"We work toward a compromise that doesn't fracture us, but does make it clear we aren't above our own rules? No voting shit. Nobody leaves until it's unanimous. One of those things." She doesn't know the word for that in Trade either.
"I kinda just came up with that right now." She shakes her head. "I really came here to talk about making sure Jones was safe. But if you think it's not a cowshit proposal, I'll shop it around."
"Ride the sword's edge between sedition and discretion," he remarks, wry.
"What would you think fitting, for a punishment?" He gestures lazily to indicate, perhaps, two sides of a scale. "Something that preserves his authority among the rest, yet still allows for the weight of his choices magnified by his position."
She quirks a brow. "You're not my type." A pause. "Wait, sedition's a different word..."
But, seriously. "I'd give him less access to information unless it would keep him from doing his job. And, yeah, less of a say in things. Not none, but less. Wouldn't make it public unless he did himself. Not sure how long."
He glances upward, a brief pleading to a god who is not there.
"He is not Research, he is Forces. He needs that information to do his duty, unless the rest of us carried the burden for a while longer. As for his vote- perhaps prevent him from breaking ties."
She considers this carefully, before her expression lightens. Not quite a smile, but more collected than before. Less cold, quiet rage.
"Well," she said, "you've convinced me it's something that needs more careful thought. Like I said, I really only meant to tell you about Jones." A grateful nod in that direction. "But I hope I've convinced you... not doing something about Flint still makes us petty kings. Tyrants, whatever you wanna call it. I'll think on something to do, and if you've ideas, I'm open."
She looks almost offended in surprise. "Of course I'm gonna talk to Byerly. Nobody here believes a word I say..." Still shaking her head, she continues toward the door.
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Close mouth.
"I kinda just came up with that right now." She shakes her head. "I really came here to talk about making sure Jones was safe. But if you think it's not a cowshit proposal, I'll shop it around."
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"What would you think fitting, for a punishment?" He gestures lazily to indicate, perhaps, two sides of a scale. "Something that preserves his authority among the rest, yet still allows for the weight of his choices magnified by his position."
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But, seriously. "I'd give him less access to information unless it would keep him from doing his job. And, yeah, less of a say in things. Not none, but less. Wouldn't make it public unless he did himself. Not sure how long."
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"He is not Research, he is Forces. He needs that information to do his duty, unless the rest of us carried the burden for a while longer. As for his vote- perhaps prevent him from breaking ties."
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"Well," she said, "you've convinced me it's something that needs more careful thought. Like I said, I really only meant to tell you about Jones." A grateful nod in that direction. "But I hope I've convinced you... not doing something about Flint still makes us petty kings. Tyrants, whatever you wanna call it. I'll think on something to do, and if you've ideas, I'm open."
She takes a step, two, toward the door.
"And- thank you."
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He exhales. He would pour himself a glass, but.
"Speak to Byerly, or do not. If you bring it up, I will speak in support. If you do not, then perhaps I will."
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And there are his manners, appearing as she takes her leave.
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