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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | The day after his meeting with Devon Tennerow and Elohad Ference regarding the King's assassination, Siamus Fallon has a discreet meeting on the same subject with his favorite trio of Stormwind Guards. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Darkness falls early on a January evening, and there's frost in the air; the lanterns along the Goldshire road wear smeary haloes of golden light in the biting air.
On the northeastern edge of town, where a sprawling white house is set back amid trees near the river, a rider in a woolen overcoat and Kul Tiran-style tricorn hat reins his horse in to survey the place from the road. Warm light spills from its windows. The horse, a dappled stallion the color of hammered steel, tosses its dark mane and dances sidelong restlessly; its coat steams in the frosty darkness.
Siamus turns the horse in a close circle, his gaze still on the house. His own breath makes a cloud around him. After a few moments, he eases the animal around and rides it from the road and up the path.
He leaves the horse secured on a long rein to a nearby tree, removes his hat, and approaches the door.
Before he can knock, a light thundering of hooves rolls down the road behind him, and three horses and their riders appear from the dark. Risk, a plain black stallion with no distinguishing features leads the herd, out of stubbornness or some sense of competition. Kelpie, a smoky grey mare with a black mane follows on his heels, not quite as antsy as Risk, but not as calm as the third, Flashlight, another black stallion, with a white blaze down the center of his face.
The riders, a certain trio of Stormwind Guards, are still dressed for work, two wearing plate, one in leather. When they reach the tree Siamus secured his horse to, Risk comes to a stop, eyeing the newcomer as if offended that someone beat him here.
“Oi Admiral!” Reniya calls cheerfully, swinging out of Kelpie’s saddle before the mare has even stopped moving. She greets his antics with a huff. “I see y’found the way.”
Another mare, a familiar cool white beauty, lifts her head at his call. Ralaea’s horse Alnair recognizes at least half of the newcomers, and her ears swivel curiously towards Risk as Lathrik dismounts.
Joelle does not dismount, steering Flashlight around the left side of the house to a two stall stable where another black stallion waits.
Siamus has stepped back from the door to watch the approaching trio with an appreciative eye. Whether that is for the horseflesh or the three gentlemen or both I leave to your imagination. At the tree, Siroc throws his head up indignantly and dances away from Risk, flattening his ears back. A peasant horse approacheth, how dare.
Siamus clicks his tongue reproachfully at the dappled stallion and takes a few steps back toward the animal to preempt Hijinks. "I did, aye," he says to Reniya. "And just in time. Or the pack of ye are just in time yourselves, whichever way." He smiles crookedly, his gleaming black gaze hanging on Ren for a moment before he turns his head to watch Joelle ride past.
He looks back at the other two. "And I see Ralaea's here ahead of all of us. Evening, Dinnsfield." He tucks his hat under his arm and approaches Reniya's mare. "Who's your lady, Hartrim?"
"Name's Kelpie," Reniya answers with a grin. "She's not Tirasian like your fellow. She was born here in Elwynn. There's a stable near the river, aye? Sometimes during floods half the pasture goes under. Bit short sighted, the location, but this lass seemed not t'mind. When I first met 'er she was out in the rain. Our eyes met and that was it, mate."
Kelpie leans towards Siamus, as if catching a familiar scent.
Lathrik joins them, Risk hovering over his shoulder, stealing looks at Siroc. "Braggin' about his water horse is he?"
"Aye, well he ought to," says Siamus, still smiling his tilted smile. He strips off a glove and offers the flat of his hand out to Kelpie for consideration. "She's a pretty lass. I'm partial to a grey myself." He looks over at Lathrik and Risk, and says to the black stallion in all seriousness, "Begging your pardon, lad. I'm sure you're a fine fellow."
Kelpie snuffles his offered hand, and whatever she smells seems to meet with her approval.
To Lathrik himself, Siamus says, "How's the new place, Dinnsfield? And your lady?"
"Bigger'n I'm used to," Lathrik replies. Accompanied by Reniya's laughter, he continues, "The place, not the lass. She's…" A bit of an awkward pause follows as he scrambles for a word, before he finishes with, "…fine."
Joelle returns horseless and joins them, blending in as though he's been there all along. He gives Lathrik a consoling pat on the shoulder that isn't overtaken by Risk.
Siamus scratches Kelpie's velvety muzzle gently and then turns away. He raises an expressive eyebrow at Lathrik, his smile tilting up higher. "Well," he says. "Give Miss Kensington-Whit my regards, will ye? When next ye can find her in your house." He nods courteously to Joelle. "Ebek. Evening."
"Aye, will do," Lathrik says with a defeated chuckle.
"Hello," Joelle says, his voice soft as usual. His chocolate brown eyes are hard to see in the dark, making him next to impossible to read. "We can go in."
While Reniya secures Kelpie to a tree, Lathrik and Joelle head towards the door to the house. Risk continues to hover, giving the appearance that he might follow them inside.
Siamus follows Lathrik and Elle, taking off his other glove as he goes and stashing both gloves in his hat for now. He scrubs a bare hand through his hair, tousling it back to rakish disorder after its Hat Confinement. (A gentleman has a roguishly handsome reputation to maintain. Reniya understands.)
Joelle does not knock, because he lives here, but when he opens the door he is met by the scowling face of Ralaea, and the trying-not-to-be-too-curious-and-failing face of Hana, a young woman with her dark hair pulled up into a tail, who is around the same size as Ralaea herself. They stand in a long hallway, to the left of which is a door leading into the kitchen and dining room, while to the right is a small study. The hallway continues all the way through the house to the back door, branching off in various places to lead to other rooms.
When Ralaea sees Siamus amongst the group, the first thing she says is, "Oh." Then she nods in greeting. "S– Lordship."
Hana looks a bit confused by the address, and glances at Joelle, who simply gazes back at her helpfully.
Siamus smiles warmly at Rae. That's his awkward girl. "Ralaea," he says. "Evening. I didn't know ye would be here tonight." He bows his head courteously, still smiling, to Hana. "Admiral Siamus Fallon, miss."
Hana attempts a curtsy, but as one unaccustomed to performing them, she wobbles and nearly falls into Ralaea. "Hana Levesworth, milord…ship?" she says. "I'm Elle's cousin."
"He's an Admiral," Joelle repeats, again, helpfully.
"Thanks, Elle," Hana says.
Siamus flashes her another smile, his gaze gleaming with genuine, conspiratorial amusement. "Ye can just call me Admiral, Miss Levesworth," he says. "Most people do." He does not look at Ralaea as he says this. Rae has special privileges. "It's a pleasure to meet ye."
Ralaea turns her attention to Joelle, and genuine sadness and guilt appears on her face. "Rinto died," she says. "Sorry."
Joelle blinks in surprise. "Oh," he says. "Did…"
But Ralaea has already turned around and departed at a run towards one of the back rooms. Hana starts to apologize for her, then realizes the Admiral is basically her dad and stops herself.
"It's a game," Hana says quickly, specifically to Lathrik and Siamus. "Nobody actually died. Nobody real, anyway."
There is an understanding look on Reniya's face; he's played before.
"… ah," says Siamus, and looks after Rae with a line between his brows. Should he… do a Dad thing, here? "Well. I apologize if she — Is Ralaea all right?" He looks between Hana and Joelle. Who is he supposed to be concerned for in this circumstance?
"It's okay," Joelle says. "She is learning." His own expression is stoic as ever, but a deep enough look into his eyes shows that he is saddened too.
"Aye, it's a brutal game," Reniya says. "Miralynn has you create a bunch of people, what they like, what their skills are, an' has you interact with 'em, get all familiar, aye? Then a battle comes, and y'gotta lead 'em. Sometimes they die, and it's 'cause of choices you made. She'll be alright, I expect. Eventually. You're playin' this one too, Elle?"
Joelle nods. "Rinto was… one of mine. I think that bothers her."
The woman in question, Miralynn, emerges from the room Ralaea fled to, her dark hair to her shoulders and her blue eyes piercing. She bows before Siamus. "Admiral," she says. "Congratulations on your promotion."
"Mrs. Ebek," says Siamus, bowing his head to her. "Thank ye kindly. And as I haven't yet had the opportunity to say it, thank ye also for your work with Ralaea." His dark gaze has already left Miralynn to focus on the doorway where Rae vanished.
After a moment he says, "It does sound a brutal game, aye. More brutal when it's not a game. It's good to see it grieves her. Better still to see she'll play it again anyway." He turns back to Miralynn and bows his head a second time, respectfully, his expression sober.
Miralynn nods once in acknowledgment. "You may use the dining room. Hana, would you start our guests some tea? If Hann is in there you are welcome to throw him out." She gestures to the room at their left.
The dining room is not particularly large, and aside from a few strategically placed potted plants, some counters, and a couple cupboards, it is fairly spartan. Johann is indeed inside, sitting at the table with, of all things, an article of The Azerothian Interest. As Hana leads the way in, he rises and folds it up, offering a crisp salute to Siamus. "Admiral," he rumbles.
"Miralynn's reserving the room for our guests," Hana informs him, passing by the table and into the kitchen beyond.
"Lieutenant Ebek," says Siamus, and bows his head respectfully. "Pleasure to see ye again, in… less fraught circumstances. Obliged to you and Mrs. Ebek for your hospitality. Your wife's doing fine work wi' my ward, it seems."
"Your ward is a fine young lady," Johann says, standing at ease after being addressed. "Very… energetic." His brown eyes sparkle with humor, warming his generally stern expression. "Has my son given you trouble since?"
Siamus looks genuinely startled. "Your son? Not a bit of it, no. Guardsman Ebek's a good lad, credit to the service. And thank ye kindly, regarding Ralaea. My wife and I can take no credit; we found her as she is." He smiles that crooked smile again.
A faint smile teases the lips of Johann, his expression lightly encouraging as his gaze travels to Joelle. Joelle's ears redden and he looks away, towards the ground. The unspoken communication sees Johann's smile dim, his eyebrows twitching ever so slightly together. Reniya, an expert by now in this form of communication, gives Joelle a friendly shoulder bump, then proceeds into the room.
"Hartrim. Dinnsfield," Johann says, finally acknowledging the others. "I will give you the room, then." He tucks the paper under one arm, and allows them to file in, before heading past them to the exit.
Siamus watches the man leave, his expression genial, and then casts a glance at Reniya and arches a questioning brow.
Reniya fades into the shadows, and his voice next comes from just behind Siamus. "Hann was trying to encourage Elle, but Elle still feels a lot of shame and embarrassment about that day, and it makes his father worry," he translates. Then he reappears precisely where he was before, and joins the others in taking a seat.
"Oi, your father reads The Interest?" Lathrik is asking Joelle.
If Joelle noticed Reniya's sudden absence, it doesn't show on his face. Then again, it rarely does. He nods in response to Lathrik's question. "Yes."
Siamus stiffens for a moment, lifting his chin alertly, when Ren's voice speaks unexpectedly from behind him, but he relaxes almost at once, and then nods briefly, vaguely as if at some passing thought or decision of his own.
He flicks another look at Reniya, though, when the man reappears, and watches him move to his seat. Then he goes to the table himself to sit.
"Saw the three of ye out in the audience at the Remembrance Day business," he says. This is not small talk; his manner is immediately less easygoing-genial, his tone clipped and his gaze intent.
Lathrik leans back in his seat, his expression souring. There is a moment's pause as he sorts through a few choice words for the King and his decisions, before he settles on, "Messy. The whole business was messy."
"Aye, if the King was fixin' t'start a panic, he was on the right track," Reniya chimes in. "We did what we could. Even Hana tried to keep the spirits high."
Hana returns from the kitchen, then, with a pot of tea and a stack of plates and cups, which she distributes to each of them. She does not speak on the topic — after all, they're not here for her — and, after fetching the milk and sugar and placing those on the table as well, she heads for the exit, flashing the men a smile on her way.
Siamus waits, smiling again, and thanks Hana with a nod and a murmured courtesy as she sets down a cup for him.
When she's gone, his smile vanishes and he leans forward to put his elbows on the table. His expression is tired. "Messy, aye, that's one word. The whole thing handled badly, start to finish. Not — mind ye, not by the guard." He does not say By the King, because he is a loyal king's man, but there aren't that many other people he could mean. "You're right, we're lucky there wasn't a panic. I can tell ye there were people from Capital City in that crowd who had a bad moment or two when His Majesty came up bloody onto that stage."
He looks among them. "The issue the House confronts now — well, not the House, which generally can't agree what day of the bloody week it is, but certain of us in the House — is Twilight infiltration, aye?" For a moment his gaze hangs on Lathrik before he sweeps the whole trio with a look.
"Not the guard," Lathrik repeats. "Ye say that, but fact of the matter, we had no one on him when he needed us. Worse, we lost him for a time, along with his sole heir. Now, I'm not sayin' His Majesty shouldn't be allowed some freedom, but the truth of it is, we've lost him before, forcing Fordragon to act as regent for years. It's as though we've learned nothing. You mention Twilight infiltration, but if you're overlooking the guard itself, I suggest you reconsider." His voice is harsh with anger, but it isn't directed at Siamus.
"We've had someone assigned to investigate," Reniya offers, his own tone gentle and subdued in the face of Lathrik's anger. "Aye? Who was it again, Elle?"
"Major Samuelson," Joelle dutifully recites. "The King trusts him."
Siamus tilts his head a moment to consider Joelle, and then nods at him and at Reniya. "Samuelson. Good, all right." He looks back at Lathrik. "I agree the fact there was no one wi'the King — not even with a line of sight on him, from the walls or anywhere else — when it happened is… troubling. I also know your lot's been pulled thin since the dragon, and a thing like Remembrance Day, a crowd like the city had — that's only going to make it worse.
"Now, it makes sense that ye'd have the bulk of men turned out on the public squares and in the Valley of Heroes, where the bulk of the crowd was and where the King and his lot were meant to be. It makes less sense that there'd be not even a single man posted behind the Cathedral or on the walls overlooking. So I'm coming to you lot, as the ones who'd know better than I, to ask — is that a thing could have been anticipated, wi'the current state of the Guard since the dragon and the demands of the day? Or is it wrong from every angle? Would you lads yourselves have thought — did ye think — that there'd be men in position back there?"
He smiles humorlessly at Lathrik. "When I say it was handled badly, ye see, I mean the bit where the public unease was stirred by the shambles onstage, and then His Majesty turned up bloody and failed to address it. I'm not overlooking the guard for blame behind the wider business. I'm overlooking the three of you, because I know ye to be trustworthy lads. There's a reason I'm speaking wi' you lot and in private, and not your higher-ups as yet."
Lathrik leans forward, tapping one finger on the table. "Aye, so here's where we're at. Our boss, Officer Pennings, handles deployment of guards in the Trade District and Old Town. There's another who oversees the Cathedral and Dwarven Districts, and a third in charge of the Mage Quarter and… they used to oversee the Park as well, but in the absence of that, they've taken on the Harbor. Since the incident, Pennings has been demanding the deployment records of both the other jurisdictions, but she doesn't have the authority to force their compliance, and everyone's playin' on the defensive about it all.
"I'd like to tell ye we were supposed to have lads there. It was bleedin' Remembrance Day. The graveyards — even the royal one — should've been watched. But right now, I haven't got that information for ye." No wonder he's so mad. Lathrik leans back again, eyeing Reniya and Joelle, in case they have anything to add.
"For what it's worth, mate, Pennings is solid," Reniya says. "Can't imagine a world where she'd be a cultist, and 'er actions speak to that."
Siamus folds his arms, frowning. "Who's the officer in charge of Cathedral and Dwarven? And d'ye suppose it would make a difference if I asked for the deployment records? On behalf of the House?"
"That'd be Officer Quert Delgran," Lathrik says. "The name's Quert on paper, he'll insist on ye sayin' it Kurt. And if ye can't get it from him directly, ye might be able to convince someone over his head to put the pressure on. We need to know where it went wrong. I've half a mind to force the matter myself."
"Oi, oi, don't worry your Swallowtail just yet, aye?" Reniya says. "It'll get sorted."
"Delgran," Siamus repeats to himself. "Kurt Delgran." He reaches into the pocket of his overcoat, which in his distraction he has not removed, and produces a familiar notebook. "Spelled Quert."
He looks up at Lathrik and nods when Reniya speaks. "Keep your head down for now, Dinnsfield, don't rock the boat. If there are Twilights in the guard, better to know there's good men in there as well who can be relied on to thwart 'em." He sits back. "I've already got the reputation for being the hothead, so it'll call less attention if I'm the one raising a racket, and they can't move as inconspicuously against a House member and fleet officer. Ye keep me apprised which way the winds are blowing wi' the guard, and whenever there's call to kick the hive, I'll do it."
He looks from face to face again. "But this Pennings, ye say — she's sound? And the King trusts this Samuelson?"
Lathrik sighs, reining in his impatience. "Aye," he says. "Pennings is solid. She's a steady hand in a crisis, an' she looks after her own. Haven't met the Major directly, but the King speaks for him, Hann's confirmed as much. His record looks alright. He's been Captain of the guard for years. Was responsible for some of the postings down in Southshore, as well. One of the lads claimed him for a mentor, a Lieutenant Farren Orinelle. Cobalt did some work for the Lieutenant, killing murlocs, naga and the like, and the way I heard it, he claimed it for his own to secure a transfer back to Stormwind. S'pose that doesn't speak too well of the Major, bringin' up a soldier like that, but ye find all kinds in the guard. Marshal Redpath was better off without a man unwilling to work."
A silence follows, before Lathrik adds, "S'pose none of them were better off for anything, in the end."
Siamus' mouth sets in a thin line. He sets his pencil down on his notebook and drops his gaze to it. After a moment he nods wearily. "Aye, no. Tides carry 'em."
He draws his brows together, still gazing at the pencil. "I might speak with Lieutenant Ebek about Samuelson, just to satisfy my curiosity. His Majesty trusts Lady Jaina, too." He picks the pencil up and does not elaborate on this last, scathing remark. "Is there anyone else who would have had access to guard rotas for Remembrance Day, before the day? In or out of the guard?"
"Don't know how District 3 operates," Lathrik says. "Our District 1 handles deployment for important events as an all-hands on deck, assignments are handed out randomly the day of, and posted where we all can see it. But I expect all schedules and postings pass through the ranks to the top for approval well beforehand, an' that's part of why all this is infuriating. If District 3 posts their assignments early, then friends or family of the guard could've conceivably known something, but my feeling is either this was an inside-job, or a Twilight slipped in through the cracks and back out with none the wiser."
"Aye, so, Pennings," Reniya elaborates. "She submits a sheet that contains the expected positions of her guard, and the patrol schedules, but leaves out the specific personnel until the day of. Any cultists get their hands on it, they won't know who they're dealin' with until the day of, and any cultists on the inside won't know where they'll be for plannin' ambushes and the like. But we don't know if the other Districts do the same, or if they're more open about it all."
Siamus nods. "This lot knew where to put an ambush, and roughly when. Leaving aside the question of what the hell His Majesty thought he was doing out there on his own — we all know the man would never admit he could be in danger — we have to determine whether someone knew where there would happen to be no guards, or whether they had access and authority to remove guards." He settles back in his chair and folds his arms, frowning. "D'ye know and trust any of the lads in Delgran's district enough to ask 'em whether there was an unexpected last-minute change? Or they got called off somewhere else urgently?"
"I could ask," Reniya says, "but tensions bein' what they are, I'd be more likely to take away a few bruises than any useful information. Least if I asked right out. Elle?"
"They know who my father is," Joelle says. "Everyone does."
"Aye." Reniya and Joelle turn to Lathrik.
"Trust is the problem," Lathrik says. "I could ask Pennings to transfer me to District 3, but any information I gather that way won't come quick."
Siamus grimaces and nods. He slouches down in his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "And that's an area I'd have far less luck in than any of the three of ye. All right, let me think."
"What about Count Amerith?" Reniya asks.
Lathrik shoots him a flat look.
"Oi, c'mon mate, hear me out. The man's got a knack for havin' people in all the right places. Might be he's got the connections we don't."
"Ilanya is gone," Joelle points out.
"Aye, that's true, but we don't gotta be the ones askin'." Reniya looks to Siamus.
"No," says Siamus thoughtfully. "No, ye don't. I'll find out." He nods to Ren.
"Speaking of it, in fact — ye know it happened before, in Prestor's days, that we had Twilights in the kingdom and some of them on the House. Not ruling our lot out either, as to who all might have been in on this. So I'll tell ye, in case ye learn anything and can't get hold of me, the other men ye can trust in the matter are Ference, Tennerow, and Thenedain. The other men and lady, that is."
"Glad to hear Ference is clean, or we'd be searching the whole of Cobalt Company," Lathrik says dryly. "The bodies from that day might be another way to come at it. Identifying whether or not they were proper citizens, living in the city, or they came in from outside."
"The ones the king didn't… destroy," Joelle adds.
Lathrik nods to Joelle. "D'ye have access to that information? Has anyone started an investigation on the matter?"
Siamus raises his eyebrows and reaches for his notebook again. "Not that I know, from that direction. Should've thought of it. Suppose that's why you're the guardsman and I'm the sailor, aye?" He makes a note, frowns to himself. "I haven't got contacts in the city morgue. I doubt the others do either, though ye never know with Ference. But — no, aye, I know who to ask." He nods grimly and makes another note, and then he tilts his head. "Unless Amerith also — he seems like a man who'd know people at the morgue. I'll ask 'em both."
"We'll just hope no one has disposed of them yet," Lathrik says. "If the Twilights have people on cleanup…"
"I could pretend to be a tree," Joelle suggests out of nowhere.
Lathrik stares at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn't.
"You uh… got more for us there, Elle?" Reniya prompts, an amused smile springing to his face.
"When I'm off-duty," Joelle says. "I could pretend to be a tree. Listen to people talk. Maybe find cultists. There are tree disguises. They work."
Siamus is regarding Joelle with the same patiently bemused look he frequently has occasion to level at Ralaea. "Do they?" he asks mildly, and then looks at the other two. Tree disguises? says his look.
"I've heard of plant disguises," Reniya offers. "I s'pose tree's not impossible. Y'gotta smell like one though, in case… D'you think there're worgen cultists?"
Siamus raises his eyebrows. "That's an interesting question. If there are Gilnean ones, they'd either have had to be indoctrinated quite recently — in the last months — or lying very low for a decade or more. Worgen of other origin, I've no idea. I wouldn't risk Ebek here on the assumption it's unlikely, though. And even if they're not cultists themselves, any passing worgen might smell that a disguised tree isn't actually a tree, and their reactions would be enough to elicit attention from others."
He pauses and then says, "Tree disguises," to himself under his breath, sounding faintly perplexed.
"Is there anything," Lathrik asks, a mild impatience returning to his voice, "aside from keepin' an eye out, that ye would like us to do?"
Siamus clears his throat. Right. The King's assassination. He picks up his notebook and reviews it. "I think ye've given me enough here. I'm going to follow up on Delgran and the patrol rotas, and wi' the city morgue. The latter's priority, in case they're getting rid of bodies — or have gotten rid — already. I'll speak wi' Lieutenant Ebek about Samuelson, to satisfy my curiosity." He lifts his gaze from his notes.
"I am going to ask for all the patrol rotas, and likely for a meeting with your Pennings as well, because I don't want it to look like I have suspicions aimed any particular direction just yet. Ye may tell Pennings anything ye like, or ye may tell her nothing at all if it would delight ye to hear her curse my name as an interfering politician.
"If ye hear anything from any of your colleagues — talk of unexpected last-minute changes, of outside interference, or of unexpected troubles elsewhere that drew guards away from their duties — please let me know. Don't go hunting for trouble though, aye? Disguised as a tree or anything else. Three capable, known-loyal men in the guard is an asset we can't squander right now." Siamus sets his notebook down again. "And if anyone else comes asking ye about any of this, I'd like to know who. Just for my own reference in who all's investigating."
He pauses and looks to Lathrik. "Although if it's someone from the House who isn't me, Ference, or Tennerow, I'd be curious what they ask ye. I won't tell ye not to answer them, because I don't want suspicions aimed at ye and I don't want you to think I'm up to anything underhanded myself. Just… I'd be curious."
Lathrik blows a breath out in a sigh. "Business as usual, then," he says. "Aye, we'll keep ye apprised."
Reniya gives Lathrik a sympathetic smile. "Jus' don't be afraid t'call on us if you need the law backin' you up," he tells Siamus. "We won't shy from our duties, and we'll have your back if you poke too far into the — " Reniya winces, then grins as Lathrik kicks him under the table. " — hole," he finishes anyway. Lathrik rolls his eyes.
Siamus clears his throat. He is not smiling. He is very not smiling. The twitch at the corner of his mouth is some sort of facial tic, probably, don't stare. "I appreciate that, Hartrim," he says gravely. "Even when I do, I find I rarely get complaint. But I'll let ye know, certainly, and appreciate it."
He picks up his notebook to tuck it back into his pocket, and glances at Lathrik again. "Dinnsfield, a word wi' ye in private, if possible?"
Lathrik tilts his head towards the door, and Reniya and Joelle get to their feet. Reniya pauses to chug his tea — by now it is cool enough for him to do so. Joelle's cup is empty. When did that happen? Nobody knows.
"You can leave the dishes," Joelle says. "I will clean them after."
"Thanks, Elle," Lathrik says, and the two men depart from the room, leaving Siamus the sole focus of his intense gaze.
Siamus watches them go, smiling faintly. When they're gone, he turns his own focus back to Lathrik, the smile fading. "If I ask ye to do a thing," he says quietly, "that puts ye in a position of conflict — risks exposing or endangering any other work ye might have — ye may tell me that ye'd rather not, and I won't press ye. We have the same ultimate interest."
Lathrik's gaze sharpens, but he doesn't otherwise move. "I'm not sure what other work ye might be referring to," he says at length. "But ye surely know by now that I don't compromise the integrity of any job I take on."
Siamus nods mildly. "I wouldn't like to imply it. Only to let ye know that I wouldn't like to be the man to put ye in a tight spot ever." He smiles and inclines his head courteously. "I won't keep ye longer. Obliged for your time, aye?"
"Whoever gave ye the notion I was puttin' time into other work," Lathrik says, a lazy smile appearing on his face. "If ye'd let them know it's discourteous to spread such rumors?" His tone and expression are polite, relaxed, even, but a faint glow of Light fills his eyes, adding to their intensity.
Siamus' smile widens and he arches a brow. "If someone were spreading rumors about ye, I would be sure to let them know it. Don't mistake me — when I say I'd not like to interfere with your other work, I'm not impugning your dedication to your career, I'm acknowledging that a Stormwind Guard's a man with plenty of work on his plate. So if I ask ye for a thing and you're too occupied otherwise to oblige, I understand. I'm a man who appreciates a thorough investigation myself."
He rises from the table and pauses. "As Hartrim's not here, I suppose we needn't make too much of a potential entendre there."
His gaze drops to Lathrik again. "I am grateful, Dinnsfield. Give Miss Kensington-Whit my regards, and if there's ever anything I can do for the pair of ye…." He shrugs.
"I'll bear it in mind, but you've already done far more than we could've asked," Lathrik says, taking a long, slow drink of tea, though his eyes never leave Siamus. Finally, he gets to his feet and offers a handshake.
Siamus steps toward him to shake his hand firmly. "Keep yourself safe, Dinnsfield. And see that those two keep themselves safe. Don't like to wash blood out of the bedroom carpets more than two or three times a year."