WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
It might have been feeling dangerous, and that was probably because it was, but Neron could not have looked more comfortable in his seat at his study, with a small basket absurdly draped over a bowl of ice. (The sun still had the decency to be shining and bouncing off it, at least).
"Hm..." The sigh came out contemplative, perhaps a little irritated at first, but with a hint of understanding. The vagueness of Peter's statements said more than intended, he thought. The nuances of doing whatever one was told to, of being a problem solver (and those problems being people, information and the like)...
Yes, the Warden thought he understood Peter's vocation well enough.
"It sounds," he said, "as though the position of Citadel Spymaster would suit you well enough."
He left it there, expectantly watching for the other man's reaction.
"Hm..." The sigh came out contemplative, perhaps a little irritated at first, but with a hint of understanding. The vagueness of Peter's statements said more than intended, he thought. The nuances of doing whatever one was told to, of being a problem solver (and those problems being people, information and the like)...
Yes, the Warden thought he understood Peter's vocation well enough.
"It sounds," he said, "as though the position of Citadel Spymaster would suit you well enough."
He left it there, expectantly watching for the other man's reaction.
