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[thefirstemperor]

[Absolute silence. Fou-Lu does not know what an inbox is.]

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[thefirstemperor]

At least he's calmed to the point of reacting with annoyance rather than rage-flavored terror when someone is ill-judging enough to address him by his true name. He doesn't even see the point of arguing. He doesn't pay any attention to the admiral's assignments, but usually when some irritating stranger walks up to start a conversation, it's a warden thing. "Thou'lt find no grist to mill thy dealings with the admiral here," he says flatly. Fou-Lu wouldn't know a phone if it bit him, but manages to exude the aura of one who isn't looking up from their phone to answer a question.

[awpants]

"Uh... Wow, Shakespeare over here. I'm Clint. I'm here to make sure you get your fair share of things. For the next month. Maybe more if people try to push you around. What's your name, you don't go by Fou-Lu do you?" He is pretty sure he's butchering the pronunciation.

[thefirstemperor]

Someday he will need to find out who or what a Shakespeare is. "Ryong," he says flatly. It does for everyday use. "I know of the travail over food stores, but I've no need of them. And efforts have been made to end me before." A thought which seems to faintly amuse him.

[awpants]

"Well I don't want to end you," he promises. Just the opposite. "So you don't eat. What do you need?"

[thefirstemperor]

"Did thy admiral not place a firm embargo on granting fripperies?" He's a bit tired of this conversation. He doesn't need anything but the admiral's head. Fine. But there's nothing to spare to even attempt to bribe his compliance with.

[awpants]

"Yeah...I wasn't talking about-" he needs a dictionary for this. "Fripperies. What do you do at home?"

[thefirstemperor]

Intricate webs of lies are behind him, but that doesn't mean describing his entire biography with all its centuries and tragedies to a stranger. "The management of armies, the administration of lands, the repelling of threats. Nonesuch task do I see here." Admittedly, most of running an empire hinges on granaries, and he's quite used to handling food supplies. He just thinks the barge is stupid and everybody here is stupid, less the ones he finds personally endearing.

[awpants]

A rueful laugh. "Dunno if it's just me but this place feels like an anarchist's happiest daydream. You're probably the only person on board who knows how to organize a group."

[thefirstemperor]

"With a common purpose, perhaps. The denizens of this place have no more cohesion among them than the monsters of the field. Less. Many among the beasts hunt with their fellows, at least." Also it's a shit job.

[awpants]

"This is awkward because now I feel like I should defend the wardens' honor or something and I can't." When you have a point, you have a point.

[thefirstemperor]

"Blame not the wardens. Thy uses may be few, but one can hardly fault mortals for grasping at what the admiral offers." If condescension is better than blame, that might be a refreshing attitude. Probably not.

[awpants]

He is, fortunately, very used to being condescended to. It does annoy him but he holds that in check for Ryong. "What, you've never been desperate?"

[thefirstemperor]

"Thus the allowances I make for thee." This is him being magnanimous. "None are at their wisest in desperation."

[awpants]

He hesitates. "Is that how you ended up here? Something desperate you did?"

[thefirstemperor]

As annoying as he finds this sort of wardenly prying, that's not much of a revelation, and he can't find it in himself to be too offended. "Perhaps it began so." He remembers that cornered animal desperation, but he's pretty sure what landed him here was what came after. If he concedes that anything other than the admiral's whims did that.

[awpants]

He considers pressing for details but they've only just met.

"Got any advice for other desperate people?"

[thefirstemperor]

"At the point of desperation, little remains to change," he says bluntly. He's not actively trying to be unpleasant. He's just yet to be sold on optimism.