"Lend him this, please", Elizabeth told one of the soldiers, holding the Accords. She would not have him near her, not yet. "If those intentions were an error in judgement, as you say, then we can talk about my intentions to mend that error. As you can see, Field Marshal, your signature is still there. I have no proper reason", she took a sip while loading what she had meant to say, "no proper reason not to allow you to form a government, a legitimate government, together with Premier Selim. Provided that he forgives you, of course."
He seemed mildly insulted that she didn't present the document to him by herself, that lack of directness resulted in a prompt refusal when the soldier did carry out their instructions and tried to present it to Keller. "While you are most assuredly within your own Domain, Governor. An offer of this magnitude necessitates at least some degree of courtesy. And I believe I've shown your soldiers no shortage of such, along with respect where appropriate", he turned his view away from her and to the soldier, whom he met with a stern but almost apologetic look. While still of course refusing to receive the document. "You can continue to hide on the other end of this table and behind all your tokens. But if you want me to talk to you about what you seem to have in mind, then I require these restraints removed and the right to sit." His delivery of these words was firm, but yet again delivered with the vaguest amount of respect. He was more than likely still frustrated, but the largest extent of scorn he seemed to harbor wasn't intended for her.
At least on the exterior he seemed willing to have this talk with her, provided of course that he wasn't treated like the sort of men that he had a reputation for killing.
Keller may have been an arrogant man, or even a boy for Elizabeth, of not much past 20 years old, but there must have been some Coalition commanders that were still loyal to Keller, or so she thought. That was why she needed him on her side. Plus, it would certainly not be an inconsequential thing to boast about at home, in favour of her good repute. To bring one of the greatest proponents for war with Bretonia to her side, now what an accomplishment that would be! Not to speak about the propaganda value. Keller was worth a bit of wooing.
With a gesture, Elizabeth called the soldier back and took the document with her right hand. Again with a gesture, no doubt all routinely exercised, she ordered all the soldiers out. "Full Makeup Commodore", that's how they referred to her in their jokes, outside, where she couldn't hear them. It was a parody of the "Full Metal Commodore", the nickname they used for Kaze Dagon, with her bionics and her iron fist authority. But it was merely a pastime, and had no influence on their performance and obedience when performance and obedience were necessary. Or maybe they had just not been pushed to their limits yet.
Elizabeth wore a black leather glove over her left hand, but her right, which was holding the Accords, was bare. She removed the glove and revealed that her hand was grotesquely disfigured by burns. She liked flaunting that hideous bit of herself. It testified to her participation in real, brutal, bloody war, and to her sacrifice. It showed what she was made of -- or, what she wanted others to think she was made of. Elizabeth extended that hand to Keller. At first she thought she would have him kiss it, but no, Keller was not that kind of a person. He had already missed his chance to be a gentleman. Equality was his mantra, and equality had no preference among neither status, nor wealth -- nor gender. There she was, as decorated as a baroque cathedral, extending a hand to him. A bit of an ungraciously looking hand, too.
"If it is trust you want, it will have to come from both sides."
He was fully aware of the fact that she was trying to sway him to her side, the change in attitude was almost jarring. Though now progress could be made and that was a start, his mind preparing itself to make an irreversible decision. It weighed the positives, negatives and all the sentiments attached to the various options he had to choose from. It was quite unlikely that she knew of Keller's friendship with the Full Metal Commodore, let alone the fact that he had more or less been groomed to take her place and had much the same tendencies. The next ten seconds likely felt like an eternity, and the hesitation made it unclear whether he'd decide to mangle her neck or stretch his hand out in return.
When he did finally decide to shake her hand, he seemed the least bit bother by its state. His grip was firm and the gesture did not last longer than two seconds before he promptly withdrew his hand. "Foes typically shook with their right hands to show that neither had a weapon or hostile intentions. Consider it a nitpick on the subject of culture and tradition. I thought people of your House gave such things more importance", he didn't seem to particularly care but made the statement regardless to take a jab at Hall's attempt to garner sympathy and negligence of her own customs. "Was her body ever recovered? Even if not, I should hope she has a memorial somewhere. I'd like to pay a visit after we're done here." It was quite clear that he was speaking about Dagon, and his question followed by the stated intent would make it obvious that some kind of friendship or at least respect did exist between the two.
He expected that she would both answer his query and then proceed by stating what was expected of him in regards to the document firmly gripped in his right hand. The span of time she'd take to respond would be used to flip it open and look at his signature, glancing back at her once he'd located it.
Heartbeats. If Keller's skin was sensitive, he would have felt Elizabeth's during the handshake. She often did this, risk her life for some gain in power and influence -- because it was worth it. The certain illness she had -- or would have -- was a ticking time bomb, and she had no idea when it was set to go off. Her twin sister died at 13, she was nearing 36 now. That was why Elizabeth was always in a hurry. But she still had a heart that would continue to beat at its own pace no matter what her mind had decided for it. She didn't understand: it was hardly her first time to commit to such a risk, yet adrenaline still rushed. Maybe because she was a woman?
"I am left-handed, Sir. First, good chap", she corrected her manner of addressing this insolent boy, "You so ungentlemanly forced your own special whims upon a lady, and now you are discontent about which hand she offered you. You should be grateful a hand has been offered at all, and not...", she looks at the decorative sword", "And not that. And I'm afraid I share none of your fascination with the dead woman's body, may she rest in peace, so let's let's make this clear: have you come here to strike a contract with me, or merely to be rude?"
She had a finger on her communication device, ready to call the soldiers in with the push of a button, aware that what she had just said might have possibly been a mistake.
He frowned at her comment about his fascination regarding Dagon's corpse. The kind of frown that usually preceded violent assault with anything that could even be remotely brandished as a weapon. If Elizabeth was anxious when simply on approach, it would likely be much worse now. Fortunate for her however, he didn't snap and lash out as predicted. He would just grit his teeth and let the tension fume outward, like a pot pulled from the flames minus its lid. "She was a friend. Maybe the only one I really had or maybe she just died before she could betray my trust as well", his pause seemed to imply that it didn't matter which it was, because in either case the conclusion was the same."You are correct that I've been rude by coming here unannounced. But I believe spending a day behind bars, without so much as sneezing in protest while you pampered yourself makes us even in terms of transgressions against one another. I understand my age might express otherwise, but I'm not a fool to come here without proper cause." He shook his head, as if disappointed about something or someone, likely her.
"I came here because I needed to decide between your Empire, Selim's new regime or my own attempt at doing the needful. And I have a particular amount of interest as far as Exeter's concerned", this next pause felt somewhat sinister compared to the last, it was evident that he'd spent quite a bit of time brooding over what would come out of his mouth next. "Heinrich was eager to threaten somebody close to me to get what she wanted. And she's been uncharacteristically protective of this planet, or at least something or someone on it. I don't know. But I intend to find out and provide quid pro quo, in a sense." His body language seemed to suggest that she'd have no reason to call the soldiers back in. He hadn't hurt her when he had the chance, and it was therefore quite unlikely that he would attempt such a thing at all. Even when provoked by reckless accusations of the necrophilic sort.
Clack clack, left right, clack clack, left right, the highly distinguishable noise that Admiral John Redmonds' footsteps make as they traverse anywhere other than a field or carpeted conference room has become a moniker of sorts to those close to the Admiral. It might be assumed that remaining silent was an advantage, but Redmond, such is his manner, did not care if people knew he was coming. The source of the noise was the magnetic flight boots he continued to wear out of habit, a useful item on a shaky bridge or in a bar fight, though not standard for one of his rank. John made his way towards the meeting room in the Chateau he once called home while under command of this system, the doors slamming open as if they expected his arrival.
"Sprague." John bellowed, his voice carried considerable weight and clarity, so much so that it would be difficult not to hear. "We built Dagon a monument on Sprague, not many people know we did." The Admiral expanding on the initial vagueness, how he knew that this fact was relevant to the discussion he by all rights should not have heard was a mystery he enjoyed gifting the pair. John continued to walk as he spoke, waltzing to the Scotch that decorated a refreshments table within the room, the contents of the bottle barely touched, a travesty he intended to correct. He poured himself a glass, and downed it in one stroke, before taking a second glass, together with the bottle towards the others.
"I never asked if you drank, we never had any social interaction unfortunately, but even if you do not, perhaps all things considered today you aught to make an exception." John spoke as if comforting a junior officer before his first sortie, as he placed the glasses on a table nearby, and poured two very generous portions of Scotch, one glass he enthusiastically took for himself.
"If you are interested in knowing more of Dagon, her history in the Armed Forces, her final days and, uh, after, I will be happy to oblige your curiosity. Mr. Keller. Though I assume the good Commodore here is wondering why I am barging in on your meeting." John felt Dagon was a topic worth entering with Keller, such was the similarity between the two characters pasts, her story potentially a point of connection for Keller and the house John served.
Redmond's entry was unexpected to say the least, but Keller didn't seem startled at least by his outward appearance. Exactly how Redmond knew of the conversation that had taken place prior to any semblance of his proximity proved far more interesting, perhaps curiosity worked both ways in that regard. "Sprague. I see. I'll pay a visit, forward me the address please. Though Keller was by no means a drinker, even in the casual sense, he would still accept Redmond's offer. The familiarity of his tone was suspect, but it was highly unlikely that the drink was poisoned. It would have also been quite incredibly counterproductive to dispose of an asset right as their potential turn was beginning to cement itself. This inspired Keller to take his sips with confidence, capable of managing the burn without coughing like some pampered boy sneaking into the local bar under a false ID. "Further talk regarding our mutual friend can wait, I believe you owe the living woman in this room an explanation judging from her reaction to your arrival." He would remain near that table, continuing to savor his drink as he looked over the treaty. All the while apparently contemplating something.
Crossing her hands, Elizabeth was looking at the events with disapproval. But she could do nothing against them, as she was Redmond's direct subordinate. Ironically, she found herself supportive of Keller, her recent enemy, against the intrusion of her own compatriot.
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