[handset | audio] private to Solomon Wreath, backdated to 2/9

[edgeoftheknife]

It's a locket with a claddagh on the front.

Don't blow it. You're welcome.

Comments

audio; private;

[peacefullywreathed]

[Oh no he didn't.]

If this is a joke, it's in poor taste. And if it isn't, I'm frankly wondering at your motive.

[edgeoftheknife]

Oh come on Wreath, I tell much better jokes than this.

[peacefullywreathed]

Oh, I don't know. You lot always seemed to enjoy mocking necromancers about their lack of a heart.

[edgeoftheknife]

I can't help it that you'd rather play with the dead than the living, you creepy bastard.

...actually I can. And I am. So like I said, don't blow it.

[peacefullywreathed]

Why?

[No really, why? Ravel doesn't even like him.]

[edgeoftheknife]

Because you're an idiot and you need all the help you can get--I thought that was obvious. Or, well. It's obvious to everyone else, at least.

And anyway, I like Raine.

[peacefullywreathed]

That's not what I--

[Stupid remark. Solomon isn't even sure what he meant.]

Practically everyone else thinks I should be getting away from her.

[Even Skulduggery's approval was tacit. Why's Erskine taking such an active interest?]

[edgeoftheknife]

And yet she's happy with you. I'm not your bloody father, Wreath, and I'm not Raine's. She's a big girl, she can make her own decisions.

You just need a little help with yours.

[peacefullywreathed]

Thank God for that.

[It's mumbled, but also oddly relieved. Solomon had expected Ravel to be one of the dissidents. He lets out an exasperated sigh.]

What makes you think I don't already have them well in hand?

[edgeoftheknife]

The fact that I've known you for more than five minutes.

[peacefullywreathed]

No; really. You're acting as though I'm still trying to woo her, or as if I'm not making her happy. If she weren't, believe me, I'd be the first to know. And I assure you, she's already wooed.

So why?

[edgeoftheknife]

I didn't say anything about wooing. I'm talking about keeping.

You have not, as they say, put a ring on it.

[You can all thank Valkyrie for this tiny piece of pop culture knowledge.]

[peacefullywreathed]

[Until Ravel came along, the thought of marriage didn't even enter into the equation. Now it's a disturbing ghost lurking around the corner of the relationship, and Solomon isn't sure how he feels about that.]

Leaving aside the absurdly obvious innuendo--why should I need to?

[edgeoftheknife]

[Can you recognize the sound of a person facepalming, Sol? Because that's what Erskine is doing right now. He covers his face with his hand for a moment and then drags it down. There's a bit of muttering:]

...what she sees in you....

Look, I'll ask you this, because you know Raine better than I do--or I certainly hope you do. What's important to her? Family? Security? Stability? God knows this city is the most stability some of us have had in ages, if ever, but it's not going to last. Not when people keep disappearing. Maybe she's not the marrying kind--I don't know. You should know.

Think about it, and then ask yourself if you have the time to wait.

And if you botch this, I'll be crossing my fingers that someone better for her comes along. If you need help shopping for a ring, call me. Otherwise it's out of my hands now.

[the line disconnects]

[peacefullywreathed]

That still didn't answer my question.

[But it's a half-hearted mumble, and Solomon doesn't expect an answer. He's a little bit discombobulted right now, please and thank you.]