Isabelle raised an eyebrow at Vertiga's mention of conspicuous showering, and she snorted, before taking another bite on her toast. She went about it with her usual taught, almost naturally elegant manner, but there was some snappy energy to the proceedings, much like a shark at a baby seal tasting. The classic, rustic taste of rillettes was addictive. It could be best compared to a mixture between corned beef and butter, only much more delicate and complex, starting with a buttery, sweet taste and ending on the meaty flavour of goose. She was coming back to life, and lamented the lack of wine. The mere thought seemed to conjure up the maître d'hôtel, whom politely and gracefully erupted into the room with a bottle of red whose shape indicated it was from Burgundy. He served them both, filling each glass only halfway as was the custom, then departed as Vertiga finished his sentence and gazed longingly at his slate. Chanteloup decided to act mercifully, and imperceptibly nodded at him while keeping briefly silent, hinting that he could finally start his culinary experience.
Meanwhile, she brought her glass to her nose, pensively rotating it to reveal the earthy, strong aromas typical of Burgundy reds, and took a sip. The complex taste went from fruity to earthy, and lingered pleasantly in the mouth. Adequate, she thought, but not exceptional. Probably one of the best they had in store over at Cordes, which had probably not served any VIP in ages, and the notion brought her some pride. She moved the glass back to its precise initial position and decided that Vertiga's concentration had enough time to recover. She picked up the conversation.
"Control is better than trust, you say. Interesting tidbit, that ; the Gallic military has a very old saying, usually used ironically but not devoid of sense : la confiance n'exclut pas le contrôle. In short, trust does not take away the need for control. To answer your concerns in no particular order : we can't afford to have spies everywhere, and the notion does amuse me also. Just imagine an army of tuxedo-wearing suave gentle men and women being taught to merely lurk around asking pointed questions... But it is true that we, as well as any somewhat capable nation, hold information in high regard and go to great lengths to secure it. Spies are a dreadfully obsolete notion, monsieur Vertiga. The trend, these days, lies with listening devices, tracking equipment, decryption, deciphering, imagery... Human intelligence is only helpful in very specific, small scale situations now, minus exceptional circumstances. I don't need spies, monsieur Vertiga, nor do I need sellswords. I need people in the know, who can come and go to various places untroubled... Or at least not directly shot at... And who can understand the world around them better than your average peasant, and you seem to be that someone."
She started digging in her salad. "I didn't think your crew would be mostly Curaçoans. No offense, but I'm baffled that Curaçaoans themselves haven't already started eating each other, so I didn't picture them as competent space-farers. I can very much understand that this motley crew of yours could have attracted the attention of several of our... Colleagues. But, although it is true that the Apahanta's movements within Gallia will be tracked, I've not asked for more surveillance. Who you choose to bring along with you is your concern, as long as they are not wanted by Gallic justice. So, really, the services I mentioned are nothing more than to answer my questions when I have some... And to refrain from divulging any strategic information you may come across to... Other parties. I'll have a non-disclosure agreement for you to sign at the end of this meal ; in regards to you acting as an occasional source of information for me within Sirius, or wherever you end up... We can keep it to a verbal agreement between ourselves. Trust, and a degree of control, no more than is necessary. Would that sound fair ?"
She looked down at her slate. Nothing was left, not even crumbs. She sensed the maître d'hôtel in the next room, trying to divine the state of progression of their meal, ready to pass on appropriate instructions to the kitchen.
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.
