Roy's last interaction with Daud left a sour taste in his mouth; he almost had every intention of forgetting the man even existed until word of the watch reached his ears, and then he remembered that Daud was an impossible person to forget and that he had a debt to settle and that certain responsibilities ranked higher than maintaining petty quabbles.
He tries to be subtle, but of course he isn't. He waits by Daud's door for the better half of a day, dipping into night, nibbling at his lip and swinging his legs over the rusty metal bar that apparently qualifies as a balcony. And he almost considers forgetting this terrible idea, until it's too late. Until he sees the man ambling up the steps with that stiff, familiar gait, and realizes there's no turning back now.
He ducks his head at once. Roy has to start this interaction off right -- by expressing humility, something that never comes naturally to the General.]
...hey.
[Literally nothing else, not quite yet. He needs to assess if Daud is willing to speak at all, or if his middle finger will do all the talking for him.]
There's the edge of a moment where Daud pauses, assessing the scene and caught by some spiraled impression he can't name and doesn't care to acknowledge. Since the attack (no, since that disastrous patrol), he's mostly kept Roy out of his head. Yes, he'd done some listening around, maybe a little asking around, just to make certain the man had survived the Strix. That had been it. Daud had had plenty of other concerns to busy himself with, after all. And really, it'd been easier to avoid even the idea of the man.
But here he is, head low, saying precious little, looking as if he's been waiting.
There's a thought: This means trouble.
A thought: Daud doesn't want to deal with this. He never should have returned to his room.
A thought: At least the man's still in (more or less?) one piece.
Eyes on Roy, he approaches and stops near his door, key clutched too tightly in-hand. Just get through this. Let the man say what he wants, don't let it get to you (it shouldn't; it's absurd that Roy had gotten to him), and be finished with whatever this is meant to be. ]
Looks like you managed to get yourself in front of that mirror, huh?
[On the surface, it's standard Roy speak, meant to poke though not provoke -- but the undertones are obvious, scrawled across his expression. I was worried about you, it reads. And I'm glad I worried for nothing. I'm glad you survived to look at any mirror at all.
Roy steps forward and leaves that aisle of safety, well-aware of the risks involved with approaching an angry man.]
I was an ass. A complete and utter ass, and I regret every second of it. Every syllable. I regret it, and it was wrong, and I'm sorry.
[When in doubt: apologize, apologize, apologize. His voice strains over those last few words, not out of reluctance, but out of honest grief.]
I'm not here to kiss your ass or make excuses. I need to get better -- and I'm asking you to help me.
Is he entirely serious? Daud’s first instinct is that it has to be a show. After the outbursts Roy’d thrust his way and the fervor with which they’d been given, this intensity of apology seems unlikely, maybe impossible.
Only there’s the way Roy so often careens to extremes (and isn’t that familiar?). There are the signs in his posture, and there’s the seeming sincerity in his voice. There’s the way he’d delivered that opening sentence, what could have read as accusation but seemed instead a cover for - truly? - concern. He might be speaking truth. The bastard might actually be speaking truth.
It’s puzzling.
It’s puzzling, and it’s been a long and ragged week, and what does that mean, ’I need to get better’? At keeping his mouth shut? At climbing? At killing.
…..well.
This apology - if it counts as an apology - doesn’t make up for the headache Roy had caused. The way a night of surveying had gone so swiftly sour. Doesn’t make up for the (not hurt, just) irritation Daud had nursed after.
Not does it make up for the fact that there were points Roy may have been right about. Doesn’t change the way they’ve wormed into his memory, arising when he dares to stop in silence. ]
[Well... technically, he did answer Daud's question. Just not in great detail, instead relying on a blindingly intense look to carry his message through.]
He still doesn't know what to do with the apology or its seeming sincerity, nor with the sense that in an instant, Roy could be back to snarling, hurling supposed truths (some actual truths) and playing the righteous, wounded one. (It's nothing Daud can't handle. It's tiresome, but hasn't he met with worse?) ]
[Around dusk, a neatly folded envelope arrives for Daud in his inbox. There's a simple letter inside, and it reads as follows:
"Hey, it's Roy. I've got some information you might be interested in. Got a new place, too, so wanna help me break it in? Some wine to sweet the deal should do nicely. I'll be waiting at II-D, Mercury. Hope to see you there."
It's sealed with a bold black 'R'. Perhaps to be expected of the mark of a General.]
[ He doesn't like the vagueness of the message, nor the fact that Roy hadn't simply brought his information to Daud. Now if Daud wants the information - which may or may not be worth his while (probably worth his while; probably also going to take work to draw out of Roy) - he has to trek across the compound to claim it. Not that that's so much to ask, but Daud has work of his own to manage, and the minor inconvenience gains a frown and a furrowed brow.
Still. Better not to put it off, and he has a span of time open before he needs to check on the watch. Placing the note in his pouch, Daud makes his way to the designated apartment. (And how had Roy come into this new room? If it's truly his. If he hasn't simply commandeered it for the sake of drama or who knows what.) Without hesitation he knocks on the door once, twice; waits. ]
[Roy calls promptly from the foyer, sitting behind a furnished desk. If Daud prods, he'll find the door swings right open, and the smiling face of Roy Mustang is there to greet him in his spiffy new digs. A fancy new room, with plenty of space for... friends? Sure, that's what they are, right?
As promised, there's two filled glasses waiting, and a cheap -- if pleasant -- chair for Daud to join him.]
[ The set-up is eerily reminiscent of meetings conducted in the chamber of one aristocrat or another. Often they’d held court behind their desk, some attempting to ply him with drink, others watching Daud as if he were an especially virulent rat. As long as they’d had coin to back their demands, none of that had mattered.
And, yes, that’s all in the past. He knows this isn’t the same thing, but he can’t shake the trace of that sensation. It’s what leaves him a little tense as he approaches Roy and takes the open seat.
Flicking a glance over the wine, he gestures to the room around. ]
When did this happen?
Edited (a very important change of like three words damn) 2018-07-03 03:10 (UTC)
[Sasha yawns in the corner, settled on a few pieces of cardboard shambled together to form a makeshift bed. Roy looks to Daud with calmness in his eyes, a settled man since their last meeting.]
Not too shabby, I presume? Or at least up to your impeccable standards.
[ And the dog’s here. Of course the dog’s here. Well. So long as she doesn’t start yapping or playing friendly with Daud, it’s no matter.
’Just when I found some spare time.’ It’s precisely the sort of non-answer Daud’s come to expect from Roy, or from a certain span of the man’s moods. Something to come back to later, maybe. Daud offers a pointed, almost weary stare before giving the room a more careful look. It could be called an improvement, certainly. More spacious. Constructed or maintained with more care.
[ Assuming he hasn't been turned into some unfortunate insect after his latest prayer to Minerva, Will will be sending a note under Daud's door at some insanely hour of the morning. ]
[ He doesn't care for the vague nature of the note, discovered upon returning from a long night's wandering. (No, not even wandering; nearly half the night had been spent crouched on a single rooftop, staring out across the city without seeing much at all.) He'd rather know what the man wants him for, whether it's worth his time, whether finding Will ought to be a priority (whatever he wants can't be that important; Daud doubts it, anyway).
It's unfortunate that the only way to discern is to seek out the man. To keep an eye out for him, at least, and Daud spends the better part of a day half-watching for Will. Finally tiring of this half-measure, he opts for a direct approach, heading for Minerva's insula. He'd heard that Will's changed rooms, but it doesn't take long to determine which is his. Once in front of the door, Daud knocks twice - clean and solid, sharp sounds - then waits, arms folded. ]
[ It takes a few beats for the door to open, but not so long as to suggest that Will had been asleep. Opening the door, he blinked as he recognized Daud's face, then stepped back into the room, leaving the door open in an unspoken invitation. ]
Thank you for stopping by, I don't expect this to take long. [ He pauses by a chair and then motions a hand towards it. ]
I'm attempting to take my own advice. [ And from his tone he doesn't like it. ]
[ It occurs to Daud - just vaguely - that this is the first time he's entered one of Will's rooms by invitation and not via lock-pick. More clearly, he takes a look at Will and numbers him among the handful (couple handfuls?) of arrivals who catch the bare minimum of sleep, if that. Which isn't especially surprising, given what he remembers of the man, the guarded twitchiness Will bore.
Scanning the room as he enters, Daud takes the offered seat, takes another look at Will. Seeks any clues of what the man wants or how he's been faring. He won't argue if the conversation's kept short; there's work to be done, and Daud's rarely been one to extend speech beyond what's necessary. ]
[ Lock-pick or window? He appreciates that Daud hasn't invaded his privacy. Or rather if the man has he'd been more careful in the act.
Walking over to the chair across from the one Daud occupied, Will took a seat and leaned back. He looked probably along the lines of how he'd looked the last time they'd spoken. Dark hollows under his eyes, gaunt cheeks and scruffy jaw. A healing wound on his head, just below the hairline and an air of resignation to it all.
But despite all that, there was a sharpness -a sense of curiosity- in his tired eyes. Will didn't waste time in pleasantries, but rather launched straight to the point. ]
I recently found myself sug ... [ he paused and changed his wording to take into account what Xu Shu had said at the end of their brief conversation. ] Encouraging a man to pursue what he already knows is a necessary course of action. Namely a collaboration of our strategically minded members to come together and help build tactics that will help best utilize our gifts and skills.
Upon reflection, I believe there is a need for a similar collaborative effort among those of us who have a knack for observation and investigation.
[ Pausing, Will drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. ]
Trust is not the easiest path in these particular circles, but I believe knowledge is going to become as vital to us all as our weapons and skills.
[ A master assassin never reveals his secrets, Will.
But it's true Daud hadn't attempted to enter Will's new room. Had refrained from making impromptu room checks since the first couple of weeks after arriving. It hadn't struck Daud as necessary or useful; there were other ways of garnering information on his fellow arrivals now. Other ways that carried no potential of being caught in the act and creating prohibitory rifts.
Daud's own expression was more worn than usual, a reflection of recent internal conflicts and too many nights of minimal sleep. Still, he listened close, cataloguing the information itself as well as the ways the man spoke, the words he chose to use. It all meant something, told a little more about who this man was.
The ideas proposed seemed sound enough, if incomplete. He didn't wonder far why Will would have come to him with this, knew the man had caught him in the midst of Daud's own investigations, knew there was no way of hiding some talents and tendencies. A question is who else Will had spoken to, who else he intended to speak with. And what he planned to do with the information. ]
You're right about knowledge. Information's a hard commodity to come by here. We need every piece we can find.
[ And they needed to make sure the right people had access to it. Needed to find ways of sharing what fragments they could wrangle. ]
( river finds him in the complex in the middle of one of his patrols. it's days after their last conversation, though she's not entirely certain how many -- the first few in her hungover haze were terrible and embarrassing, the few after that she'd still avoided most people, training, figuring out what she'd done and where to go next.
most of the time she'd spent trying to avoid what she'd done or said but there was one conversation that she couldn't.
when river finds him she grabs his arm, pulling him to a part of the complex that's a little quieter )
[ he doesn't appreciate this. doesn't care for the unexplained intrusion or the hand on his arm, the sudden force with which she draws him from his path.
over the past several days, he's seen her only in glimpses. hasn't attempted to get hold of her, nor thought that he had reason to do so. there were questions their previous encounter had planted, true, but he knows better than to expect direct answers from her. supposes that prying would only send her further away.
now here she is, bent on some mission or another. when she's finally slowed, he jerks his arm away, looks her over. ]
( river looks around before speaking again, letting her hand drop from his arm. she folds her arms, keeping a careful watch on him for his reactions )
You seemed to have that opinion the other night. ( though for the most part, river hadn't been that disagreeable about answering. until the end ) And unfortunately that's not something you can un-hear.
[ well. makes sense that that's what this is about. he watches her closely, a little coldly, decides he knows precisely which something she's talking about. ]
Isn't it.
It mattered that much.
[ it's partly a question, partly a challenge, a note of irritation winding through his words. he didn't ask for her to interrupt his patrol. didn't ask to be dragged across the void-forsaken courtyard. and he's not going to hide the annoyance he feels. ]
( oh, he's annoyed? river notes it and his reaction does nothing to ease her own feelings -- embarrassment hidden by annoyance coming out in a little aggression.
she sighs, letting her arms fall by her side. that response isn't going to help this conversation )
Yes, it does.
( and there it is. true honesty -- sober honesty. better than anything she'd given him whilst she'd been drunk )
this is different. this is... a change, and the surprise of it dissipates this irritation. maybe this isn't going to be some sort of combative lecture, after all. maybe there's something else at work.
daud takes a moment to fold his arms and study her, trying to piece out the meaning of this change and what's coming. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
BREAKS THIS SUCKER IN. Also, action! (And dated to post-owls, post-watch announcement.)
Roy's last interaction with Daud left a sour taste in his mouth; he almost had every intention of forgetting the man even existed until word of the watch reached his ears, and then he remembered that Daud was an impossible person to forget and that he had a debt to settle and that certain responsibilities ranked higher than maintaining petty quabbles.
He tries to be subtle, but of course he isn't. He waits by Daud's door for the better half of a day, dipping into night, nibbling at his lip and swinging his legs over the rusty metal bar that apparently qualifies as a balcony. And he almost considers forgetting this terrible idea, until it's too late. Until he sees the man ambling up the steps with that stiff, familiar gait, and realizes there's no turning back now.
He ducks his head at once. Roy has to start this interaction off right -- by expressing humility, something that never comes naturally to the General.]
...hey.
[Literally nothing else, not quite yet. He needs to assess if Daud is willing to speak at all, or if his middle finger will do all the talking for him.]
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There's the edge of a moment where Daud pauses, assessing the scene and caught by some spiraled impression he can't name and doesn't care to acknowledge. Since the attack (no, since that disastrous patrol), he's mostly kept Roy out of his head. Yes, he'd done some listening around, maybe a little asking around, just to make certain the man had survived the Strix. That had been it. Daud had had plenty of other concerns to busy himself with, after all. And really, it'd been easier to avoid even the idea of the man.
But here he is, head low, saying precious little, looking as if he's been waiting.
There's a thought: This means trouble.
A thought: Daud doesn't want to deal with this. He never should have returned to his room.
A thought: At least the man's still in (more or less?) one piece.
Eyes on Roy, he approaches and stops near his door, key clutched too tightly in-hand. Just get through this. Let the man say what he wants, don't let it get to you (it shouldn't; it's absurd that Roy had gotten to him), and be finished with whatever this is meant to be. ]
Roy.
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[On the surface, it's standard Roy speak, meant to poke though not provoke -- but the undertones are obvious, scrawled across his expression. I was worried about you, it reads. And I'm glad I worried for nothing. I'm glad you survived to look at any mirror at all.
Roy steps forward and leaves that aisle of safety, well-aware of the risks involved with approaching an angry man.]
I was an ass. A complete and utter ass, and I regret every second of it. Every syllable. I regret it, and it was wrong, and I'm sorry.
[When in doubt: apologize, apologize, apologize. His voice strains over those last few words, not out of reluctance, but out of honest grief.]
I'm not here to kiss your ass or make excuses. I need to get better -- and I'm asking you to help me.
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Is he entirely serious? Daud’s first instinct is that it has to be a show. After the outbursts Roy’d thrust his way and the fervor with which they’d been given, this intensity of apology seems unlikely, maybe impossible.
Only there’s the way Roy so often careens to extremes (and isn’t that familiar?). There are the signs in his posture, and there’s the seeming sincerity in his voice. There’s the way he’d delivered that opening sentence, what could have read as accusation but seemed instead a cover for - truly? - concern. He might be speaking truth. The bastard might actually be speaking truth.
It’s puzzling.
It’s puzzling, and it’s been a long and ragged week, and what does that mean, ’I need to get better’? At keeping his mouth shut? At climbing? At killing.
…..well.
This apology - if it counts as an apology - doesn’t make up for the headache Roy had caused. The way a night of surveying had gone so swiftly sour. Doesn’t make up for the (not hurt, just) irritation Daud had nursed after.
Not does it make up for the fact that there were points Roy may have been right about. Doesn’t change the way they’ve wormed into his memory, arising when he dares to stop in silence. ]
‘Every syllable.’
[ He sounds doubtful. ]
I don’t know what you’re asking. What you want.
[ True and not. ]
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[Well... technically, he did answer Daud's question. Just not in great detail, instead relying on a blindingly intense look to carry his message through.]
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He still doesn't know what to do with the apology or its seeming sincerity, nor with the sense that in an instant, Roy could be back to snarling, hurling supposed truths (some actual truths) and playing the righteous, wounded one. (It's nothing Daud can't handle. It's tiresome, but hasn't he met with worse?) ]
Why would I do that.
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[Alright, fine, he'll give a little more here.]
So you can look at me, and... see someone to be proud of. That my men, my country, and my world can be proud of.
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cw: reference to violence against children / war crimes
cw: reference to violence against children / war crimes
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Action; note left at the door.
"Hey, it's Roy. I've got some information you might be interested in. Got a new place, too, so wanna help me break it in? Some wine to sweet the deal should do nicely. I'll be waiting at II-D, Mercury. Hope to see you there."
It's sealed with a bold black 'R'. Perhaps to be expected of the mark of a General.]
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Still. Better not to put it off, and he has a span of time open before he needs to check on the watch. Placing the note in his pouch, Daud makes his way to the designated apartment. (And how had Roy come into this new room? If it's truly his. If he hasn't simply commandeered it for the sake of drama or who knows what.) Without hesitation he knocks on the door once, twice; waits. ]
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[Roy calls promptly from the foyer, sitting behind a furnished desk. If Daud prods, he'll find the door swings right open, and the smiling face of Roy Mustang is there to greet him in his spiffy new digs. A fancy new room, with plenty of space for... friends? Sure, that's what they are, right?
As promised, there's two filled glasses waiting, and a cheap -- if pleasant -- chair for Daud to join him.]
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And, yes, that’s all in the past. He knows this isn’t the same thing, but he can’t shake the trace of that sensation. It’s what leaves him a little tense as he approaches Roy and takes the open seat.
Flicking a glance over the wine, he gestures to the room around. ]
When did this happen?
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Oh, y'know. Just when I found some spare time.
[Sasha yawns in the corner, settled on a few pieces of cardboard shambled together to form a makeshift bed. Roy looks to Daud with calmness in his eyes, a settled man since their last meeting.]
Not too shabby, I presume? Or at least up to your impeccable standards.
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’Just when I found some spare time.’ It’s precisely the sort of non-answer Daud’s come to expect from Roy, or from a certain span of the man’s moods. Something to come back to later, maybe. Daud offers a pointed, almost weary stare before giving the room a more careful look. It could be called an improvement, certainly. More spacious. Constructed or maintained with more care.
Still. ]
Seems unnecessary.
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Daud,
I have something I'd like to discuss with you.
w. graham
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It's unfortunate that the only way to discern is to seek out the man. To keep an eye out for him, at least, and Daud spends the better part of a day half-watching for Will. Finally tiring of this half-measure, he opts for a direct approach, heading for Minerva's insula. He'd heard that Will's changed rooms, but it doesn't take long to determine which is his. Once in front of the door, Daud knocks twice - clean and solid, sharp sounds - then waits, arms folded. ]
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Thank you for stopping by, I don't expect this to take long. [ He pauses by a chair and then motions a hand towards it. ]
I'm attempting to take my own advice. [ And from his tone he doesn't like it. ]
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Scanning the room as he enters, Daud takes the offered seat, takes another look at Will. Seeks any clues of what the man wants or how he's been faring. He won't argue if the conversation's kept short; there's work to be done, and Daud's rarely been one to extend speech beyond what's necessary. ]
Which would be what?
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Walking over to the chair across from the one Daud occupied, Will took a seat and leaned back. He looked probably along the lines of how he'd looked the last time they'd spoken. Dark hollows under his eyes, gaunt cheeks and scruffy jaw. A healing wound on his head, just below the hairline and an air of resignation to it all.
But despite all that, there was a sharpness -a sense of curiosity- in his tired eyes. Will didn't waste time in pleasantries, but rather launched straight to the point. ]
I recently found myself sug ... [ he paused and changed his wording to take into account what Xu Shu had said at the end of their brief conversation. ] Encouraging a man to pursue what he already knows is a necessary course of action. Namely a collaboration of our strategically minded members to come together and help build tactics that will help best utilize our gifts and skills.
Upon reflection, I believe there is a need for a similar collaborative effort among those of us who have a knack for observation and investigation.
[ Pausing, Will drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. ]
Trust is not the easiest path in these particular circles, but I believe knowledge is going to become as vital to us all as our weapons and skills.
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But it's true Daud hadn't attempted to enter Will's new room. Had refrained from making impromptu room checks since the first couple of weeks after arriving. It hadn't struck Daud as necessary or useful; there were other ways of garnering information on his fellow arrivals now. Other ways that carried no potential of being caught in the act and creating prohibitory rifts.
Daud's own expression was more worn than usual, a reflection of recent internal conflicts and too many nights of minimal sleep. Still, he listened close, cataloguing the information itself as well as the ways the man spoke, the words he chose to use. It all meant something, told a little more about who this man was.
The ideas proposed seemed sound enough, if incomplete. He didn't wonder far why Will would have come to him with this, knew the man had caught him in the midst of Daud's own investigations, knew there was no way of hiding some talents and tendencies. A question is who else Will had spoken to, who else he intended to speak with. And what he planned to do with the information. ]
You're right about knowledge. Information's a hard commodity to come by here. We need every piece we can find.
[ And they needed to make sure the right people had access to it. Needed to find ways of sharing what fragments they could wrangle. ]
Who else are you speaking to.
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most of the time she'd spent trying to avoid what she'd done or said but there was one conversation that she couldn't.
when river finds him she grabs his arm, pulling him to a part of the complex that's a little quieter )
We need to talk.
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over the past several days, he's seen her only in glimpses. hasn't attempted to get hold of her, nor thought that he had reason to do so. there were questions their previous encounter had planted, true, but he knows better than to expect direct answers from her. supposes that prying would only send her further away.
now here she is, bent on some mission or another. when she's finally slowed, he jerks his arm away, looks her over. ]
I wasn't aware.
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( river looks around before speaking again, letting her hand drop from his arm. she folds her arms, keeping a careful watch on him for his reactions )
You seemed to have that opinion the other night. ( though for the most part, river hadn't been that disagreeable about answering. until the end ) And unfortunately that's not something you can un-hear.
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Isn't it.
It mattered that much.
[ it's partly a question, partly a challenge, a note of irritation winding through his words. he didn't ask for her to interrupt his patrol. didn't ask to be dragged across the void-forsaken courtyard. and he's not going to hide the annoyance he feels. ]
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she sighs, letting her arms fall by her side. that response isn't going to help this conversation )
Yes, it does.
( and there it is. true honesty -- sober honesty. better than anything she'd given him whilst she'd been drunk )
If you're still listening.
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this is different. this is... a change, and the surprise of it dissipates this irritation. maybe this isn't going to be some sort of combative lecture, after all. maybe there's something else at work.
daud takes a moment to fold his arms and study her, trying to piece out the meaning of this change and what's coming. ]
I'm listening.
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