Don't Shoot the Messenger

Council Offices - New Luna - VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV A small, low-ceilinged cavern, it has been divided into sixteen offices, six on each side of the tastefully-decorated hallway. At the forefront of the hallway is a small reception area complete with a desk, receptionist, and half a dozen chairs for waiting. """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" Fri Mar 17 08:15:27 3006 The sun begins to slowly rise over the mountains, bringing the morning mist. Contents:                              Exits: Businessman Seale                   Out

Seale sits on the edge of the receptionist's desk, waving his large hands with a boisterous  enthusiasm. "How much are we talking here, Jennifer? I knew Vilaes had a hunch, but how good of a hunch was it?" The brown-haired receptionist points to the screen. "It has quadrupled, Mr. Seale," she says with a tiny smirk.

Larin makes his way in through the doorway of the Council Offices with a professional stride. The edges of his robes have a tendency to hang on the air as he walks up towards the desk of the receptionist. He looks between the two individuals there, allowing a neutral smile to come to his lips. He also seems inclined to wait until he is recognized before speaking, either out of politeness or discipline.

"Larin Weyr. Associate of a Mister Ryan. Here to deliver a report from a uhm ... diplomatic mission?", Larin returns, his smile still remaining neutral and professional. "Is he in?"

Seale shakes his head quickly, his eyes narrowing, a slight look of confusion blossoming on his face. "There's no Mister Ryan here, sir. Are you sure you have the right office?"

"Of course he isn't here. He's the one I'm carrying a message for.", Larin responds back, a bit of confusion coming to his face aswell. "Is the Governor in today?". His eyes give Seale a hard, green perusal.

Seale closes his eyes and sighs. "Are you the one I should gut like a fish, then?" he asks softly, gesturing towards an office down the hall.

"While I'm sure the term 'Don't shoot the messenger' might not apply in the case of gutting ... I should hope that you don't try it, sir.", Varin comments cooly as he moves to follow the man's directions.

Seale follows afterwards, wringing his hands. "What *is* the proper procedure for associates of overzealous terrorists, then?" he retorts darkly. "I seem to have misplaced my manual."

"Since I'm not stranger to public service and the wonderful beaucracy follows in its wake I can only sympathize for your misplaced documentation, sir.", Larin replies, not batting an eyelash.

Seale steps into the medium-sized office, and heads towards a large leather chair, suitable for his large frame. "Kept me from entering the OATO, it would appear," he says grouchily, closing the door after Larin after he enters.

Larin replies, not batting an eyelash. "Now would you like to know exactly what the 'overzealous terrorist' has accomplished or would you like to continue this pointless sidebar?". He opens the door to allow Seale into his own office, that same neutral smile never having left his lips.'.

Larin regards Seale for a moment, standing where he is and fixing him with a somewhat criticial look before he blinks. "What makes you say that, sir?", Larin inquires.

Seale gestures towards a chair on the other side of his desk. "Whatever he said to the G'ahnli, whom I did not authorize him to speak to, got them up into enough of a tizzy that they're refusing to vote for us." His rich earthen forehead wrinkles tightly, and deep epidermal ravines appear between his eyebrows.

Larin frowns lightly at that. Either way he clears the throat. "Apparently the G'ahnli emmisarry has already arrived then.", Larin remarks. The smile comes back but it is certainly less cheerful as he works it over in his mind. "Skipping over the first half of that report then ... Centauri /has/ on the other hand agreed to support New Luna for membership into OATO." He pauses. "I personally can see the issue with this because I'm well aware of the need for a unanimous vote. It would appear that some politiking is in order then, sir. I cannot believe I'd see someone admit to defeat so early."

"I *expect* that people trying to clear their *name* and prevent their untimely *demise* would be trying to *help* me instead of *hurt* me," Seale enunciates. "G'ahnli speak in money. I am the major financial backer of this planet, and I can tell you now that we do not have money to spare for bribing an affluent planet in this regard. So yes, while this is not defeat, this setback will cost me many times the price on his fool head!" He slams his fist down on the desk.

"I would also expect that placing a bounty on someone does not dictate the value of their life.", Larin returns, again not flinching at even the table slam. "It is admirable that you are willing to give up your money and your time to back this planet and its denziens. It is probablly even more admirable to think of all the extra stress you have to put up with it because of it." He seems to lose just a bit of that professional demeanor and breaks into something bordering on conviction but with just a dash of anger. "But realize this ... Ryan is willing to give up his /life/ for this planet. It's become his new Camelot. His new quest or what have you. It wasn't his intention to sabotage your plans and he did what he thought was best." He pauses for a moment and just sighs. "Besides if anyone has enough conviction and luck to pull this off ... it's fucking Jeff Ryan." Quite finished his gaze turns critical once more.

"The man is a warrior. A general. A leader in battle. What we're dealing with now is politics, my friend," the seven-foot-tall Lunite spits. "There are a lot of us with all the best intentions for New Luna. Dryden down at the docks would die seven times for our planet. But he would make an awful, awful statesman. This is not a battle about life and death. This is a battle about subtlety and repartee, and if mister Ryan cannot figure out that there is no knightly swordplay in a duel of words, the value of his life and the value of his bounty may end up being identical."

"Well then I pity the man that tries to cash in on him. He has many friends and I'm privileged to count myself among them.", Larin responds, straightening up a bit (if that's even possible). "But its just one battle. Still the war to think about. He'll have his chance to distinguish himself." He clears his throat lightly. "Dare I ask to deliver a message back to him?".

The Lunite takes a deep breath in, then out, his hands unclenching. His head raises, his words quiet. "Tell him he's one and one. If he cannot grow the subtlety necessary for the job of ambassador, then for God's sake, he needs to find someone who does." The governor pauses. "Because if he is not entirely successful from here on out, there will be hell to pay."

"Sounds reasonable to me.", Larin replies with a nod. "The message may be a bit delayed in getting back to him as apparently I've been ordered to spend time uhm ... reconoitering the Masquerade. Orders mentioning a warm meal and a hot tub of some sorts." He frowns deeply as he considers the implications before he looks up to Seale. "Thank you for your time, Governor. I hope that next time we meet it is under the pretense of better news."

Seale stands slowly, achingly, and takes a deep breath in and out. "As do I. Go with God."

"God forsook me a long time ago, Governor. All the same ...", Larin pauses and tosses the man a good-natured smirk. "We need all the help we can get." With that he turns about, robe hanging in the air for just a moment before catching up with its owner, and then proceeds to exit the reception.