@sleepdriftng as josephine montilyet : ❛ i will never be without information. ❜
ADMITTEDLY THERE'S SOMETHING COMFORTINGLY FAMILIAR ABOUT INTERACTING WITH SOMEBODY LIKE THE AMBASSADOR. it has been many years since simeon settled largely in orlais, a curiosity from a land far removed, one which select few in all of thedas – let alone only in orlais – could lay claim to having visited at all. by design, sim well knows, although he certainly would not advertise the fact. conveniently, it makes him an oddity who tends to draw at least some attention from the elite, enough to forge his persona for all the court. it is so simple, he thinks, to lean into the perceptions others wish to maintain. from there, he merely feeds the flames, allows those with whom he interacts to believe what they will about who and what he is. and he cannot pretend he finds no degree of delight in the charade, in the act itself, in what feels often like a game ... if, of course, he ignores the potential stakes.
but the ambassador surely is no fool, a fact of which he's been fully aware since the moment they first met. as foolish as he appears to most – most, of course, meaning those who do not bother even an attempt to see beneath the mask – he ever endeavors to observe as closely as he can the actions and manner of others. for a man with so little in the way of a warrior's skill, to read the intentions of others is his greatest defense. while he is no politician, not really, he certainly functions like one, the son of a merchant prince from a land made real only by the presence of sim and his wares. he lacks josephine's learning, he's certain, and imagines his mind cannot possibly compete. but he has his charm, and that will have to do.
" a noble goal, certainly, lady montilyet, and one I surely admire, " he answers, gesturing casually across the table with his goblet. as he so often does, simeon maintains an easy, charming smile, a radiant expression for which he's rather well known in the circles which most often host him. still those sharp blue eyes of his refuse to yield, determined as always to pull back layer after layer, even as he appears casual, flippant, even irresponsible in his manner. " but not all information is created equal, which I am certain you already know. someone of your standing must receive much of it that proves ... deficient, at best. " if not an outright lie, goes unsaid. " tell me. when you filter such intelligence, how do you determine accuracy posthaste? " his mouth curls slightly more in delight as he leans forward, as though sharing a secret across the grand wooden table. " if you share your strategies, then so shall I. "
