open post.

[cniht]

OPTIONS.
1. Random scenario generator: Whatever your heart/rng's heart fancies.
2. Anything from here - ty, garregmachmod. ♥
3. Otherworldly: Let's get pretentious with it.
4. Wildcard! Do the thing freestyle, or I will. Alternatively, you can just throw a prompt at me.

Comments

[outsideer]

[ Really, Claude is all for a lively feast, but even he would admit last night had gotten a little out of hand. Having been at most tipsy for the duration of it, he had a reasonable recollection of most of it up until a certain point. Maybe the host shouldn't leave a celebration early, and maybe his position makes him the de facto host of pretty much any large event here, but said position came with responsibilities that couldn't be avoided all night. And, unfortunately, required an early morning.

Is he avoiding them now? Of course not. His position surely requires him to investigate such a serious case as this one. Wiping the tables down could even count, if one looked at the task just right, so wipe he does.

As Ingrid proposes a strategy, Claude manages to wrangle a laugh into a cough. He also, in his infinite wisdom, resists commenting on the appropriateness of their respective roles. As well as the inappropriateness of using either on Nader, the Undefeated, whose kill count is well more than twice hers Nardel, unflappable and worldly retainer that he is. Who hasn't bothered to change out of his stained tunic.

Plus, as his retainer, it isn't like they need a strategy. No, no: right now, he isn't Nardel, the retainer. He's Nardel, the witness.

Claude clears another laugh out of his throat. ]

Sounds like a plan. With your indomitable will and my winsome personality, we can't fail. I'll follow your lead, Inquisitor Galatea!

[cniht]

[ That indomitable will, as he calls it, is quickly put to work trying to look serious even as a charming moniker like Inquisitor Galatea is awarded to her. Focusing on the lingering tangles of her hangover-born headache helps. By the time she approaches Nardel, stomping righteously over, her expression has been sewn back into severity. ]

Hello, Nardel.

[ She puts quite a bit of effort in making his name sound like a threat. ]

We - my subordinate and I - [ Claude is given a quick glance ] - are trying to sort out last night's indiscretions. Please answer the following questions promptly, and understand that lying is grounds for... for execution.

[ Some part of her is aware she's taking this too far. Ingrid takes everything too far, after all. However - can she even stop now? Course correction will only weaken her position. Better to double down! Yeah. ]

First question. [ Wait, uh - ] ...Subordinate, tell him what the first question is. [ Because Ingrid has nothing. ]

[outsideer]

[ Gods help him. Even that opening, that ominous, even sinister emphasis of his name, threatens to smash Claude's tremulous facade. It both helps and hurts that Nardel remains little affected, utilizing the same mask that he does while playing retainer, which is to say, barely any mask at all. A man of his experience and temperament need only adjust by degrees to a particular flow, no matter how strong or outlandish.

He regards them with that same grin and sparkle, despite her abrasive approach, only catching that the cues have shifted into yet another layer of pretense when Ingrid calls Claude her subordinate. But what's another layer? Besides, Claude's seen Nader with his daughters enough to suspect he's reminded rather strongly of his second at just this moment.

The man makes an attempt at reining in his grin, though it clearly chomps against the bit when the question is deflected to Claude. Who props his hands on his hips, giving a decisive, stalling nod. ]

Right away, Senior Leader Inquisitor General Galatea!

[ A nice little mouthful, syllables to chew and almost smile around. ]

What exactly were you doing at half-past midnight last night?

[cniht]

[ He gives her that title; Ingrid raises her fist to her mouth, coughing into it. It wouldn't do to give them away, after all! The suppressed laugh tickles back down her chest.

It's quite strange, she thinks, wasting so much of her morning playing silly games with Claude. But it isn't like anyone would be much use after last night's festivities regardless, and finding Sylvain is important. This is what she tells herself as she recalibrates her expression, growing stony with artifice once more. ]

I was here, of course. Haven't left this spot since last night.

[ Mercifully, he doesn't mention that he and Ingrid spent over an hour drunkenly debating battle tactics until she threw up on him. Well, drunkenly on her part. Nardel definitely has the girth and experience to drink both his share and Claude's and still be solid the next day. It's... really quite impressive.

All that to say, is that Senior Leader Inquisitor General Galatea can corroborate his alibi.

She jumps back in. ]

And did you happen to see a lecherous ginger lure away an innocent priest?

[ Ingrid, what happened to 'Sylvain may be dead by Alicia's hand' ?

Nader ponders that for a second and then grins. ]

Sorry, can't say I did.

[ She glances over at Claude. Dead end? That's the message she's telepathically sending him right now. You know, with her eyebrow movements. ]