Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
baetiful) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-07-08 10:49 pm
baetiful) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-07-08 10:49 pm
[CLOSED]
WHO: Petyr Baelish and Jorah Mormont
WHERE: The Iron Throne
WHEN: Early July
WHAT: Baelish hangs with his pal. Who he pays to hang around him.
WARNINGS: Apart from taking place in a strip club, none. Will update as needed!
[ It's the early hours of the morning just before the sun rises when the Iron Throne has closed its doors for the night. Petyr happens to be there on this particular night, delivering paychecks to the girls who always seem to take it with glee. Part of working for Baelish means an excellent career. It also means that he can afford to be picky and choose only the best of the best. So when the last girl leaves, a pretty redhead who gives him a kiss on the cheek when she goes, Petyr heads over to the bar where he spots his surly bodyguard.
Going behind it, he pulls out a couple of glasses, pouring some whiskey for the both of them as he settles onto the stool beside Jorah. ]
I have your check as well. But I was hoping to have a moment to talk.
[ It had been strictly business for the most part since everything went down with Jorah, Daenerys and Jaime. Baelish hadn't been frosty, but he also hadn't been terribly friendly. He paid Jorah. Jorah had to put up with hanging around inside or outside of places Baelish went. And then at the end of the day, they went their separate ways.
But today was a different sort of day. Today, Baelish wanted to talk. ]
It can be on the books or off. Depending upon your urgency to return to your home...
WHERE: The Iron Throne
WHEN: Early July
WHAT: Baelish hangs with his pal. Who he pays to hang around him.
WARNINGS: Apart from taking place in a strip club, none. Will update as needed!
[ It's the early hours of the morning just before the sun rises when the Iron Throne has closed its doors for the night. Petyr happens to be there on this particular night, delivering paychecks to the girls who always seem to take it with glee. Part of working for Baelish means an excellent career. It also means that he can afford to be picky and choose only the best of the best. So when the last girl leaves, a pretty redhead who gives him a kiss on the cheek when she goes, Petyr heads over to the bar where he spots his surly bodyguard.
Going behind it, he pulls out a couple of glasses, pouring some whiskey for the both of them as he settles onto the stool beside Jorah. ]
I have your check as well. But I was hoping to have a moment to talk.
[ It had been strictly business for the most part since everything went down with Jorah, Daenerys and Jaime. Baelish hadn't been frosty, but he also hadn't been terribly friendly. He paid Jorah. Jorah had to put up with hanging around inside or outside of places Baelish went. And then at the end of the day, they went their separate ways.
But today was a different sort of day. Today, Baelish wanted to talk. ]
It can be on the books or off. Depending upon your urgency to return to your home...
no subject
Most importantly of all, he hasn’t kidnapped anyone else on Baelish’s payroll.
The change in his mood after the dreamworld debacle has been negligible without the context of conversation -- from quiet and closed to more quiet and more closed. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to fall since he scraped the Kingslayer off a slab of piss-stinking concrete with Will Graham.
So when Lord Baelish slots himself in behind a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, Jorah unfolds himself into a more upright lean, not quite sitting on the stool under his hip. Respectful. Ish.
Bracing, mostly. ]
What’s on your mind?
s c r e a m. I never got the notif for this. >((
The election.
[ The glass is set back down on the counter. ]
Jon Snow would not be the ideal choice to win the election for De Chima's new ambassador. I'm not certain the sort of relationship you've forged with him. If the two of you are friendly.
[ Like the sort of friendship Jorah built with Rincewind. Behind Baelish's back. Which. Is. FINE. ]
But friendliness has nothing to do with capability. And of the candidates, a few of them have that capability. I believe Sam Merlotte perhaps most of all.
how dare
He’s his father’s son, [ he says, plain as the wood of the bar under his elbow.
No risk of a Snow vote, here -- no trace of irony or deception in the rough of his voice or an even glance.
On the subject of Sam Merlotte: Ser Jorah stretches his back, and sinks into more of a sit, like an old dog that has no choice but to make peace with its situation while it’s rubbed over by a cat. Settling in. ]
I’ve never voted.
[ Just throwing that out there. He drains his glass. ]
no subject
[ So vote for Sam, Mormont. ]
It would be ideal if you supported Sam. It would be monetarily beneficial if you supported Sam. But I certainly won't force you.
[ The biggest bullet was dodged by Jorah saying those simple words: he's his father's son. There's no risk of him voting Jon Snow at the least. And that's what matters most about the issue. Sam doesn't have to win so long as Jon loses. ]
Speaking of Jon Snow's father -- I saw Ned arrived recently.
no subject
Debate.
And they’re still locked in a cold war, regularly entrenched in some new state of disaster. ]
He’s been quiet, [ he says of Ned Stark, dismissive to the point of arrogance in the privacy of the Throne after hours. Undead wolves don’t rate on the list of his concerns in America. ]
What is it about Sam?
no subject
[ Petyr answers easily and quickly. What is it about Sam? The answer is nothing. ]
He's not remarkable. He's not the world's best hope for De Chima. But he stands a good chance of winning. Sam knows how to talk and he knows how to get people to like him.
[ And more than that, he's movable. For Baelish and for Mitch. ]
Which means he stands a chance of defeating Jon Snow.
[ And that is the aim. The Stark family would unite to vote Jon in. With so many candidates spread across the election, Baelish could not afford to not dip his hands in and try to force it a certain way. ]
I thought you would be in support of him, truth be told. I know the Queen is rather fond of him...
[ Which means she might have had this conversation with Jorah already. But also, Baelish is being a little bit of an asshole with that comment. ]
no subject
His expression darkens predictably at that last little jab, and he reaches long for the whiskey to help himself to another round. Moody shadows storm subdued along the bones of his face; his beard prickles bitter at the chops. Evidence of an answer bitten back while he pours. ]
Aye, [ he says, with a look as he sets the bottle back aside. ] Fonder of him than she is of you.
no subject
[ Baelish appears unperturbed by the insult. Most people don't like him. It's not anything new. But there might also be a deeper reason for Jorah's words. It could be a warning that the Targaryen alliance was treading on thin ice. He hadn't spoken to Daenerys since her fashion show. And who knew the sorts of things she and Jorah spoke about where he was concerned.
But surely, the two of them knew better when it came to attacking an imPort ambassador. So he wasn't necessarily worried about being a target. ]
no subject
The answer is no, of course.
But Petyr is pulling his whiskers, and he’s in no hurry to mount a defense. He’s been here a year, now, riding escort, following orders and fighting monsters in sewers, mired in shit. If Queen Daenerys ordered him to stab Baelish in the back this late in the game, Jorah’d formally register his objections before he did it.
So far as he knows, there’s no need. Everyone’s getting along famously.
He lifts his glass. ]
If you prefer.
no subject
[ Quips Petyr in response. ]
I'd like to hope we've reached the stage in our relationship where you would not toss me over your shoulder like a sack of barley.
[ He pours himself another glass and offers the same for Jorah. The fact that Jorah has chosen banter proves what Petyr thought to be true. Daenerys would not go after him. She was wiser than that. And what did it matter in the end if she liked Sam more than him? Because she probably liked Sam more than Jorah, too. ]
no subject
One wise decision after another. ]
I thought that went without saying.
[ Were he more secure about his placement on Daenerys’ line graph relative to Petyr and especially Sam, he’d probably be in a better mood. As things are, he thumbs idle at the leather band of his watch, only slightly better for conversation than an empty seat. ]
She knows what her father was. [ Back to business. ] Now she knows what Ser Jaime is.
no subject
[ Baelish glances over at Jorah curiously. He only heard the vague details about that meeting. And Jaime remains alive and well -- well....relatively. He's still missing a hand and still remains pompously arrogant for the most part. ]
Did the three of you walk away from that meeting with an understanding? Or had you simply agreed to disagree?
[ Likely Jorah had done nothing but stand there and prevent Jaime from leaving until Daenerys had dismissed him. But he had still been present. He could still fill in the gaps. Or he could evade the question which would prove there's something they're trying to keep Petyr in the dark about. ]
no subject
Vulgar, [ he says. ] Alone. Useless with one hand.
[ This is what Ser Jorah sees; he can only assume the same is true of anyone else with eyes and ears and some sense of what Jaime was before. His pity is difficult to distinguish from contempt in the lines fuzzed in grim around his mouth, and a further look away. Lannisters. ]
He understands. So does she. [ Jorah had done nothing but stand there to prevent Jaime from leaving, it’s true. Afterwards he and the Kingslayer had exchanged words, but none that bear repeating.
He looks at Baelish across the bar. ]
No mockingbirds in Nonah?
no subject
[ He answers airily, thumbing at one of the many rings on his hand. ]
But they'll only keep being mockingbirds unless I make a request of them.
[ And fortunately for the trio, Baelish hadn't a clue that Nonah would be the chosen destination for their little meeting. ]
Contrary to what some may believe, these mockingbirds aren't under my control. I simply befriend them and they're motivated to act on my behalf for all the special treats I feed them. That and my extraordinarily charming company. To which you can attest.
[ Lifting his glass in Jorah's direction. Well. One of them has to be the charming one out of this pair, otherwise it would just be two old grumpy men sitting in silence. ]
no subject
[ At Daenerys’ behest.
She doesn’t have birds. ]
Why is Snow running for office? [ is the sort of question liquor and the late hour are more apt to bring out of him, low and earnest in the relative privacy of a gentleman’s club after hours. And while they’re on the subject anyway: ] Why did you?
There’s nothing to gain. [ Not in the traditional sense. No wars to win, no legacies to leave behind. There are no thrones, or armies, or houses to ply. ] You could vanish at any moment, and these people would elect a talking boat to take your place.
no subject
As far as I can tell, Jon Snow is running because he was fucking the previous ambassador.
[ Responds Littlefinger with little love for Jon Snow. His tone is easy and even playful -- mocking of Jon Snow's whole claim to the position. ]
He believes that entitles him to continue on her work. Little does he realize that wetting one's cock does not carry the same weight as it does back in our own world.
[ Baelish smirks and it's an impish sort of look. A child who delights in saying wicked things and belittling those who naturally claimed respect in their world. If only life could be nearly as easy for Petyr Baelish and Jorah Mormont as it was for good-looking Jon Snow with his Stark and Targaryen blood. ]
But as for why I opted to run for office -- no matter how long I'm within this world, I know I can make an impact. I can set things into motion that will create the changes we wish to see in this city long after I've ported out. But to make that difference, one needs the position to do so. Your Khaleesi is sailing across the narrow sea toward Westeros as we speak. And do you believe all the work she accomplished in Essos was for naught? Likely, she will claim The Iron Throne and rule the realm, never to return to the east again. Will the things she's done and fought for simply go back to how they were? Will slavery return in full without her presence there?
Possibly. But unlikely. Because she broke that fate and made it anew. And while Maurtia Falls is paltry in comparison, the thought process is still similar. I will lay the groundwork for change, and that change will continue even after I've vanished from this world.
no subject
He’s still doing the math when the word ‘Khaleesi’ pulls his eyes back into focus -- nigh instinctive attention soon salted with a trace of suspicion.
There are words he’s worked to cycle out of his vocabulary beyond closed doors, Littlefinger and Khaleesi among them. This time, he’s slower to settle back into the default neutrality of drinking while he listens. Warier, in a lazy kind of way. Like he can’t be arsed to overly concern himself when he’s all but taken out a full page ad proclaiming his presiding loyalty to her anyway.
In the end, after gathering his thoughts and probing them for anything convincingly supportive to say -- he nods. And grunts. It’s an agreeable grunt. Understanding. Invested.
This is why he doesn’t have (m)any friends. ]
no subject
He smiles to himself, bringing the glass to his lips. ]
Besides, I figure if I plan for a long future in this world, perhaps the porter will grant one for me. I am in no hurry to return to the Westerosi war and winter. And you are likely in no hurry either.
[ He spares a glance toward Jorah's arm, hidden by the sleeve of his shirt. ]
You're not long for Westeros. Which is the biggest shame of all -- that our paths are unlikely to cross ever again there.
no subject
He looks down, and feels eyes on his sleeve rather than meet them -- accustomed to the glance. It’s common to those who know. Especially those with context from their world. ]
Stranger things have happened, [ is the best he’ll allow, more closed off in speech than in silence. Somehow. Mormont witchcraft.
He drinks. ]
no subject
[ Because that's about the strangest thing Baelish has ever experienced. Coming here had opened Pandora's box and illuminated all possibilities. Now, Baelish cannot simply laugh off religion as a fantasy because there were actual gods. Now he cannot discredit magic because it's available at the wave of a hand to some imPorts.
But Petyr can recognize when a conversation is dying down to mundane chatter. And he certainly has no plans to waste Jorah's time like that. So, he pours himself one last drink -- offering the bottle to his bodyguard as well. ]
Well, I suppose I've kept you long enough. Go on and get some rest, Jorah. I'll be fine long enough to clean things up here.
no subject
again
and downs the last round like a shot before he shifts down off his seat. ]
Lord Ambassador, [ he says, with a glance by way of farewell, empty glass nudged within Petyr’s reach. His mood has taken a hit since he sat, the spark in him faded lukewarm as the liquor.
But there’s no attitude to it; he pushes his stool in before he turns to go, everything returned to its place. ]