Some flicker of interest. It had not occurred to him that there might be notes in Val's possession, and there is some curiosity as to what he might have jotted down and how that would align with what they'd been able to acquire from Skyhold. That train of thought pulls at Ellis for a moment, weighing up the possibility, before he returns to the matter at hand.
"I have been looking over some of that research to see if it might be used to remedy what was found in the Temple of Dumat," Ellis says slowly, gaze very intent on Val's face.
Val had been there. He had seen the corrupted rift, and all other manner of atrocity contained in that place. Ellis is uncertain whether the full gravity had reached him, however—
"Can I entrust you with my research? The notes I have, and my papers, and everything else? I cannot leave it in my room here, unattended, while I am away."
The possibility of losing all that he's collected thus far to theft or otherwise is devastating. It's pushed him here, seeking out someone he thinks might be trustworthy, in spite of being frustrating, and Orlesian, and—
Well. All the rest. The things he cannot hold against Val, though they still exert some vise-like pressure upon him, tightening around his chest as Ellis considers Val de Foncé.
This is the second of Val's surprises. Whatever he expected Ellis' request to be, it did not involve receiving his compiled research for safekeeping. Prior to this moment, he was not even aware that the man had research to be entrusted.
(Perhaps he should. He has critiqued Warden Ellis' handwriting often enough, and Mister Ellis' twice as often, and he has heard in passing of someone whose name begins with an E, and who might lend a hand or an ear to a problem that requires, yes, research.)
He does not accept immediately, but spares a glance to the door that leads back to Wysteria's room. A faint frown passes over his face, more thoughtful than annoyed.
"You would have prefered to have asked the mademoiselle?"
This is not untrue. He would have much rather have given over everything to Wysteria to be tucked away somewhere. Perhaps in the Hightown house. Perhaps in her workshop. Perhaps even at the bottom of the great hole she was having dug into the earth for whatever purpose.
But Ellis cannot ask anything of Wysteria now, because she is meant to be resting, not arguing with Ellis over his pursuits and his theories and the risk he is about to undertake.
Maybe he would not have wanted to have that argument regardless. But it doesn't matter know. What might have been is not what will be, and so Ellis must make different arrangements.
"You'll not be able to tell her about them, or about the research. Not yet," follows after, just as serious. "I'll explain it all to her when I return."
"Of course I will tell her whatever I wish, whenever I wish."
The counter is delivered as a pronouncement, immediate and crisp. But he does not actually mean it. Or rather, he means it thirty percent. Yet it must be said. One does not entertain orders. And now, if he does decide not to tell Wysteria about anything, it will be because he has chosen not to do so.
Abruptly, Val thrusts his hand toward Ellis, expectant of a gentlemen's handshake and not the immediate delivery of these papers. Surely the man is not carrying them on his person.
"I accept the charge of your research. It may be entrusted to me."
And he will, despite everything, take it quite seriously. And look through it. But surely that is to be expected.
No, Ellis is not carrying any of his research on his person.
But still, there is a beat of scrutiny. The prickle of frustration comes and goes, slipping away without finding any purchase. Whatever Ellis needs from this man, he will receive only parts and pieces. What had he expected? Val is Orlesian and he is nobility. There is a gulf between them. (It is not forgotten, the way Val had looked at him.) Ellis doesn't know how to reach across it and draw out the reassurance he needs.
"I'd ask that you tell no one. As a favor to me," is said in the same exact moment as Ellis takes Val's hand. His grip is firm. "I know you've kept her secrets. Please keep mine, until I return."
It is the sort of appeal made without any hope of return. But still, Ellis puts it forth. He knows Val to be capable of this, at least. Wysteria wouldn't have chosen him for their gambit if he were incapable of keeping things to himself.
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no subject
"I have been looking over some of that research to see if it might be used to remedy what was found in the Temple of Dumat," Ellis says slowly, gaze very intent on Val's face.
Val had been there. He had seen the corrupted rift, and all other manner of atrocity contained in that place. Ellis is uncertain whether the full gravity had reached him, however—
"Can I entrust you with my research? The notes I have, and my papers, and everything else? I cannot leave it in my room here, unattended, while I am away."
The possibility of losing all that he's collected thus far to theft or otherwise is devastating. It's pushed him here, seeking out someone he thinks might be trustworthy, in spite of being frustrating, and Orlesian, and—
Well. All the rest. The things he cannot hold against Val, though they still exert some vise-like pressure upon him, tightening around his chest as Ellis considers Val de Foncé.
no subject
(Perhaps he should. He has critiqued Warden Ellis' handwriting often enough, and Mister Ellis' twice as often, and he has heard in passing of someone whose name begins with an E, and who might lend a hand or an ear to a problem that requires, yes, research.)
He does not accept immediately, but spares a glance to the door that leads back to Wysteria's room. A faint frown passes over his face, more thoughtful than annoyed.
"You would have prefered to have asked the mademoiselle?"
no subject
This is not untrue. He would have much rather have given over everything to Wysteria to be tucked away somewhere. Perhaps in the Hightown house. Perhaps in her workshop. Perhaps even at the bottom of the great hole she was having dug into the earth for whatever purpose.
But Ellis cannot ask anything of Wysteria now, because she is meant to be resting, not arguing with Ellis over his pursuits and his theories and the risk he is about to undertake.
Maybe he would not have wanted to have that argument regardless. But it doesn't matter know. What might have been is not what will be, and so Ellis must make different arrangements.
"You'll not be able to tell her about them, or about the research. Not yet," follows after, just as serious. "I'll explain it all to her when I return."
no subject
The counter is delivered as a pronouncement, immediate and crisp. But he does not actually mean it. Or rather, he means it thirty percent. Yet it must be said. One does not entertain orders. And now, if he does decide not to tell Wysteria about anything, it will be because he has chosen not to do so.
Abruptly, Val thrusts his hand toward Ellis, expectant of a gentlemen's handshake and not the immediate delivery of these papers. Surely the man is not carrying them on his person.
"I accept the charge of your research. It may be entrusted to me."
And he will, despite everything, take it quite seriously. And look through it. But surely that is to be expected.
no subject
But still, there is a beat of scrutiny. The prickle of frustration comes and goes, slipping away without finding any purchase. Whatever Ellis needs from this man, he will receive only parts and pieces. What had he expected? Val is Orlesian and he is nobility. There is a gulf between them. (It is not forgotten, the way Val had looked at him.) Ellis doesn't know how to reach across it and draw out the reassurance he needs.
"I'd ask that you tell no one. As a favor to me," is said in the same exact moment as Ellis takes Val's hand. His grip is firm. "I know you've kept her secrets. Please keep mine, until I return."
It is the sort of appeal made without any hope of return. But still, Ellis puts it forth. He knows Val to be capable of this, at least. Wysteria wouldn't have chosen him for their gambit if he were incapable of keeping things to himself.