private to Bull;

[tevinteriscoming]

[After the trial lets out, he's tired, but not ready to go back to his room and fall asleep. Instead, he takes his several bottles of wine left over from ordering at the trial and will go find a place to drink in privacy. Before he departs, he notices Bull, and considers maybe speaking to him - but, instead, cheerily suggests he might be amenable to sharing a bottle, and then leaves without telling Bull where he'll actually be.

The place he winds up in is the chapel. Why not, it's quiet, and no one is in here, and the idea of it tickles his subversive streak.

It's decent enough wine but he didn't get any cups, so he's drinking straight out of the bottle as he lounges on one of the pews.]

Comments

[qundercover]

Considered that as a cover once, you know. Would have been good at it. Pretty good information channels, decent amount of fighting, just turns out replacing all those broken stools after a bar fight gets expensive.

[Shut up Dorian u like it thick.]

Disaster. Yeah. About covers it.

[tevinteriscoming]

[He does. In more than one sense.]

The fact that we were right is a small consolation. But then, it was clearly her. I know that I am exceptionally clever, but there should really have been no doubt.

So, what. Ought we, once we think we've solved it, simply demand the rest follow along? I suspect the majority would gladly allow themselves to be herded. It would certainly avoid the panic.

[qundercover]

Two for two so far.

[ Bull starts drinking. These are questions you can't answer sober. ]

Sometimes you have to let folks figure it out for themselves. Once you start demanding, you got the type that dig their heels in. Refuse to believe when something is obviously true. [ There's a lot of people here who would do very badly under the Qun. That much is obvious. ] You lay out the facts, say what the right thing might be. Really all you can do.

[tevinteriscoming]

[That's actually kind of a relief.]

I know that much. Frankly, it is a dizzingly new experience for me to espouse my views on any subject whatsoever, and not be cursed at. Or just cursed. Or spat upon. [Sigh, not meant particularly seriously.] Imagine what life must be for the sort who waltz in places and get listened to, or inspire everyone to get along and work together. That Dorian fellow seems reasonable enough, perhaps he's Andraste's herald, let's follow him blindly from now on. No, I suspect it's genetic.

It's more that I wish I knew the appropriate moment to say, well, it's quite clear Tsukuyo is the killer. Despite knowing everyone unable or unwilling to think it through themselves will agree with me, and despite knowing my reasoning is at least partially based on it being ridiculous for anyone else to have done it.