[Constantin takes the pile of papers he's made with him, before they go. He does it in full view of the duke's assistant, who watches mildly and makes no move to stop him folding them into a nice bundle and tucking it into an inside pocket of his coat. At least someone will put these away instead of leaving them here for the next casually invited guest to rifle through the duke's things. A little leverage, in the event that they need it.
Let the record show, at least, that he isn't intimidated by walking into what is clearly a den of bandits. Bandits are honest about their violence, compared to lords; it makes him more uncomfortable to be in the duke's manor than to stand in this dimly lit barn and get dust on his very fine boots. Between the two of them he looks more like the bright-eyed, gullible pampered noble— that can't be doing him any favors as the bandits in the barn eye them critically when they arrive, but they're here and it is what it is.
Constantin does not like Duke Archimedes. In fairness he didn't like him coming in, after reading every letter the man left sitting in his desk, but his charm feels slimy, at best. A criminal making a mess of his territory and who doesn't seem entirely apologetic about it.
But he's the one who does the talking, so he resigns himself to look considerate and interested and nod when it suits the conversation; the plan is foolish, but it does't reach peak stupidity until quite suddenly it's all very much a scheme and he, apparently, is to be the bait? The abruptness of the suggestion leaves him speechless, so it's almost fortunate that Felix's temper erupts when it does. If the duke were allowed to speak any longer he would likely set the whole thing in motion for them, and Constantin needs a moment to stand there and boggle. Is there no court in any world that doesn't intend, at some point or another, to roll the dice on his literal life?
Is it so much to ask that people stop trying to kill him at fancy parties! Unbelievable!
Or: he stands there, gaping, very much thrown by this insane suggestion until Felix looks at him; that gets Constantin to blink himself back into the present and hold up his hands, like, hold on— let's all just hold on.]
I'm sorry, was I brought all the way here at this abysmal hour to be your decoy?
[The nerve! The gall! The duke starts to say something, some slack-jawed defense of his very good plan actually, but Constantin is Not Done—]
I could be at the Priestess' door in a matter of hours. What does she do with her incompetents? Is your annoying little party going to matter?
[This is a Bad Plan, sir!!!! A bad plan!!! He looks at Felix instead of waiting for an answer to that; instead:]
If our dear duke is to attend, there ought to be two of him, wouldn't you say?
[If they're going to heist this assassin then they're going to do it in the most confusing way possible! And also: he's mad now, so it's a little petty, too.]
no subject
Let the record show, at least, that he isn't intimidated by walking into what is clearly a den of bandits. Bandits are honest about their violence, compared to lords; it makes him more uncomfortable to be in the duke's manor than to stand in this dimly lit barn and get dust on his very fine boots. Between the two of them he looks more like the bright-eyed, gullible pampered noble— that can't be doing him any favors as the bandits in the barn eye them critically when they arrive, but they're here and it is what it is.
Constantin does not like Duke Archimedes. In fairness he didn't like him coming in, after reading every letter the man left sitting in his desk, but his charm feels slimy, at best. A criminal making a mess of his territory and who doesn't seem entirely apologetic about it.
But he's the one who does the talking, so he resigns himself to look considerate and interested and nod when it suits the conversation; the plan is foolish, but it does't reach peak stupidity until quite suddenly it's all very much a scheme and he, apparently, is to be the bait? The abruptness of the suggestion leaves him speechless, so it's almost fortunate that Felix's temper erupts when it does. If the duke were allowed to speak any longer he would likely set the whole thing in motion for them, and Constantin needs a moment to stand there and boggle. Is there no court in any world that doesn't intend, at some point or another, to roll the dice on his literal life?
Is it so much to ask that people stop trying to kill him at fancy parties! Unbelievable!
Or: he stands there, gaping, very much thrown by this insane suggestion until Felix looks at him; that gets Constantin to blink himself back into the present and hold up his hands, like, hold on— let's all just hold on.]
I'm sorry, was I brought all the way here at this abysmal hour to be your decoy?
[The nerve! The gall! The duke starts to say something, some slack-jawed defense of his very good plan actually, but Constantin is Not Done—]
I could be at the Priestess' door in a matter of hours. What does she do with her incompetents? Is your annoying little party going to matter?
[This is a Bad Plan, sir!!!! A bad plan!!! He looks at Felix instead of waiting for an answer to that; instead:]
If our dear duke is to attend, there ought to be two of him, wouldn't you say?
[If they're going to heist this assassin then they're going to do it in the most confusing way possible! And also: he's mad now, so it's a little petty, too.]