Anselme de Haillenarte offered the plate of cookies to the other. Inviting him to help himself to one of the teatime sweets that made up his treasure trove. “Oh, no. I’m glad for the company. So long as I’m not interrupting your reading.” He gestured with the half-eaten cookie to himself. “Anselme, by the by. I don’t think I had a chance to catch your name in the chaos?” Anselme smiled blankly and looked at his the cup he had set down. “I don’t blame you for not wanting what I’ve brewed, I never know how long to steep it when I prepare it myself. It’s… pretty bad.”
Quincy Pallene adjusted his sling again, then gave a quiet smile. Anselme's energy was warm and welcoming, and made him feel a BIT less nervous than usual. "Ah -- Quincy Pallene. Quincy, really, my...family name is nothing to be proud of. I'm afraid I can't share your food, either. I...I don't know if you touched any of it." he admits, shyly. "Are you feeling better, Sir?"
Anselme shrugged a shoulder, not seeming in the least bit offended. “Quite alright, I did indeed touch it when I put it on the plate.” He set the dish in front of himself, sliding the tea closer to dip the half-eaten biscuit into it. “A pleasure and an honor, Quincy. Feeling far better, yes.” To demonstrate he lifted the arm that had been a bit of a mangled mess previously, rolling the shoulder to prove that he was fit as a fiddle once again. “The chirurgeons are quite talented, but I see you’ve had a bit of an injury yourself since. May I ask what happened?” He nodded towards the sling.
Quincy made a face, looking at the cookies in faint horror. He could have EATEN A TOUCHED COOKIE? It was a brief and muted response, before he was distracted by the question. He fiddled with the sling idly. "...well. I um. I picked up a bully a while back, and he...he broke my arm. But Sir Lionnet set him to rights, and it oughtn't happen again."
Anselme followed the boy’s gaze towards the plate. Feeling mildly guilty for having touched them, though he hadn’t been expecting to share them in the first place. Or maybe Quincy really didn’t care for cinnamon. Either way, all the more for him. He finished the tea-soaked bit of biscuit and frowned, thick brows furrowing. “He broke your arm to make you suffer, how cruel. I do hope Ser Lionnet gave him what for and then some. Nothing worse than one who bullies others just because they can."
"Well...well I got to decide his punishment, actually." Quincy admits slowly. "...I said he had to work with the Silver Accords and do charity work in the Brume. M-Maybe it will change his mind. If he doesn't show up for the work, then...we'll turn him in."
Anselme picked up another cookie, busying himself with chewing so he wouldn’t have to respond right away. He was curious if Quincy had decided to be the bigger man and show mercy. Yet that seemed too invasive a question for having just met moments ago. Thankfully the boy explained further. The Knight’s expression immediately brightened to a cheerful grin. “Taking the high road must have been difficult after what was done to you. You chose to show mercy and help others."
Quincy shrugged quietly. "I...I don't know. He seemed afraid of his father, and I can understand that. I...I didn't really think it was that bad, but Sir Lionnet said I ought to think so. I...I didn't really -disagree- with him, on what I was...but I don't want him to hurt anyone else, so I thought...e-education would be more effective."
Anselme settled his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward slightly, nodding his agreement. “Hurting someone else to make oneself feel powerful is unforgivable.” He agreed. “Even if it comes from a place of hurting to start with, that never makes it ‘alright’. I do hope your solution works out, it’s the sort of direction I’d like to see the new generation of Ishgardians to head in.” He scratched self-consciously at his own hair briefly. “Er, apologies. I simply assumed. Are you from Ishgard?”
Quincy nodded slowly. "...from a shed with no door at the bottom of the Brume." he said softly. "...a-and you?"
Anselme turned his gaze downwards, picking up the teacup to dip another cookie into it and seeming very distracted by that rather suddenly. “I am also from Ishgard.” He agreed, though he offered no more than that. Seeming a bit embarrassed or perhaps sheepish. “You mentioned that the fire reminded you of where you lived before, is that the home you meant?”
"...n-no. No, Luca Black...let me live with him and his family for a moon. They had a fireplace, and I thought it was the most luxurious thing." He looked at the fire. "...mostly because I could read when I couldn't sleep. I had never had much in the way of a fireplace, let alone the wood or coal or crystals for flames. I don't mind though."
Anselme glanced up with a small smile, unaware as the cookie broke and sank to the depths of the tea. “Luca is something of a brother to you?”
Quincy looked sheepish, then shrugged. "I...he's a friend of mine. I'm someone he helped, I...I don't know that I'm much more than that." Uncomfortably, Quincy looked down at the books he had open, adjusting the bookmarks nestled in the pages. "I just want to see them all get their lives back, then I...I suppose I'll have to go and get mine in order."
The door swung open... and then shut with a bit of a 'thud'. Steps that were taken with purpose followed the noisey entry. " Gemini!"
Quincy flinched at the noise, then looked towards the foyer and hastily closed his books, stacking them awkwardly with what was clearly his non-dominant hand.
Anselme lifted the biscuit to have a bite, only then realizing that most of it had mysteriously disappeared. He peered down into the teacup and quirked a brow. Aha. With a shrug he looked back over to the boy, finding Quincy looking busily down at his books. He gave him a brief bittersweet sort of smile. “Maybe you’ll find pieces of yours along the way…” He trailed off at the sound of a shout, flinching slightly before he looked over towards the entryway. “Good evening, Lady Argent.” He called out cheerfully.
Quincy looks up in a betrayed way, whispering in a hiss. "Why would you summon her?"
Anselme smiled blankly at the whispering, plainly not understanding the other’s concern. “She’s been perfectly lovely to me thus far?” He whispered back, more than a little confused. “Why?”
Quincy continues to whisper. "She's the nobelist of them all, she makes me nervous!"
"Gemini!" Cassiopeia d’Argent continued to call, marching through the foyer with a large, and old, book under arm. " Gem, I-.. O-oh...!"
Quincy gives Cassi a startled look, then rises and bobs an awkward bow, sling and all.
Anselme winced slightly at that, rubbing at the back of his own neck a little awkwardly. Entirely unwilling to ruin all of the pleasant company they had just shared by admitting his own lineage. He rose to his feet nonetheless to bow politely as Cassiopeia entered the room. “I haven’t seen him, I suspect the Lord isn’t at home.”
Cassiopeia looked startled that it was not her brother who occupied the sitting room. She made eye contact with Quincy first, and glanced briefly at the back of Anselme's head. For perhaps the first time since she'd come to know Quincy, Cassi looked... embarrassed. She cleared her throat and shifted her weight. " M-my apologies. I didn't realize that-" Cassi double took at Quincy. " Wait a moment.. what happened to your arm?"
Leopolt Suvois blinks. "...Hang on, I know this one." He holds up a finger, his other hand resting on his chin as he looks down at the carpet. "Uhh, Astro is...Astrology, must be." He mumbles to himself. "And mancy is...You...Control the stars?" He said, directing the last bit to Cassi.
Cassiopeia d’Argent rolled her eyes, thinking it was better to just take it for what it was. " Close enough."
Quincy Pallene nodded and looked sidelong at Cassi. He turns back to the book before he's CAUGHT.
"That's weird. I'd prefer to just settle things with my fists." Leopolt added.
" Of course you would." Cassiopeia replied flatly.
Anselme de Haillenarte sat back on the couch to look over at the others discussing fighting and what have you. “If you ever want a training partner once you start your path to knighthood, I’d be happy to go a few rounds. Can’t go soft while I’m on leave and all.” He offered cheerfully. “I’m Anselme, by the by. I don’t believe I caught your name. Only your names for everyone else.”
"I'm Leopolt. Let's fight."
--
Anselme opted to change more than just his boots. He rolled up his sleeve as he came out into the yard. "Thank you for your patience, my apologies. I didn't want to bleed on my other shirt."
"Good call!” Leo called back.
Cassiopeia looked upon Leopolt. Oh good, he wore red.
"See, you were clever enough to wear red." Anselme congratulated with a smile.
Cassiopeia smirked.
Quincy smiles softly, quietly.
"Pah! There's an easy fix for that!"
Cassiopeia's frowned, suddenly. " No-no-no-no-!" Cassi seemed to know what was coming! She held out an arm-
Leopolt grabs the hem of his uniform shirt and tears the whole thing away in one swift motion. It floats away in the breeze, landing beside Quincy.
Anselme shook out his hands and adjusted his gloves, crackling his knuckles before he curled his fingers into careful fists. "Oh? Perhaps to dye mine- ah..." He laughed heartily as the other simply discarded his shirt. And to think he'd felt briefly ashamed for being around Cassi in his shirtsleeves!
Leopolt clearly felt no shame!
Quincy Pallene looks mortified on Leo's behalf.
Cassiopeia just looked mortified.
Quincy covers his eyes with a gloved hand. "There are YOUTH present!"
Cassiopeia Argent rolled her eyes so hard they may as well have done backflips.
"So, we doing this?" Leopolt asked, plainly unfazed by the commentary.
“Of course, please. I suspect it may be for the best before Quincy or Lady Argent have a fit. For chivalry’s sake I’ll allow you the first strike.” Anselme bowed politely then straightened up and settled into a ready stance with fists lifted.
