![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
"There's all kind of dangerous men, right?"
Havelock tilts his head at the amn sitting opposite, face thrown into shadow by the flames. After a moment, the young assassin nods.
"Undoubtedly."
"You are, but that's stating the obvious. Assassin, aren't you? Not my kind of thing, really. Idea always rubbed me the wrong way." His tone is belligerent, as if expecting argument. Somehow it makes it even less offensive. All men are entitled to an opinion, no matter how some others would like to have it.
The fire flares as a cheerful pair of soldiers stroll by, singing off key. A scar down one side of the man's face is thrown momentarily into relief as he takes a reflective puff on a thick cigar.
"Takes all kinds. They called me a dangerous man, and I suppose so, but that's all situation. How much did they know, up at the Palace, then?"
"Some knew very little. Others..."
A mirthless laugh. "Others knew it all, huh? Yeah. Makes sense. You knew?"
"Yes."
"Fair enough." Another puff of smoke. An urchin prances by behind him, conducting the raucous chorus with a battered tin spoon and a grin. "We're dangerous enough, y'know. But when you get the stupid ones, and get them in power... messy, as I expect you're aware."
"Very."
The other man chuckles, and Havelock can see the suggestion of a grin before he looks down to reach into his pocket. A hardboiled egg emerges, and the man rolls it between his palms to crack the shell as he continues. "But you reckon you're not stupid. You watch yourself. I suppose it's a start."
"I always do."
"But who watches the you that's watching you?" he asks sharply.
Havelock raises an eyebrow back, as the figure leans forward.
"...My aunt, usually."
This time the man throws his head back to laugh. "Good at watching, aunts, as a rule. Fine, then. Not like I can stop you trying. Not now."
The assassin bows his head slightly. "No, Sergeant Keel. I don't intend that anyone will."
John Keel squints back through his one good eye. "I think I'll watch that. You can't be worse than this lot," he says scornfully, jerking a thumb back at the shadow of the palace behind.
Havelock smiles slowly.
"That depends," he says, "On who you are."
Havelock tilts his head at the amn sitting opposite, face thrown into shadow by the flames. After a moment, the young assassin nods.
"Undoubtedly."
"You are, but that's stating the obvious. Assassin, aren't you? Not my kind of thing, really. Idea always rubbed me the wrong way." His tone is belligerent, as if expecting argument. Somehow it makes it even less offensive. All men are entitled to an opinion, no matter how some others would like to have it.
The fire flares as a cheerful pair of soldiers stroll by, singing off key. A scar down one side of the man's face is thrown momentarily into relief as he takes a reflective puff on a thick cigar.
"Takes all kinds. They called me a dangerous man, and I suppose so, but that's all situation. How much did they know, up at the Palace, then?"
"Some knew very little. Others..."
A mirthless laugh. "Others knew it all, huh? Yeah. Makes sense. You knew?"
"Yes."
"Fair enough." Another puff of smoke. An urchin prances by behind him, conducting the raucous chorus with a battered tin spoon and a grin. "We're dangerous enough, y'know. But when you get the stupid ones, and get them in power... messy, as I expect you're aware."
"Very."
The other man chuckles, and Havelock can see the suggestion of a grin before he looks down to reach into his pocket. A hardboiled egg emerges, and the man rolls it between his palms to crack the shell as he continues. "But you reckon you're not stupid. You watch yourself. I suppose it's a start."
"I always do."
"But who watches the you that's watching you?" he asks sharply.
Havelock raises an eyebrow back, as the figure leans forward.
"...My aunt, usually."
This time the man throws his head back to laugh. "Good at watching, aunts, as a rule. Fine, then. Not like I can stop you trying. Not now."
The assassin bows his head slightly. "No, Sergeant Keel. I don't intend that anyone will."
John Keel squints back through his one good eye. "I think I'll watch that. You can't be worse than this lot," he says scornfully, jerking a thumb back at the shadow of the palace behind.
Havelock smiles slowly.
"That depends," he says, "On who you are."
