thefirstemperor | IC Inbox

"I'm less worried about the admiral than I am about helping you out, right now," B shrugs. Fou-Lu is his friend, or close to it. Maybe the guy's a little weird, but B's pretty weird, himself. And most importantly, Fou-Lu lost two of his people just last month. B's not sure how many other people he has. "Nobody gets better in this place without people on their side."

He looks unconvinced, despite the fact that the first he's given any significant thought to getting out of here at all was at the behest of one of those people. He'd still rather dismember the admiral and commandeer the ship, but having been presented no opportunities, he would accept a release, at this point.

"The place is what it ever was."

"Yeah, and I know you're not big on talking," B agrees. "I don't know if any of your other wardens have tried much. But if you'd rather. I'm happy just dispensing cocoa and music and getting you things, if there's anything you need."

Though coaxing Fou-Lu into talking might be a positive step. He only remembers doing it well right before he left, last time. When they had to get some things out into the air because he didn't think there'd be another chance. Sadly, B is not great at coaxing people to do anything.

"Tried what?" He's been here the better part of a year and he has no idea what wardens are actually supposed to do. Not much, that he's seen. Get into fractious arguments with their inmates over odd things. Pester them occasionally, but he's not sure with what. The whole setup has always struck him as unpleasant and awkward for everyone involved. "My needs are naught here, barring excessive injuries, and of those I canst easily divest myself within a few days."

"Tried helping," B shrugs. "There's more to needs than just. Not being injured. Took me a while to figure that out, but it's still as true for you as it was for me. Maybe you need somebody to make you try something new at the dining hall. Or to let you program something from home in the Enclosure. Or just cheer you on at pinball."

He... hopes the guy still plays. Even if it hadn't even been a week that he was gone, it still feels like years.

He senses, dimly, that B is trying to be evocative, so he resists the urge to respond to the specific examples rather than the whole. However tempting it would be to say that he doesn't really eat, he makes plenty of use of the enclosure, and he hardly needs to be cheered on a silly diversion. In an attempt at actually engaging, which shows a little progress of a kind, he answers instead, "Such things come easily enough without the admiral's shackles wrapped about the alliance."

"They can," he agrees, though frankly he doesn't know Fou-Lu doesn't eat. "But sometimes there's not a lot of people who make the effort to be there."

And two of Fou-Lu's people who did make the effort are gone, now. B isn't going to specifically bring that up, but he also doesn't want to leave the guy with nobody. "I'd be here for you, warden or not. But since I am, might as well use that to help, if I can."

And now he's uncomfortable. Please stop. "Even if one didst wish to dance to the admiral's tune--" He's maybe open to the possibility now, but he's not eager. "I've no violence planned, nor any petty wish I wouldst see fulfilled. Thy intervention in any wardenly capacity is not wanted."

You're missing the point here, pal. But B is well-versed enough in discomfort that he's not going to harp on it, either. Maybe he's a little worried that his new status is going to fuck over the friendship they had, now, though.

All he says is, "Yeah, it's been a long time since you've killed anyone. I'm not really worried about it." And he physically leans back a little, trying to subtly show he's not aiming to get in Fou-Lu's space in any way, here. "And I can leave you alone this month if you'd rather. But if it were me, I'd kind of hope nothing has to change."

As soon as it's clear he's willing to back off the topic, Fou-Lu relaxes. Well. He never relaxes. But he stops being deliberately tense. "I've no concern for it if thou hast not." The admiral throwing a meaningless official title between them isn't his problem if it's not going to be a problem for B.

Better than nothing, he supposes. He dredges up half a smile, though, and says, "You really don't like him, huh. The Admiral." He supposes he can't really blame the guy. A lot of people on this ship don't.

Fou-Lu is trying to be agreeable (yes, this is him trying), but he really can't help the eyebrow raise that earns. "I do not." Sort of a non-response, but there's nothing more polite he can say, because emperors do not say things like of-fucking-course not.

B smiles a bit at the expression. "Yeah, okay, dumb question. I just. I'm curious why. Everybody has their own reasons, seems like. And they're not all 'because he turns us into other people sometimes'." Which is pretty much B's biggest reason. Though he's maybe a little less angry at the admiral than some of the others around here, himself.

Fou-Lu hasn't found himself particularly bothered by those transformations, in point of fact. Perplexing, but he's familiar with the idea of multiple worlds and lives. What's self-evident to him is the confinement. "To be taken against our will and bound into shadows of ourselves, promised release at his whim alone?" Duh, he would say, if he said things like that.

B shrugs a bit. "That was my life before I came here. I guess I never got quite as mad about it, when it felt like too much freedom." He considers a moment, then offers, "Being here means that you're not forced to do whatever the people in your world wanted out of you, though. And when you graduate, you don't even have to go back there unless you want to."

He waves a dismissive hand. "I've no place left there, nay, plans are laid." In the event that he does leave the way the admiral wants him to. "But there be a price I wouldst be loath to pay, had I any choice in the matter. As I do not? It rankles."

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