banding together
"Deep in imperial thought, Lord Hugo?"
He's playing a fine line - he knows it, and Hugo knows it. What Minoth may surmise but cannot completely confirm or assume is that Hugo is delighted by Minoth's insistence at gaming the acceptable banter out of him; at keeping himself, always, in a little bit of danger, but granting himself greater and greater happily-obliged favors where all parts of the Ardainian contingent are concerned.
He's not used to being a winner. Not by half. And yet, he behaves like one. His strange, arresting confidence sometimes seems to have little bearing on the deprecated way he speaks, on the grim things he prophesizes.
And yet he does speak among them. He does display himself as a friendly, despite it all.
To speak of concern, Hugo should be concerned now. He should be properly wary of Minoth's tendency to talk and hear trouble, where Addam might only smell it.
But instead, he just acquiesces. Who ever said Hugo Alan Ardanach couldn't love a little middle-name danger?
"I was thinking of Aegaeon's words about Haze. He envisioned her as my consort, it appears."
The nature of Driver-Blade combat, especially when sharing arms, is that the two bodies never can stand all that far from each other. Even if Aegaeon should mumble, Hugo has spent what feels like an uncountable span of years, relative to his own age, deciphering the low burbling sounds.
"And your opinion?"
Hugo turns his face up to fully meet Minoth's, noticing for the first time that the Flesh Eater comes to him at such an angle as to mostly blot out the sun, and leave himself for illumination only with a bleeding-edge eclipse corona.
Totality. Umbra. Hyper Graviton. Certainly not a halo.
"I believe the word is objectification." Feminist of you, Minoth thinks, but doesn't say. "Is this how Aegaeon discerns every woman that crosses my path? Does he scrutinize them all for parentage, peerage, quarter and Core Crystal?"
As if deep and distant in thought, Minoth's eyebrows knit together and his lips clamp shut all the way to the corners. This, Hugo thinks faintly, is the portent of such constant and chasing despair as Amalthus's former Blade has experienced. This is the pensiveness of an age.
Aegaeon, so vigilant. Prepared in every possible circumstance - standing ready to face all comers, indeed. He seeks not just for the fate and the good of the empire but for Hugo's own satisfaction. Satisfaction? Could this be the word? For surely it is not simple happiness Aegaeon's sea deals in.
Are they, any of them, truly seeking happiness? Do they hope for it? Do they wish for it? Do they even really, by way of such near future envisioning, want it at all?
Then, he replies, "Probably."
"A finer conversation partner few have had," Hugo remarks wryly. "In the whole of Alrest, you choose to bless us here."
"And you choose to let Aegaeon run your life." At Hugo's offended, if not slightly horrified, expression (the mincing intimations seem to have skipped off), Minoth appends, "See, I'm allowed to make that joke, on account of..." and gestures, vaguely.
As if that's going to fool the Emperor of Mor Ardain. Minoth may not ask anyone's opinion, but he is always silently taking them into account. Not like the way Jin processes the judgements of his companions, no; Minoth takes it on the sleeve and keeps it there. Wears it proudly, as a two-tone holographic badge.
"The point is, Aegaeon is an old lady. I'm not saying you should go out into the fields and sow your wild oats the way Addam did, but you could at least have some fun with it. Your Majesty."
"With Haze."
"Or anyone. But, I believe Haze, for quite a few reasons, is the perfect place to start."
Hugo can imagine those reasons. He can imagine Haze's brilliant smile, her unerring enthusiasm, her glistening tiara, her sensitive soul. He knows of Haze's wish to protect just as fiercely and effectively as she is protected, to heal all wounds without question of ability. He knows that Haze wants to be the paragon of something, someone, anyone, but does not have and never has had the chance.
Is it not taking advantage, then? What of Lora herself?
Haze would love to know that Hugo is not interested in Lora herself, so much.
"Not the perfect person?"
"Nobody's a perfect person."
"I have lost respect for you," Hugo intones, a reminder.
Minoth shrugs. "Probably."