*** CARRION has joined 421.06.735.78 <CARRION> I am not present at the moment or I am otherwise indisposed. <CARRION> Please, leave a message regarding your concerns and I will respond at my earliest convenience.
Well, Monsieur Carrion, here I come by request. I believe I have quite suitable work to pitch your way, with the option to join a team with good performance. With whom am I dealing?
Hello again, Inspector. I won’t hazard at a proper guess as braggery does not suit me, but I’ve hunted many men through many environments during my career of four decades. Whom do you need hunted?
[He can hazard a guess at that one, and he’s quite curious about any new leads relating to Mirage.]
[Javert expected as much, from a confident and clearly competent individual. Hunting war criminals and enemy troops are commonplace for military men, particularly ones with extensive experience and high rank. Javert left their first encounter with a reassuring picture of the old man, one of exceptional shrewdness, decorum, and command. Tarkin reminded him of a number of his own superiors that he knew in Paris, all marks in the Grand Moff's favor.
So he is quick to cut the fat and get down to business.]
A herd of hogs, that is who.
Do you know where to find La Forteresse Prison? This conversation is best done in the flesh. I will have your 'kit' prepared for you.
[As always, he appreciates directness, something many of his former associates lacked, and one of the many reasons he found politics so tiresome. Not to mention, he is far more intrigued by the prospect of working alongside the Inspector then he is in guiding some soft toothed fool through the woods to hunt a stranger for their supper.]
I see, and yes I know where it is. What time shall I be there?
[On Christmas Eve, someone seems to have left a present at your apartment door! There's a box of monster-shaped cookies, a bottle of wine, and a woolen scarf in the color of your choice. The box holding everything has been wrapped in an attempt to distract from the fact that it's just a cardboard box and not a fancy gift basket.
...There also seems to be a voucher for a free eighteen-inch pizza at the bottom of the box, which can be redeemed at the pizza restaurant on the corner.
Attached is a handwritten note. It can be somewhat difficult to make out what it says due to how horrible the handwriting is, but if you squint and tilt your head, you can make out the following:]
happy holidays, from your superintendent ➼ hawkeye
[Midnight, Christmas Day. Tarkin will discover a basket filled with a bottle of fine Burgundy wine, a woolen scarf fashioned out of gray-and-white space dye yarn, and a black envelope. The envelope contains La Forteresse's annual winter bonus along with a note:]
M. Wilhuff Tarkin, Joyeux Nattensfest. You are entitled to take the next two days for your holiday. A toast to your health and fortune in the new year. Best regards, JAVERT
[In the mail that comes with the dawn, there is a package.]
[It's neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and the address and the recipient's name is picked out so neatly on the front of the parcel that you'd almost think it was printed, and not merely the sender's handwriting. Below the layers of paper and string there is a cotton wrapped notebook, carefully hand bound in pale leather, tattooed with delicate filigree patterns and filled with extremely high quality paper. The only thing accompanying the notebook is a note in the same exceedingly neat hand.]
The parcel is neatly wrapped in red paper, with a white ribbon. It's delivered in the early hours by a member of the kitchen staff from Ragnarok, who hefts it as he hands it over. Inside, there is not only fine tea and coffee, but freshly pressed juices, fruit from Oleander Cottage's garden, freshly made pastries and smoked meat and fresh eggs. Also included is a couple of small fresh food pouches formulated for cat.
He's not going to leave his uncle out. The present is largely rectangular, but when opened, it reveals a portrait of Tarkin's cat, painted on commission by a local artist. It's oils, and is beautifully framed.
Mister Tarkin are you attending our next 'Frunch' as Horatio insists on calling it? A... Former business partner decided he knew me more closely than he did and thought a gift of high quality cat treats would at the minimum be accepted as a good joke. [It wasn't.] You have a cat, don't you?
Wonderful. I happen to have quite a large box of these things, and by all reports they're rather premium. [More than he'd personally thinks even a cat would appreciate. Gabriel was of the opinion you hit a point where you were better off making the treats and they'd be better and tastier for the cat.] If you're amenable you're welcome to whatever you want from the box he left.
Isn’t she? I’d take her out more often but she’s rather photosensitive. She was a party favor (or perhaps appetizer?) from a 'party' hosted by the Rotan parasites. I couldn’t quite make out their angle at the time.
Indeed, she’s an albino. She's young and I’m watchful of her health.
[Tarkin has a certain fondness for albino creatures, there’s something extraordinarily poetic about a animal surviving, and even possibly thriving where it was never intended to, with all the odds in the world stacked against it. He had watched the developments of an albino veermok on the plateau for many years.]
[Mouse, his cat, contends only with her natural ailments and the unnatural commotion of the floor they live on. She's a very spoiled creature, as any house pet ought to be.]
I suppose it’s better that they conflate rocks with food, rather than getting the memo about humans. That would be even more inconvenient for the humans of Rota.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
<PasUnPolicier>
< carrion >
You may refer to me as Tarkin. And you have my curiosity peaked.
[Though he is suspecting they've met before.]<PasUnPolicier>
[Good. It means he can skip the introductions and the pleasantries and get straight to the meat of the matter:]
You tell me you are a hunter as well as a solider. How many men have you hunted, Monsieur Tarkin?
< carrion >
Hello again, Inspector. I won’t hazard at a proper guess as braggery does not suit me, but I’ve hunted many men through many environments during my career of four decades. Whom do you need hunted?
[He can hazard a guess at that one, and he’s quite curious about any new leads relating to Mirage.]<PasUnPolicier>
So he is quick to cut the fat and get down to business.]
A herd of hogs, that is who.
Do you know where to find La Forteresse Prison? This conversation is best done in the flesh. I will have your 'kit' prepared for you.
< carrion >
I see, and yes I know where it is. What time shall I be there?
<PasUnPolicier>
< carrion >
Understood. I look forward to working with you, Inspector.
no subject
...There also seems to be a voucher for a free eighteen-inch pizza at the bottom of the box, which can be redeemed at the pizza restaurant on the corner.
Attached is a handwritten note. It can be somewhat difficult to make out what it says due to how horrible the handwriting is, but if you squint and tilt your head, you can make out the following:]
happy holidays, from your superintendent
➼ hawkeye
no subject
M. Wilhuff Tarkin,
Joyeux Nattensfest.
You are entitled to take the next two days for your holiday. A toast to your health and fortune in the new year.
Best regards,
JAVERT
early november, in the physical mail
[It's neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and the address and the recipient's name is picked out so neatly on the front of the parcel that you'd almost think it was printed, and not merely the sender's handwriting. Below the layers of paper and string there is a cotton wrapped notebook, carefully hand bound in pale leather, tattooed with delicate filigree patterns and filled with extremely high quality paper. The only thing accompanying the notebook is a note in the same exceedingly neat hand.]
Use it well.
-GM
25th December
Merry Christmas, Tarkin.
no subject
Happy Holidays, Uncle.
- Dick
[text; during the flower event] <just_rey>
I've never stopped thinking of you as family.
Most of the time I hate it, but I don't hate you. You've never been cruel to me. You've shown concern for my well-being even after the spell ended.
I hate the things you did in our homeworld, but you still matter to me, and I hope you find some peace here.
That's all. Unless you need to confess something to get rid of some of your flowers, too.
<chimera>
<kouhun>
I wouldn’t dream of missing it my dear. Good company, good conversation, all vital for maintaining a hearty spirit and an intact mind.
[Enclosed is a blurry image of a small white cat grappling with one of Tarkin's flag-tails.]That’s unfortunate. I do have a cat, yes. Though at the moment she seems to believe she’s an extension to my tail.
<chimera>
She's a lovely creature.
<kouhun>
Thank you Gabriel, we'd both appreciate it.
Isn’t she? I’d take her out more often but she’s rather photosensitive. She was a party favor (or perhaps appetizer?) from a 'party' hosted by the Rotan parasites. I couldn’t quite make out their angle at the time.
<chimera>
Knowing the parasites probably an appetizer, given the number of deep fried rocks offered to me over the Nattensfest period.
<kouhun>
Indeed, she’s an albino. She's young and I’m watchful of her health.
[Tarkin has a certain fondness for albino creatures, there’s something extraordinarily poetic about a animal surviving, and even possibly thriving where it was never intended to, with all the odds in the world stacked against it. He had watched the developments of an albino veermok on the plateau for many years.][Mouse, his cat, contends only with her natural ailments and the unnatural commotion of the floor they live on. She's a very spoiled creature, as any house pet ought to be.]
I suppose it’s better that they conflate rocks with food, rather than getting the memo about humans. That would be even more inconvenient for the humans of Rota.
<chimera>