"Excellent." Julius makes a note. "He's in Sashamiri as well, I know him a little. Ellis may also be worth sending; solid organizational skills, a griffon rider. I'll make a list of a few other names for your review."
Ellis is reliable, he thinks but doesn't say. Instead, his agreement takes some broader slant—nodding as he collects the closer chart book from Julius' desk and returns it under his arm.
"I suppose I don't have to tell you that it would be preferable everyone on that list know how to handle a weapon."
No, that's so self evident that it might pass for a kind of humor even without the brief slanting pull of his mouth to underscore it.
"Griffons,"—this much is serious, spurred by the mention of Ellis' expertise—"May prove useful in this. I'll see that whatever roster is pulled supports that."
Just a bit wry, of his first point: "Yes, I don't imagine this will be a mission well suited to Serah Niehaus. But I take your point. I'll get you that list of names within the day. It wouldn't do to waste this sort of opportunity." He doesn't think they're likely to get many windfalls like this one.
There's a kind of pleasure in this that's specific to a very particular kind of predator—the mongoose who chooses to wrestles snakes, the dog who chases wolves, or maybe thirty men stuffed into a single mast sailing boat looking to claw up the side of a merchant cargo ship. How dangerous the prospect; how doable. It sparks a rare kind of enthusiasm so visible in Flint that it naturally begs the question, How fucking dull must he find his other work?
Indeed there's a split second where it seems as if he means to linger there in Julius' company in an effort to find some further point to turn over for the simple satisfaction of it. The moment he thinks better of it and resolves otherwise is just as blatantly written as that sly good humor has been.
"Should anything else occur to you while arranging it, include some note."
Good talk, says his curt nod. Flint moves to dismiss himself promptly thereafter.
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"I suppose I don't have to tell you that it would be preferable everyone on that list know how to handle a weapon."
No, that's so self evident that it might pass for a kind of humor even without the brief slanting pull of his mouth to underscore it.
"Griffons,"—this much is serious, spurred by the mention of Ellis' expertise—"May prove useful in this. I'll see that whatever roster is pulled supports that."
no subject
no subject
Indeed there's a split second where it seems as if he means to linger there in Julius' company in an effort to find some further point to turn over for the simple satisfaction of it. The moment he thinks better of it and resolves otherwise is just as blatantly written as that sly good humor has been.
"Should anything else occur to you while arranging it, include some note."
Good talk, says his curt nod. Flint moves to dismiss himself promptly thereafter.