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[jacksonian]

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[jacksonian]

[ He looks up, nervous - but she seems genuinely interested, not like she's leading him into some sort of trap. Getting him to confess who he really is or something. So he nods a bit. ]

Yeah. Uh - all of them, really. Years of them. The Emperor's Birthday, Winterfair, Midsummer. Since the start of the Bu - Of your husband's regency. And beyond. And before.

[ He was well-trained on those, since they'd be where he'd have the best chance of killing the Emperor. ]

[keep_nothing]

[ She raises her eyebrows at the small skip in his voice towards the end. Instead of calling him on it though, she instead says: ] You can call him Aral, you know. You're working with him now, aren't you?

[jacksonian]

[ Well. At least she's not offended. ]

Oh. Uh - I'm working for...the Emperor. For the Dendarii. So that's a little different from working with...your husband.

[keep_nothing]

Gregor. And Aral.

[jacksonian]

[ He gives a little shake of his head. ]

I doubt they'd want to be on a first-name basis with me if they knew who I was, Lady.

[keep_nothing]

Well I want to be on a first-name basis with you.

[jacksonian]

[ His brows draw down just a little. ]

You want me to call you Cordelia?

[keep_nothing]

I'd like for you to.

[jacksonian]

[ He thinks it over a moment. And then confesses: ]

It - feels weird. Seems weird.

[keep_nothing]

To call me by my name? I may have married into a title, but I'm not exactly Vor Lady material here.

[jacksonian]

I know.

[ He fidgets a little, then confesses, even more awkwardly: ]

I was...trained to call you Mother.

[keep_nothing]

Well ... I wouldn't mind that either, truth be told.

[jacksonian]

[ Really? He looks up at her, then looks away at once, hastily providing the excuse - before he has to think too much about it - ]

That would absolutely raise some questions.

[keep_nothing]

Only if you want to keep it a secret, that is.

[jacksonian]

[ He looks over, a little alarmed, and says very pointedly: ]

I do.

[keep_nothing]

[ She holds up the hand not holding her fork. ]

All right. But if you ever want to call me that and not hide anymore, I'd enjoy it.

[jacksonian]

[ He starts eating again, a bit less desperately. ]

Would anyone else?

[keep_nothing]

How do you mean?

[jacksonian]

Just -

[ A shrug. ]

You're...different. I doubt they'd be glad to meet me. The rest of them.

[keep_nothing]

But haven't they already met you by now?

[jacksonian]

[ He shakes his head. ]

No. I mean - they've met Peter. But I doubt they'd be glad to meet me.

[keep_nothing]

[ She meets his eyes and holds them. ]

And who are you?

[jacksonian]

[ He opens his mouth - and then falls silent and looks away. And gives a little shrug, and says - trying to be ironic, but just painfully sad - ]

A shadow of your son. I guess.

[keep_nothing]

And who do you want to be?

[jacksonian]

[ With a quiet sort of desperation: ]

I wish I knew.