river_meimei | (no subject)

(no subject)

The Tams' house at New Mayfair is slightly less tidy than usual -- necessarily, with a reluctant invalid occupying the sitting room full-time. But the cleaners still know their job, and appearances must be kept up. Which is why the upstairs hallway, like all the rooms except the one Gabriel is more or less living out of, is still ruthlessly and tastefully tidy.

There are, of course, doors in this house that even the cleaners and security force don't know about.

Magic will do that kind of thing.

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Galadan's lips twitch.

"You might, I suppose, also have no taste. It has been known to happen."

Duh is upgraded to oh, PLEASE.

And, in what may be a fit of daring, Galadan rolls his eyes at her in turn.

River stares at him.

And then she's giggling, hair falling forward across her face as she ducks her head with laughter.

Galadan laughs, as well.

Though his is certainly far quieter than River's--and his hair is not long enough to cover his face.

More's the pity.

Silence falls soon enough, and River gets distracted at length by something on the clean tiled floor.

What it might be is hard to say, as all that's visible is off-white tile and soft blue rug under the table Galadan is sitting at.

"Nothing untoward has happened in the time I've been--otherwise occupied, I hope?"

There are ways in which River is more direct than Gabriel Tam.

At least in Galadan's opinion.

River considers that, or the floor, in silence for a few moments.

(There's Kaylee. And Simon.

But that's a somewhat different question. And Galadan's not necessarily the one to get that answer.)

"Got your dance card," she says at length, reflectively.

"He wants a waltz. Tramagnini."

Galadan's expression sharpens, even as he smiles.

"Does he, now. I confess I'm not entirely surprised."

He is silent for a moment, gaze cool and assessing.

"That was rather the point."

River's eyes slide to his, and she regards him in silence for a moment.

Softly, to the wall beyond, "Everybody's got one."

He inclines his head fractionally, still watching her.

"Occasionally more than one, I imagine."

River nods slowly, looking down at Galadan's hands again, or perhaps the air around them.

Softly, "Got rules. Too. They're wrapped in cotton."

"Everybody does," she says again, and runs a gentle hand over the smooth edge of the counter.

One corner of his mouth quirks, though his eyes are cool.

"That I will not deny. Does he?"

Galadan isn't sure.

"I didn't ask."

Absently said; River's watching her hand, slim fingers pale against the dark marble counter.

Something in his expression sharpens.

"I was unaware he had granted you the opportunity."

Taking into account where they are, and who may walk in--Galadan does not bare his teeth.

Not yet.

River glances at him swiftly, though she doesn't tense, and her hand doesn't lift from the counter.

"Yes."

"Ah."

This smile has teeth in it, and it does not last long at all.

"And did you learn anything of particular import?"

He presumes, from her reactions, that she was not harmed.

Raguel will be most unhappy, indeed, if this proves not to be the case.

River breathes in, and out.

"Plans change," she says softly. "Take a target off the board."

"He wants to dance."

"Fortunately for us all I am more than reasonably skilled in such matters."

Galadan's voice is cool, but there is a sharpness behind it, like a blade half-out of its sheath.

"I have had a great deal of practice, after all."

Unlike Gabriel.

"Which?"

It's asked with interest. Just out of curiosity; the underlying menace, which is the main point, is clear for anyone to read.

"Dancing," Galadan says quietly, one corner of his mouth quirking upward.

"And chess, such as it is."

And killing.

But that goes without saying--perhaps.

River's head cocks like a bird's.

"Scrabble." It's halfway between statement and question; her tone of voice is often a few steps sideways from normal.

And again Galadan's smile is small--and sharp.

"It will do for the opening measure."

"Gonna be careful," River says softly.

It's not so much Galadan's health and well-being she's talking about.

(It's not so much Raguel's, either.)

"I am not particularly prone to being a hot-headed fool."

Not since Lisen, at the least.

And this is--not as much like that as it might be.

"And I gave your father my word."