Eshal is drinking tea, because that's what fuckers do here. She doesn't want to drink hard Qunari liquor in front of Yseult. It would feel more... real, though. And for some reason, authenticity seems like one of the keys to pulling Laura about.
Which is why she doesn't make apologies for pulling the girl around. "Sit where you're comfortable," Eshal says. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble."
Laura casts a significant glance in Yseult's direction at that reassurance. Her presence does not seem to suggest any truth to you're not in trouble.
But she is here, shutting the door behind her, and complying is more likely to benefit her than resisting. If she attempts to leave, she will have nothing more than she did when she started sneaking through the halls.
She sits at the edge of a chair--hands in her lap, eyes on Eshal--and waits.
"Yeah, she's making sure I'm not fucking up." Eshal gestures in Yseult's general direction. "Lucky me, I'm doing greaaat."
Sorry, Yseult, but making you into a common enemy will work a little better. in the long run. She'll explain later, if Yseult doesn't get it immediately.
Eshal pours Laura a cup of tea, because she's heard that happens in stories. Also, it's funny. "Remember the last time we talked? You only told me a little, but it helped a lot. The whole organization, all of us. I wanted to thank you."
She finishes pouring the tea, and tries to sip from her own cup. Still too hot. She fucking hates tea.
"And I'm not gonna lie, we need more information if we're gonna be able to keep helping."
Laura looks at the cup, but doesn't reach for it. She is not thirsty--and more than that, she is not interested in play-acting that she is here for anything besides answering the questions Eshal wishes to ask.
And that is why she doesn't drag out responding, even if there's a certain reluctance in the way she responds, "What do you need to know?"
She wants to be helped. She does not want that help to require answering more questions.
Eshal moves a page forward. It's the list of names that Laura's apparently killed the owners of. "Were you involved in all these people's deaths? Take your time if you need to."
Her chin drops as the paper is pushed into her line of sight. A glance at it is enough for recognition to flash in her eyes, before Eshal explains. Laura lets the question come out, but there is neither hesitation nor satisfaction when her mouth opens a fraction of a second later. "Yes."
"All of them?" Eshal says quietly. "Look, I know it's hard. I don't like thinking about the people I killed either. But I need you to check. If there's anything wrong with that list, we need to know. It'd help us a lot."
Providing the why might, too.
"We need to know if the people who sent this information are lying about anything. The way they did things is... strange. They came out of nowhere to rile us up, and they're using you to do it."
She shakes her head--no, they aren't lying--but what is required of her here is something more complicated than that. Reading over the names, she verifies that her memories of that breakfast, hearing the messenger shout out her crimes, are correct: all of these people are bodies she encountered.
"I killed them all," she finally says, her eyes still on the parchment. "I did not know all their names. But I know who they were."
The baker. The seneschal. The Chantry sister. Laura remembers all of them. Wariness has her tongue, though, even more than usual--she doesn't think to offer an explanation for it unasked. Saying anything feels dangerous just then.
Eshal can see the girl's upset, and wonders at how to soothe her. She needs to be calm as she ever is, for this to keep going.
So she nods, and moves the paper away. She'll get more on that later.
(What's eating at Laura? Guilt. How do you clear guilt? You tack out a world beyond it.)
"What do you want to do," Eshal says, "when this is over and your name is cleared? I was thinking of assigning you missions with Matthias. He's been very helpful in all this-" a chuckle in her voice, "even if he didn't know it at the time."
Laura's gaze snaps up at Matthias' name. From Eshal, she'd expected demands, perhaps accusations; they met through a punch to the face, after all, however convivial the woman can be.
She swallows her first answer, which is I am not part of Diplomacy. These assignments would not be for the benefit of Riftwatch, not primarily. If they were, they would be assigned to somebody who understood diplomacy--and neither she nor Matthias falls into that category. This is something different.
When she tries again, it is a small nod, tentative, her mouth a flat line but her eyes something like hopeful. "I will do this."
"That wasn't what I was asking," she says warmly, "but I'm glad to hear it."
Don't lay it on too thick, don't press. She sips her now-cold tea, grimaces, and sets it aside. "This stuff is shit. I dunno why people bother with it."
(Because there was a shortage and she traded some strong alcohol for a tiny bit. Curiosity might poison her.)
"You have a place here. We want to make sure we keep it that way. We met under shit circumstances, but I think your an asset. So lets talk about what we did last time. The names you gave me. Can you tell me anything else about Alexander Reis and Sarra Kint?"
No, Laura realizes, Eshal is right: she asked for something more theoretical than will you do work for me. But the real question encompasses too much. It is impossible to answer, what do you wish to do when this ends? Laura is not convinced it will. Imagining otherwise feels treacherous.
Her gaze drops to her hands, one rubbing the knuckles of the other as she thinks, trying to determine which details might help Eshal. Everyone wants more information, but they do not say which details they want. They never tell her which parts are important. "Reis put lyrium on my bones. He was a mage. My--Sarra Kint was not."
She nods slowly. "Did either of them go under any other names, that you knew of? Did they talk to people regularly, people you know the names of? Or just how they looked..."
She shakes her head once, and then again--but the last thing, she can answer that.
"Brown hair, not long. He was tall." It occurs to her that this is perhaps too generic to go by, but fortunately, describing her mother is easier. "Sarra looked like me."
That is not enough, and she knows it. With Yseult sitting in the room, there is an expectation in there with them: provide as many details as possible, without being prompted. I think you're smart enough to understand what I want to know. After a pause, her voice lowering to what's essentially a pained whisper, she adds, "I did not meet other people. But sometimes they brought people to look at me. So they could see what I was, first."
I'm so sorry, Laura. That must have been awful. But it wouldn't be genuine, and she can't risk getting caught in a lie. Instead, she expresses the real emotion-- "That's fucking sick. Shouldn't've done that to you, kid."
There's a silence, one where names should be--Laura knows that much. Identifying the people who paid Reis clearly matters, or Eshal wouldn't have brought her back to discuss it. She especially would not have invited the head of another division to listen. Perhaps attention could be shifted elsewhere, if they had their own list of names to thrust at the king of Nevarra.
"I know what they look like," she finally says. She does not look up. "I remember."
"Alright. Just try and keep that in your head. We might need it later."
She brings forth the list of names again, sliding it toward Laura on the desk. "One more thing, and then why don't you spend some time with your friends? I'll send some food down. The good kind."
Her voice is gentle, but she doesn't wink or smile. She doubts Laura would care, or trust it if she did.
"Can you write down the locations, as far as you remember them, next to these names? Where they happened, and, oh, if you saw the face of who asked for it? Just a 'yes' or 'no' will do. Leave it blank if you don't remember anything."
The kindness in the offer does not go unnoticed, and Eshal is right not to draw attention to it; as it is, Laura is not entirely sure it an be trusted. It seems unlikely that it is due to Yseult's presence, from what little Laura knows of the woman. And she has yet to think of it as a part of Eshal's nature.
But--having expected to be questioned far longer, and with less gentleness--she is disinclined to ask for explanation.
"Yes." She looks over the list one more time, then begins to write out the answers in a sharp, clear hand. (It's all in Nevarran--sorry, Eshal.) A moment or two after she starts, she pauses, however, looking up at Eshal once more. "Do you want descriptions?"
Eshal nods, and grabs another piece of paper, because she would have suggested it herself. She notices it's in Nevarran, and makes a note to add this to Fabria's docket.
"And one more thing," she says, "dates, too. Dates, locations, descriptions. As much as you can remember. Please be honest as you can. I trust you."
Yseult gives it a moment, waiting until Laura seems far enough along that the requests don't pile up at once. She's remained still and silent throughout, hands folded neatly in her lap, legs crossed at the knee, listening without visible reaction.
"We'll also need the location of Reis's house," she says now, "If you can explain it or point it out on a map." Her voice is perhaps not as gentle as Eshal's, but the difference is more in formality than in tone, a certain subtle distance maintained. "And there's a man who sometimes sketches portraits for us of suspected agents. Do you remember the faces of Reis's clients well enough to work with him to create their likenesses?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
billy crystal.
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...I will meet you there.
[And that's how she ends up sneaking out to the Diplomacy office, slipping through the door silently and awaiting orders.]
pros before hos.
Which is why she doesn't make apologies for pulling the girl around. "Sit where you're comfortable," Eshal says. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble."
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But she is here, shutting the door behind her, and complying is more likely to benefit her than resisting. If she attempts to leave, she will have nothing more than she did when she started sneaking through the halls.
She sits at the edge of a chair--hands in her lap, eyes on Eshal--and waits.
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Sorry, Yseult, but making you into a common enemy will work a little better. in the long run. She'll explain later, if Yseult doesn't get it immediately.
Eshal pours Laura a cup of tea, because she's heard that happens in stories. Also, it's funny. "Remember the last time we talked? You only told me a little, but it helped a lot. The whole organization, all of us. I wanted to thank you."
She finishes pouring the tea, and tries to sip from her own cup. Still too hot. She fucking hates tea.
"And I'm not gonna lie, we need more information if we're gonna be able to keep helping."
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And that is why she doesn't drag out responding, even if there's a certain reluctance in the way she responds, "What do you need to know?"
She wants to be helped. She does not want that help to require answering more questions.
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Providing the why might, too.
"We need to know if the people who sent this information are lying about anything. The way they did things is... strange. They came out of nowhere to rile us up, and they're using you to do it."
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"I killed them all," she finally says, her eyes still on the parchment. "I did not know all their names. But I know who they were."
The baker. The seneschal. The Chantry sister. Laura remembers all of them. Wariness has her tongue, though, even more than usual--she doesn't think to offer an explanation for it unasked. Saying anything feels dangerous just then.
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So she nods, and moves the paper away. She'll get more on that later.
(What's eating at Laura? Guilt. How do you clear guilt? You tack out a world beyond it.)
"What do you want to do," Eshal says, "when this is over and your name is cleared? I was thinking of assigning you missions with Matthias. He's been very helpful in all this-" a chuckle in her voice, "even if he didn't know it at the time."
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She swallows her first answer, which is I am not part of Diplomacy. These assignments would not be for the benefit of Riftwatch, not primarily. If they were, they would be assigned to somebody who understood diplomacy--and neither she nor Matthias falls into that category. This is something different.
When she tries again, it is a small nod, tentative, her mouth a flat line but her eyes something like hopeful. "I will do this."
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Don't lay it on too thick, don't press. She sips her now-cold tea, grimaces, and sets it aside. "This stuff is shit. I dunno why people bother with it."
(Because there was a shortage and she traded some strong alcohol for a tiny bit. Curiosity might poison her.)
"You have a place here. We want to make sure we keep it that way. We met under shit circumstances, but I think your an asset. So lets talk about what we did last time. The names you gave me. Can you tell me anything else about Alexander Reis and Sarra Kint?"
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Her gaze drops to her hands, one rubbing the knuckles of the other as she thinks, trying to determine which details might help Eshal. Everyone wants more information, but they do not say which details they want. They never tell her which parts are important. "Reis put lyrium on my bones. He was a mage. My--Sarra Kint was not."
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"Brown hair, not long. He was tall." It occurs to her that this is perhaps too generic to go by, but fortunately, describing her mother is easier. "Sarra looked like me."
That is not enough, and she knows it. With Yseult sitting in the room, there is an expectation in there with them: provide as many details as possible, without being prompted. I think you're smart enough to understand what I want to know. After a pause, her voice lowering to what's essentially a pained whisper, she adds, "I did not meet other people. But sometimes they brought people to look at me. So they could see what I was, first."
Before they paid over their coin.
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And, "did you get any of their names?"
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"I know what they look like," she finally says. She does not look up. "I remember."
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She brings forth the list of names again, sliding it toward Laura on the desk. "One more thing, and then why don't you spend some time with your friends? I'll send some food down. The good kind."
Her voice is gentle, but she doesn't wink or smile. She doubts Laura would care, or trust it if she did.
"Can you write down the locations, as far as you remember them, next to these names? Where they happened, and, oh, if you saw the face of who asked for it? Just a 'yes' or 'no' will do. Leave it blank if you don't remember anything."
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But--having expected to be questioned far longer, and with less gentleness--she is disinclined to ask for explanation.
"Yes." She looks over the list one more time, then begins to write out the answers in a sharp, clear hand. (It's all in Nevarran--sorry, Eshal.) A moment or two after she starts, she pauses, however, looking up at Eshal once more. "Do you want descriptions?"
If so, she will need more parchment.
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"And one more thing," she says, "dates, too. Dates, locations, descriptions. As much as you can remember. Please be honest as you can. I trust you."
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"We'll also need the location of Reis's house," she says now, "If you can explain it or point it out on a map." Her voice is perhaps not as gentle as Eshal's, but the difference is more in formality than in tone, a certain subtle distance maintained. "And there's a man who sometimes sketches portraits for us of suspected agents. Do you remember the faces of Reis's clients well enough to work with him to create their likenesses?"