[ silva looks at her a moment, void of emotion, before sitting back. he doesn't look disappointed; merely ponderous, swirling the wine idly in its glass (an action that in itself should not be threatening, but... there is nothing under the sun silva does that could be considered completely innocent in intention.) he takes a sip before addressing her, keeping eye contact over the crystalline rim. ]
I see. And you neglected to tell me this earlier... why?
It's not that I don't trust you to make your own decisions. [ (actually, to some extent, that is true.) ] But waiting until the last minute does nobody any favours, Sévérine. I applaud your ingenuity, but I would have preferred to know the instant our plan started to [ he makes a flighty, communicative gesture ] crumble.
And I'm afraid, [ he sighs, shaking his head minutely, ] that such a miscalculation on your part nearly cost us another four months of negotiations. You wouldn't have needed to utilise a backup plan if you'd notified me of the problems you had encountered beforehand.
[ it's not something silva is angry about; it had all worked out in the end, and they had secured more servers than technically necessary out of the deal. but he's no fan of bumps in the road—and when they do happen, he prefers to know about them. nothing good was ever built on ignorance or miscommunication.
setting the wine glass down on the desk, silva slowly laces his hands together, affecting a subtly rueful expression. ] So. What can be done to prevent this from happening again?
[ if sévérine was wary before, she's certainly on her guard now; she sits on the edge of her chair, barely breathing, one hand keeping a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the desk. ( if she tries to pick up her glass again, she knows her hand won't be steady enough to keep her chardonnay inside. best not to, really. she's wearing cream. )
she wants to run. and when does she not, really, but it's moments like this that make her want to flee or shoot him dead or both, the skin-crawling anticipation almost worse than anything that could possibly come after. silva is... unpredictable, at the best of times, and even sévérine—who has possibly spent more time around him and with him than anyone else, and isn't that a comforting realization—never knows what he'll do next. for example, right now? when he's at his most affable. ]
I'm sorry. [ there's a small, hesitant pause before she speaks again. making excuses won't help, but... ] I thought I had it under control.
[ she doesn't respond to silva's last question; she's—relatively sure that was meant to be rhetorical. ]
[ silva knows fear, he knows what it does to people. as much as she tries to hide it (and she does, bless her), he knows she's afraid. it's a product of their time spent together, and her circumstances, her past; she's lived in fear all her life, so why should now be any different? he's certainly not helping the situation, never made it a priority to—which is exactly why he values her so much. caged dragons are still dragons, and it would be remiss of him to let her get too comfortable. that's not what this relationship is for. ]
Mm-hm, you thought. [ there it is again, that pitying noise—but this time with lowered eyes, pursed lips, a tightening of the jaw. little, minute nods. then he drops his head with a dramatic sigh, letting it hang from his shoulders in mock disappointment. ] No, I'm sorry.
[ he rises abruptly, crooking his fingers in a swift, perfunctory motion, before turning and walking toward the lavish bedroom. ] Come with me.
☲ action • bonafide lovin' is the worst soundtrack for this tag jsyk.
[ and there it is. it's almost comforting, somehow, the way she can almost manage to rationalize this to herself. this is what she does—and even silva's more inventive moods pale in comparison to what she's seen before. it shouldn't be anything she won't be able to handle. ( none of this changes the fact that she fiercely, desperately, irrationally wishes she had her gun, or that she had the courage to shoot him and damn the consequences, but she likes survival too much to ever try again. so perhaps it's not all that comforting, in the end. )
sévérine taps her nails against the desk once in quick succession before gracefully uncurling herself from the chair and standing up, following two steps behind silva. when she makes it into the bedroom, she stops as close to the door as she can, bracing herself ever-so-slightly against the back of the nearest chair. she doesn't move beyond that, save for watching silva—but after the events of the past few days, forgive her for not being terribly eager to take the initiative. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
☲ action
I see. And you neglected to tell me this earlier... why?
It's not that I don't trust you to make your own decisions. [ (actually, to some extent, that is true.) ] But waiting until the last minute does nobody any favours, Sévérine. I applaud your ingenuity, but I would have preferred to know the instant our plan started to [ he makes a flighty, communicative gesture ] crumble.
And I'm afraid, [ he sighs, shaking his head minutely, ] that such a miscalculation on your part nearly cost us another four months of negotiations. You wouldn't have needed to utilise a backup plan if you'd notified me of the problems you had encountered beforehand.
[ it's not something silva is angry about; it had all worked out in the end, and they had secured more servers than technically necessary out of the deal. but he's no fan of bumps in the road—and when they do happen, he prefers to know about them. nothing good was ever built on ignorance or miscommunication.
setting the wine glass down on the desk, silva slowly laces his hands together, affecting a subtly rueful expression. ] So. What can be done to prevent this from happening again?
☲ action
she wants to run. and when does she not, really, but it's moments like this that make her want to flee or shoot him dead or both, the skin-crawling anticipation almost worse than anything that could possibly come after. silva is... unpredictable, at the best of times, and even sévérine—who has possibly spent more time around him and with him than anyone else, and isn't that a comforting realization—never knows what he'll do next. for example, right now? when he's at his most affable. ]
I'm sorry. [ there's a small, hesitant pause before she speaks again. making excuses won't help, but... ] I thought I had it under control.
[ she doesn't respond to silva's last question; she's—relatively sure that was meant to be rhetorical. ]
☲ action
Mm-hm, you thought. [ there it is again, that pitying noise—but this time with lowered eyes, pursed lips, a tightening of the jaw. little, minute nods. then he drops his head with a dramatic sigh, letting it hang from his shoulders in mock disappointment. ] No, I'm sorry.
[ he rises abruptly, crooking his fingers in a swift, perfunctory motion, before turning and walking toward the lavish bedroom. ] Come with me.
☲ action • bonafide lovin' is the worst soundtrack for this tag jsyk.
again. so perhaps it's not all that comforting, in the end. )sévérine taps her nails against the desk once in quick succession before gracefully uncurling herself from the chair and standing up, following two steps behind silva. when she makes it into the bedroom, she stops as close to the door as she can, bracing herself ever-so-slightly against the back of the nearest chair. she doesn't move beyond that, save for watching silva—but after the events of the past few days, forgive her for not being terribly eager to take the initiative. ]