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Beautancus

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Kretyn, Krasnislavian SR
Kadikistani Union


A dry old sigh, after so many years, had been the most shocking thing Dr. "Joe" Koscialkovski had ever received in response from his oldest friend. The silence between them yawned outward, broader and broader, the just nigh silent white noise of the secured line seeming to grow louder in filling the void.

"Rheron..." And still Joe found himself utterly without words, even as close as they were, Joe had never failed to appreciate the chilling reality behind the formidable reputation Dr. Cypreau had constructed.

"We've both known he was planning something on this scale, and we've even been able to glean some insights into what," Joe found his mouth uncharacteristically dry, forced to seek the fortifying refreshment of his drink before continuing. Rheron began to plow on madly again before he could though.

"Rheron, listen to me - and well, we're no more than five minutes before touching down," Joe was keenly observing the passing countryside of what was now the Krasnislavian SR. If his dear friend (who appeared for all the world to finally be losing his edge) could see this in person, maybe he would regain some of the perspective he needed? "Of course this is completely off any projected timescales we have made, we're obviously not operating with all the available intelligence. We never thought it would matter this way, but being outside of the Golden Circle does seem to have become a variable in the equation."

The degree of stress Rheron Cypreau, "Dr. Cypreau, the fucking boogeyman" to so many other poor souls beside was placing upon Joe was unreasonable, especially in this particular moment. Cypreau was always one of the most anxiously paranoid men that Joe had ever met, but in an incredibly well concealed and tightly controlled way.

Something that he's not told you, it's scaring him stupid, the thought flew through Joe's mind in bold stenciled letters, with a sick, sinking accompaniment. If Rheron was so bothered by something that he couldn't bear to speak it, after such an unburdening of unmanful anxiety as he'd already made...Joe drank again, and again.

"I will call you once it is practicably secure Old Friend. Stay the course, we've come too far to let the thing slip through our fingers now. Too far by half." Rheron responded a bit more strongly now at least, but still clearly wandering into virgin territory for the first time in several long decades. Joe disconnected the line with a weary shake of the head.

That makes two of us, beyond doubt, Joe could see the distantly hazy smudge of Kretyn on the far horizon now, details springing to life more slowly for his ancient eyes, as his Executive Service jet soared closer to their destination. The overwhelming majority of his career had been spent within Administrations that had never cared to consider engagement with the Slavian Titan, in any regard.

Orton though, again, was an animal of altogether different character. The Cussian First Citizen had already managed to seize disaster by the swinging cod, and snatch the whole world into sudden and breathless focus on the Confederated Republic and Domain. Joe had recommended the termination of this dalliance, which had rather quickly become "not so back-channel" anymore.

But no, His Excellency made this call personally. I'll never understand why Rheron is so challenged by the man, but completely outclassed by a much younger man in his prime...that I am afraid I do get... Joe continued his self indulgent inner monologue, not quite aware of how desperately he was attempting to parse his own sense of bewilderment and anxiety over the matters at hand.

One should hope to be so lucky as this, to know, to be able to see that the generations they have cultivated grow to such ferociously vigorous heights. They're supposed to be better and more than we could ever dream. Joe laughed now, it must have become obvious he was gripped by some deep reverie.

One of his better aides, an achingly beautiful and endlessly competent scioness of one of the more important Codahodacho clans, was gazing at him intently, albeit very politely.

"I'm fine Aiyana, pay no need to all that. You've seen the state His Excellency often leaves the good Inspector General in. Never understand it, myself, but it is thus nevertheless. We are almost aground, yes Sweet Child?" Joe pulled himself up, as much as age and the thin veneer of semi-drunkeness that seemed to go with it would allow him to.

Aiyana nodded, ever the attentive secretary. "Yes My Liege," she'd always made use of the Masonic styling in private, "...you know that I am only concerned for you. The Inspector General has my loyalty because of my love for you and the honor you do my dynasty, but that is as far as it extends."

Joe reached forward to rub the fiery gentlewoman's cheek. She was the best of all those who'd served him, in all the many years of his career, as near to a genuine relationship as he'd ever allowed in his own office. Not every woman is Aiyana Doustioni'eh either.

"Well then, I suppose we should get this tie on me and make ready, People's Commissar Kujundzic awaits," Joe proferred a wadded mass of black, his tie. The world would laugh, did it ever learn that the legendary Dr. Josef Koscialkovski could only just barely tie his own tie. Aiyana had.

She'd also tied the tie.






(OOC: Apologies, forgot to @Kadikistani Union in the title, but yeah - Attention Dear Spelev!)

 
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