasons for why we came here, but you should know that it wasn't with the intention of making some new enemy." As it turns out, they have more than enough of those. "The Inquisition's fight, what Orlais is facing, what we've come from - they're the same war. Staying my hand"--to borrow her words--"on the condition that our guest be conveyed here in secret and that his presence continue in that vein until a more permanent decision could be made seemed like the most rational way to demonstrate my commitment to that."
He could leave it there.
"Had that not been the compromise on offer or if I didn't think someone in a position to influence that more permanent solution could be made to see reason with regard to the danger he represents to our ability to fight this shared war, then I imagine we'd be having this conversation under different circumstances."
In whatever moldering dungeon that must sit under the Gallows, for example.