Meetings

[begrimed]

Behind an ever traveling emerald green door (you'll find it when you really need it, but it never seems to be in the same place in the palace) lies a quaint office, often slightly ajar with a few notes of music beckoning guests inside.

In the center of the room lies an ornate cedar wood desk, cluttered but just short of messy, with various sheet music piled on top. The bookcases on each side are in a similar state, books shelved away neatly were it not for the lack of any semblance of alphabetization.

The boss of this domain can often be found with his feet up with no regard for decorum; a casual enough atmosphere for casual enough chats, surely.

Those who venture into the palace to seek out the emerald green door will find it's different than usual, sturdier, with a particularly bright sheen and emblazoned with an insignia.

The door is also always closed, though whether it's locked or not depends on when you visit.

Comments

[begrimed]

Remind me again, what part of this means we're on equal footing?

[incompletely]

Remind me again why you aren't prepared to answer questions that you're leaving trails for the answers to?

[begrimed]

[ A second passes, notable, as Hamelin is usually the type to banter back and forth effortlessly like a dance. Maybe he doesn't have a counter attack for this exact argument, or maybe—

One. A flash of silver in his hand.

Two. He smiles wide, curved and entirely wicked. ]

Because you need to earn your ending.

[ Three. The dagger flies forward with a sheen of metal, clipping the very edges of Tenn's hair and embedding itself in the wall. ]

[incompletely]

[ ...No, that is definitely an answer. Though it could have been done without the fucking dagger flying towards him, but the message is received. Loud and clear.

He's frozen in place, he can't speak. Everything he was ready to talk to Hamelin about is suddenly out the window, and Tenn finds himself turning on his heels, back facing towards him. He's tempted to take the dagger -- but what would he do with it? Lose his life, probably, that's what. So he concedes here.

From between gritted teeth, he manages: ]

We will.

[begrimed]

[ Hamelin just laughs and laughs and laughs, enough of an answer as the one he just gave. He won't make to stop Tenn and won't remark any further.

He's done enough for tonight. ]