"We have time to spare." Ienzo agrees, rather relaxed now that they're here behind closed doors, with the shade drawn and the desk lamp casting low, greenish light about the office. It feels like the world's grown more intimate and more nostalgic, here on the floor in front of Wilkes' cabinet.
Even the convival slap on the back reminds him of his older friends, picking on him just a little, ruffling his hair or shoving him about (but never too much- a look from Aeleus or a sharper, silencing word from Lord Ansem's first adopted son kept him safe from rough handling). The sound of laughter ringing across the ground and in the halls was something he'd been feeling contemptuous out this term, but when Edmund sniggers at his misfortunate gulp, there's friendliness to it that makes him smile back shyly, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his blazer.
"I told you, it's miles more efficient than what they'll let college boys toss back in the pub." He coughed, wishing he had a glass of water to gulp down and ease the warmth pooling in his belly, absorbing swiftly. It used to take only a few minutes to feel lightheaded and skin-fuzzed, when they let him try a toddy. Surely a few seasons hasn't improved his tolerance that much. But Pevensie's already blown ahead of him into a third swallow, and so he feels obliged to keep pace.
"The Ancients had all kinds of funny stuff like that?" The boy declares loftily, shrugging up one shoulder, trying to play casual. "I mean, look at the Classics, even, and they're none so prudish about it? Look at the things they painted on urns! It was downright respectable to have... dionyesian revels, erastes, things like that." He babbles quickly, not breaching the subject delicately so much as dashing across it as if it were a bed of hot coals- maybe even with a little too much enthusiasm, given his nervous awareness of rumors and suspicions.
Ienzo cleared his throat again, and set the bottle down between his folded legs.
"You know, ah... get on with his colleagues?" He waved his hand in indication of the office and its haphazard clutter- Professor Wilkes was a bit of an old oddball, even to the rest of faculty. "Can you imagine him in a secret society? I mean, I guess if they're also all magpie lunatics, the freemasons, but aren't they supposed to be the ones really puppeteering the whole world from the shadows?"
"Wilkes doesn't seem like that. Not unless all of this is a really swell front."
no subject
Even the convival slap on the back reminds him of his older friends, picking on him just a little, ruffling his hair or shoving him about (but never too much- a look from Aeleus or a sharper, silencing word from Lord Ansem's first adopted son kept him safe from rough handling). The sound of laughter ringing across the ground and in the halls was something he'd been feeling contemptuous out this term, but when Edmund sniggers at his misfortunate gulp, there's friendliness to it that makes him smile back shyly, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his blazer.
"I told you, it's miles more efficient than what they'll let college boys toss back in the pub." He coughed, wishing he had a glass of water to gulp down and ease the warmth pooling in his belly, absorbing swiftly. It used to take only a few minutes to feel lightheaded and skin-fuzzed, when they let him try a toddy. Surely a few seasons hasn't improved his tolerance that much. But Pevensie's already blown ahead of him into a third swallow, and so he feels obliged to keep pace.
"The Ancients had all kinds of funny stuff like that?" The boy declares loftily, shrugging up one shoulder, trying to play casual. "I mean, look at the Classics, even, and they're none so prudish about it? Look at the things they painted on urns! It was downright respectable to have... dionyesian revels, erastes, things like that." He babbles quickly, not breaching the subject delicately so much as dashing across it as if it were a bed of hot coals- maybe even with a little too much enthusiasm, given his nervous awareness of rumors and suspicions.
Ienzo cleared his throat again, and set the bottle down between his folded legs.
"You know, ah... get on with his colleagues?" He waved his hand in indication of the office and its haphazard clutter- Professor Wilkes was a bit of an old oddball, even to the rest of faculty. "Can you imagine him in a secret society? I mean, I guess if they're also all magpie lunatics, the freemasons, but aren't they supposed to be the ones really puppeteering the whole world from the shadows?"
"Wilkes doesn't seem like that. Not unless all of this is a really swell front."