narrative ❖ let us talk about peace and think about war
"No."
"But Coordinator, you seemed so enthusiastic before."
"That was before you informed me that you were making me take Leela along and told me what Leela was going as. An exotic dancer that I picked personally?" The redness of the Coordinator's face is difficult to decide: humiliation or anger? "You do realise what this will look like to other people, the other delegates-... to my agents?" The following pause of realisation isn't very long. "... Yes. Yes, I suppose you do. I expect you know exactly what you're doing."
The Cardinal's sigh is long-winded and long-suffering and longingly regretful. "As much as I would adore to take credit in something that's so obviously making you suffer... I'm afraid it wasn't my idea. It was Romana who suggested it. She said it would show the other temporal powers that Gallifrey is more open to different cultures than they might believe. She also mentioned that it might remind you, after you called that inquiry, who, exactly, is in charge?"
"I was only doing my duty." The Coordinator's tone would be petulant, if he weren't the head of the CIA and didn't say anything petulantly.
"Of course you were," drawls the Cardinal with knowing indifference.
"I know you're planning something, Braxiatel. You and Romana. I just wish I knew what it was."
"Such lack of trust, Coordinator. You really do do me a disservice."
Narvin scowls in irritation. "Do you honestly think that I believe that you would pick me as the best person to represent Gallifrey at a peace summit? Without something else in mind?" Because even to him, the proposal seems... unwise. He isn't the ideal candidate for talks about a peace treaty and that is... well it's something of an understatement, to say the least. And if he wouldn't trust himself to not create a scene, then he highly doubts that they do.
"There's no need to be modest, Narvin. We're only asking that you have faith in our faith in you."
"I don't." As if he would.
Shrugging is not for politicians, but Braxiatel had perfected his way of doing it in words rather than motions a very, very long time ago. "And it's just as well. But would you disobey your President?"
Short. Curt. "No. But that doesn't mean I won't question it. Just what are you up to?"
"All in due time, Coordinator. All in due time."
And that's the most he'll get, along with that insufferable arrogant all-knowing little smile.
"I'm going to speak to Leela about this."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"And why not?"
"Because Leela isn't quite as aware of the implications as you are, and Romana hasn't told her. Yet. ...Rather defeats the purpose of sending you as a representative if you're dead, you see."
"Of course. Only in my best interests," he spits sardonically. "And when she does find out? I suppose being stabbed to death in front of the other delegates wouldn't send out the wrong sort of message at all?"
"The message of being against untrustworthy coordinators? How awful."
"If we're comparing untrustworthiness, Cardinal, might I reminded you that I am not the politician in this room."
The Cardinal's smile flickers, but it just manages to remain in place as he sweeps himself out the door, being as grand as possible.
"Good luck, Narvin. Try not to throw us all into interminable war? It's the least you could do."
"I don't make promises I can't keep. I'm afraid that's more in your area. Good day, Cardinal."
"But Coordinator, you seemed so enthusiastic before."
"That was before you informed me that you were making me take Leela along and told me what Leela was going as. An exotic dancer that I picked personally?" The redness of the Coordinator's face is difficult to decide: humiliation or anger? "You do realise what this will look like to other people, the other delegates-... to my agents?" The following pause of realisation isn't very long. "... Yes. Yes, I suppose you do. I expect you know exactly what you're doing."
The Cardinal's sigh is long-winded and long-suffering and longingly regretful. "As much as I would adore to take credit in something that's so obviously making you suffer... I'm afraid it wasn't my idea. It was Romana who suggested it. She said it would show the other temporal powers that Gallifrey is more open to different cultures than they might believe. She also mentioned that it might remind you, after you called that inquiry, who, exactly, is in charge?"
"I was only doing my duty." The Coordinator's tone would be petulant, if he weren't the head of the CIA and didn't say anything petulantly.
"Of course you were," drawls the Cardinal with knowing indifference.
"I know you're planning something, Braxiatel. You and Romana. I just wish I knew what it was."
"Such lack of trust, Coordinator. You really do do me a disservice."
Narvin scowls in irritation. "Do you honestly think that I believe that you would pick me as the best person to represent Gallifrey at a peace summit? Without something else in mind?" Because even to him, the proposal seems... unwise. He isn't the ideal candidate for talks about a peace treaty and that is... well it's something of an understatement, to say the least. And if he wouldn't trust himself to not create a scene, then he highly doubts that they do.
"There's no need to be modest, Narvin. We're only asking that you have faith in our faith in you."
"I don't." As if he would.
Shrugging is not for politicians, but Braxiatel had perfected his way of doing it in words rather than motions a very, very long time ago. "And it's just as well. But would you disobey your President?"
Short. Curt. "No. But that doesn't mean I won't question it. Just what are you up to?"
"All in due time, Coordinator. All in due time."
And that's the most he'll get, along with that insufferable arrogant all-knowing little smile.
"I'm going to speak to Leela about this."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"And why not?"
"Because Leela isn't quite as aware of the implications as you are, and Romana hasn't told her. Yet. ...Rather defeats the purpose of sending you as a representative if you're dead, you see."
"Of course. Only in my best interests," he spits sardonically. "And when she does find out? I suppose being stabbed to death in front of the other delegates wouldn't send out the wrong sort of message at all?"
"The message of being against untrustworthy coordinators? How awful."
"If we're comparing untrustworthiness, Cardinal, might I reminded you that I am not the politician in this room."
The Cardinal's smile flickers, but it just manages to remain in place as he sweeps himself out the door, being as grand as possible.
"Good luck, Narvin. Try not to throw us all into interminable war? It's the least you could do."
"I don't make promises I can't keep. I'm afraid that's more in your area. Good day, Cardinal."