She sits and waits for the Sergeant to return. The Commander pulls an extremely battered looking cigar from out of a pocket equally battered. Sullen about the Wolfbiters no. 5, he grabs the candle and lights the cigar. They sit in quiet, watching the smoke rise to the grimy ceiling.
When she was younger, she remembers sitting in the Patrician's office with her mother, the Oracle, quietly marveling at the speed the Patricain assimilated the information her mother rattled forth. Always gathering and filing and processing information. The Patrician was the one to "suggest" to the Commander that he employ her as the Oracle. The Patrician actually ordered the Commander, but had made it sound like a suggestion. He implied, he maneuvered, he coerced. He got things done. Either by the front door or through the cracks. That's why he was still the Patrician. And that's why she was sitting here, drinking, uh, coffee, with the Commander of the Watch.
"Commander," speaking softly, "Commander, I just thinking of the Patrician." "Now why would you want to do that," smirks the Commander, "You're going to spoil my dinner." "Commander, it's just that he should be told about the Wizards, not just the Captain." Did she just sigh? No, she doesn't think so. "I mean, he would be able to suggest a course of action, make suggestions, he has ways and means. Um, not that you don't, Commander," she quickly adds. "I know you will, ah, uh, handle. Uh, be able to handle, um, anything. I'm making a mess of this. I'm never sure of what to say, or how to say it. My Mother was so sure." She's trembling now, trying to hold back tears. The Commander pats her hand, looking all the more uncomfortable. She knows he feels the same way. That was the worst part. She KNOWS.
"Here's the sugar," yells the Sergeant, coming up the stairs in a, well, run. In a panting, huffing, puffing, battle-engine sort of way. "Too late, it's cold. Make some fresh Sergeant. Use a new sock", chuckles the Commander, "and send another runner afer the Captain in the other direction, maybe they'll meet him up somewhere on patrol." Watching the Sergeant go in reverse was like watching two hippos fight in a wet sack. You didn't think it could happen.
She felt...everything, yet, the tears stayed and the trembling stopped. But, the Commander had started to pace. Not a good sign. No, not at all.