[Private] Of Athena or Ascalaphus?

Eurydice sat back down, looking like she was about to launch into something before she chugged the water that Sweeney slid towards her. He held his even smile with Archie, giving a small shrug with the complaint that Ambrosia was already on ice—how was that a loss?

Fawkes opened his mouth at the mention of his Cleaner call and the Whitney incident, and the Blightbent signaled that it was fine to bring the food, forcing a pause with the mundane attention as he squeezed the Sandharrowed's shoulder. Eurydice just seemed openly bewildered, not understanding how helping Mitch in a bind connected to controlling his Desires at a party.

"Fawkes' got a trick for that," the Blightbent said, accent stronger than where they started as he seemed locked in with oil collecting behind his eyes. "If being scared's the problem." Fawkes blinked, focused on pulling his own share from the plate so his motleymate's perpetually bleeding hands wouldn't cause an issue. "I don't think that's the problem, though. All this bouded started way before people were getting violent."

Eurydice exhaled.

"Mais, she can't tell you how to fix it. Because then that's just handing an instruction manual on how to deal with your people. Which is the whole damn problem—empathy. Come on. Who shit on you before you decided you couldn't leave it? Asking for a deal don't tell us nothing, nor the rest. If you were us, and some couyon do all this to your friends and family—you catching them scrambling their heads for the Greater Good and you just got to trust them. Not an ounce of feeling bad, just upset people are upset. What would you think? What would you do?"

He jutted his chin to Riley too, putting them on the spot. "No one stopping you, cher. No one came to us to say what was what. So why do we have to pay you the same courtesy? We've been doing this a long time and that kind of disregard is life or death for us. I take a hit," he tapped his temple, "And the whole block's got their lungs full of chlorine and blood. Cour-te-sy of the War Machine."

The Blightbent and Draconic weren't bothering to school their emotions, wearing their feelings in the open. Both seemed confused what Archie was getting at when he explained why he was controlling people, and are reacting to the idea that he can't understand the problem and sees himself as the victim, who is absolved of all participation because they retaliated.

Sweeney didn't seem to be taking the negotiation seriously anymore on his part—he had already done the Elemental's Handbook To Social Engagement by outlining what it felt to have his psyche attacked in a space of those he was meant to trust, and the bridge to empathy had been met with a 'thanks for repeating what I was there for'. He seemed only focused on protecting his motley, now. The easygoing nature wasn't a lie, rather he floating with accepting this was just the way Afterparty was. However, when Fawkes floated the apology between Eurydice's diatribe, he had hiccuped on his own beer. The whole exchange had seemed to fly right under the Fairest's radar.

Eurydice had laid out how she was at her limit. The point on Sweeney seemed to spike her rage again, where she was going to start an argument; the point on Agrippa got a shake of the head and muttering something in Spanish; and the final point of Carr was complete bewilderment that he seemed to be fishing for an atta-boy, and seemed to be construed that he truly felt he was allowed to abuse Mitchell because he did him a favour. When asked what it would take, she stopped looking at Archie, eyes contracting to slits as her iris' glowed. Smoke subtley trailed out of her nose as she exhaled, the scathing glare directed at the Knight of Coin.

Fawkes moved from sorting to eating. The lightning pattern that riddled his porcelain skin almost invisible now as everything was closed off, and as he noticed Riley was measuring him, he put down what he was doing. The bright, emotionless stare that locked on was uncanny. For the whole meeting he had said what amounted to a sentence and a half.

As Riley compared what happened between Archie and Fawkes was the same as beating a sex worker, the Draconic's teeth flashed in a quiet gasp.

"...You don't see firing the Arrow as violence?"

With the context provided, he was clearly referring to Cupid's Arrow.

Did it ever feel like the world was going crazy?

If it was, it probably wasn’t the world. What was worse. The oathbreaker putting him in his place, or Riley? Both evoked different kinds of emotions.

Maybe what Fawkes said was the trigger. Maybe Sweeney flipping the table around to ask about reversed roles. There was a sense of irredeemability he realized he had saddled himself with, and that was what he had to wear.

“Apologies are just words aren’t they?”

Speaking with mutters.

He fired first, and the consequences of that had been spiraling as he couldn’t mediate himself.

“Without a gesture I could just say anything, and I’ve already lost you so rather than painfully revisiting, I’ll just say that an eye for an eye leaves the world blind. You are right, I have mistreated all of us, betrayed our tenants, and why should I get the time of day, or not be beaten into the ground, right?”

“So I apologize for the bullshit. And I am sure that means nothing.”

He placed his middle and forefinger on the table.

“So, a gesture. An eye for an eye leaves the world blind, so to spare those I could still hurt, and yourself or others from lashing out, if I fire the arrow again the Wyrd will take my eyes.”

The glamor pulsed through his fingers as he sealed the promise with the Wyrd.

He pulled his hand away from the table with his promise sealed.

Glancing to Ricochet, then Chugunkin, and finally Riley.

“Anything else?”

An olive branch that crumbled to the touch was still an olive branch.

“Appreciate the sentiment.”

It was softly spoken, perhaps with some tension behind it. Unless there was more to elaborate on he would remain silent, a tentativeness hanging in the air.