[Having stopped listening at talented, and turned back to look over the schematics again, Val simply waits until the words stop before he takes his turn to speak again.]
We shall see how she fares, then. I suppose we can always find another if it proves her talent does not prove up to the task. I will take these with me.
[He begins rolling up the paper after this abrupt announcement.]
[The twin smack of Wysteria's hands on the table, pinning the schematic's edge between them and it, is very sharp in the dusty room. At last, she loses the thread of her composure.]
[A little annoyed, but also a little bewildered, Val looks around at her. And he does not relinquish his hold on the schematics, but goes on holding the page--at least the part that he was holding before her sudden crazed outburst.]
Whyever not? You do want to make progress upon this project, yes?
Everyone knows that it is better to work from originals. Even the loosest and earliest of schematics can be used to predict and understand the mind of he--
[Ah, or: he gestures, to Wysteria.]
--or she whose hand rendered the design. I will require both, if there is to be a second refined version.
[But: with great pomp, he lifts his hand away from the parchment and holds it slightly above his head, in the international gesture of you win I'm not touching I give up and I'm being more than a bit sarcastic about it.]
Then again, I suppose you are not me. Your original, mademoiselle. It is yours.
[And here, at last, is a true note of familiar territory. Wysteria straightens, the line of her chin and jaw just faintly elevated in what is that equally universal language for I'm so glad you noticed and your sarcasm had been noted.]
No sir, I am not. Thank you for understanding. --Now, you will of course keep me updated should you run into any trouble acquiring the necessary funding and materials, as either may require a revision of the design. In turn, I will provide you with the original schematics of each iteration once I've copied them. Once we have a working prototype of the firing mechanism, we will take it and the design to the Provost.
[The Provost. Val rolls his eyes, then lets that carry him into one more serene and composed and highly academic. Which means, a little smug.]
I shall find no trouble with funding, I assure you. It will be as nothing.
[But when she puts out her hand, he studies it first, as if it is an exotic creature that he is not sure of what to do with. Carefully, then, he takes it--lightly, by the fingers--turns it over not quite to handshake, but to--
Well, to all at once pull her hand up and plant a kiss on the back of it. There. A moment later and he has released her, turned away to leave, calling over his shoulder--]
I love schematics! I look forward to the sight of them. It will be the most wonderful birthday present to me, Mademoiselle Canon.
[The face she pulls somewhere in the split second between her hand being kissed and released is very much like the one a person might make if they were suddenly the unexpected victim of a chamber pot being emptied from a third floor window. So: stilted and not-yet-revolted, but give her a second. She'll get around to it.]
Mademoiselle-- [(It's not the worst nickname, which makes it more irritating).
Wysteria scoffs. She opens her mouth to say-- well, nothing occurs, and in a handful of strides he is gone from the room. Settling for puffing out her cheeks, she turns back to the schematics and sets her hands frankly at her hips. After a long moment of consideration, an official complaint is lodged with the empty room:]
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no subject
We shall see how she fares, then. I suppose we can always find another if it proves her talent does not prove up to the task. I will take these with me.
[He begins rolling up the paper after this abrupt announcement.]
no subject
You will do no such thing!
no subject
Whyever not? You do want to make progress upon this project, yes?
no subject
You may have a copy. Of the new schematics, which I will first refine. There is very little use in these save as a guide for my revisions.
no subject
[Ah, or: he gestures, to Wysteria.]
--or she whose hand rendered the design. I will require both, if there is to be a second refined version.
no subject
no subject
[But: with great pomp, he lifts his hand away from the parchment and holds it slightly above his head, in the international gesture of you win I'm not touching I give up and I'm being more than a bit sarcastic about it.]
Then again, I suppose you are not me. Your original, mademoiselle. It is yours.
no subject
No sir, I am not. Thank you for understanding. --Now, you will of course keep me updated should you run into any trouble acquiring the necessary funding and materials, as either may require a revision of the design. In turn, I will provide you with the original schematics of each iteration once I've copied them. Once we have a working prototype of the firing mechanism, we will take it and the design to the Provost.
Are we in agreement?
[She puts out her hand, expectant.]
no subject
I shall find no trouble with funding, I assure you. It will be as nothing.
[But when she puts out her hand, he studies it first, as if it is an exotic creature that he is not sure of what to do with. Carefully, then, he takes it--lightly, by the fingers--turns it over not quite to handshake, but to--
Well, to all at once pull her hand up and plant a kiss on the back of it. There. A moment later and he has released her, turned away to leave, calling over his shoulder--]
I love schematics! I look forward to the sight of them. It will be the most wonderful birthday present to me, Mademoiselle Canon.
no subject
Mademoiselle-- [(It's not the worst nickname, which makes it more irritating).
Wysteria scoffs. She opens her mouth to say-- well, nothing occurs, and in a handful of strides he is gone from the room. Settling for puffing out her cheeks, she turns back to the schematics and sets her hands frankly at her hips. After a long moment of consideration, an official complaint is lodged with the empty room:]
Good gods, what an absolute ass he is.