[CLOSED]

[baetiful]

WHO: Petyr Baelish and Zoe Hange
WHERE: Baelish's home.
WHEN: Mid-October
WHAT: It's totally but also totally not a date.
WARNINGS: None foreseen. Will update if needed.

[ So after the question hung in the air about whether they would go to a restaurant or Baelish's home, his home is the winner. The meal he has had catered from his cooks at The Iron Throne, leaving the cuisine a bit more medieval in style. Hearty stews and fresh baked breads with a few different fruit pies for dessert. For drink, he has several bottles of fine wine out on the counter so she could have her pick according to her particular tastes. This is all served by candle light which might seem romantic, but really -- given the old-fashioned style of Baelish's home and decor, it's not terribly out of place.

When she arrives, he doesn't take long to open the door, lightly bending at the torso in greeting before stepping aside to allow her entry. ]

Hange. Do come in. May I take your jacket?

[ While Hange's home might have been full of organized chaos, the sign of a mind at work....Baelish's home is quite the opposite. Pristine. Almost as though he doesn't live here at all. And given the late hours he keeps at the office....it's highly likely he doesn't spend much time here other than to sleep. ]

Comments

[baetiful]

[ He chuckles easily, genuinely amused and surprised by her statement. Petyr should know by now to expect the unexpected when it comes to Hange, and yet she keeps him on his toes. ]

I did not. I played it safe. Clearly I should not have. Though if you want, it is only a messenger mockingbird away.

[ He would not dare take his attention away from Hange in order to interrupt their evening with a phone call. A bird messenger is far better suited to deliver the simple note. ]

I have compensated my staff quite well for this evening, so anything your heart desires in the culinary sense...they can make and deliver.

[ He pours her a glass of the wine she had brought and then one for himself. ]

As for anything your heart desires in any other sense...be it knowledge, information... [ His words trail off, leaving a suggestive pause as he hands her the glass of wine, fingers perhaps purposely brushing in the exchange. ]

...well. We shall see what I can do. You did wish to know me, did you not? So how about I grant you one question, any question at all, that I must answer truthfully in exchange for a question of my own.

[aberrant_type]

Oh, let them rest. I'm sure what they've offered is delicious as well. Perhaps another time for pie.

[Is it bold to hint at future meetings? Well, why not be bold! This has been amusing so far. Hange takes the wine - not missing the brush of fingers - and swirls it, then sips. She doesn't have a refined palate, but it's a good wine.]

Are you not in the habit of being honest, Petyr? That's not my question, by the way. [And she chuckles, intending the barb to be mostly easygoing.]

Well then. What goals did you hope to achieve, in your home?

[baetiful]

[ His eyebrows flicker at her -- like a mischievous boy who gets amusement from being caught and called out on his propensity to not be honest. But that is the only response he gives because she makes it clear it's not her question. No. Hange goes straight for the jugular as should be expected from her. ]

Ultimately? I wished to see my world become something similar to this one. A world of democracy. A world where birthright does not dictate how far you can get within society. Lofty, admirable goals...I am sure most would think. Except in order to achieve those goals in a world as steeped in tradition as my own, you must break down the very fabric of society and rebuild it. I've always lived by the rule, the ends justify the means.

[ Baelish glances over at Hange, trying to read how she's taking his words -- how much could he confess of his true self? How much would she accept? The details of his sins, perhaps no. But a broad overview? ]

There are a few who believe I have my eyes set on the throne. But that is not entirely true. I do not wish to sit upon it as the king. My goal is to control the king or queen so that they could create the world to my design.

[aberrant_type]

[Hange sets her glass down and idly toys with her wine glass, pivoting it on the base clockwise and counterclockwise. Otherwise she patiently waits and listens, gazing at him with calm clear eyes.]

A noble goal, truly. I can sympathize with that.

[She'd say some similar things, probably. And yet, she knows what people think about what she says: talk is cheap. Petyr's talk is cheap, too. Further observation is required.]

My home is also ruled by the king within the walls. He's a repressive sort, and dozens of scientists, upstart teachers, and rogue authors and artists have been made to disappear under his reign. It's all something of an open secret, easily seen by those with an eye for it, but not readily spoken of.