Entry tags:
FIC: Open Secret
Open Secret
Summary: Simon and Alys share a moment after the Emperor's Birthday.
Pairing: Alys/Simon (UST)
Notes: For![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
philomytha on her birthday! Loosely inspired by a commentfic written for me.
"The last guests are leaving now, sir. We've done a final sweep for drunks and the like, and the residence is clear."
"Thank you, sergeant," Simon said into his wristcom, leaning tiredly against the windowframe. The empty side parlor where he stood was silent and dim. A single lamp glowed in the far corner, and delicate plates and cups were scattered around on the antique furniture. "Go ahead and let the cleaning staff in. I'm going off duty."
He clicked off his wristcom and set it to vibrate, slipping the headset out of his ear. Outside the window, the garden was grey with the incipient dawn, but once again free from drunks trampling its exquisite landscaping. There had been no major security events this year – aside from a rather idiotic fellow attempting to relieve himself in Ezar's memorial fountain – but Simon was exhausted. He remembered a time when the Emperor's Birthday hadn't made him this tired, but that had been years ago.
A soft footfall from the doorway made him straighten up in a hurry - dammit, the cleaning staff couldn't possibly have gotten in that quickly - until he caught a waft of air from the movement, and relaxed.
"Lady Alys," he said, turning.
She smiled at him from the doorway, her dress glimmering faintly in the near-dark. As always, she wore her exhaustion almost invisibly - not a hair out of place, nor any fault in her posture, just a infinitesimal slowing of her movements.
"Hello, Simon. How do you always do that? Recognize me without looking, I mean." She raised an eyebrow at him. "If it's a Security secret, I withdraw the question."
"Nothing so mysterious, I'm afraid," he said, amused. "I simply recognized your new perfume."
"That must be useful," Alys said, walking over to the window. She tucked an arm through his and looked out at the gardens. "If only you could be persuaded to turn corporate spy, you could ruin every perfumer in town."
"Not as useful as all that; my chip doesn't store olfactory memory."
She tilted her head at him and smiled. They were almost of a height with her heels on. "I didn't know that, about your chip," she said. "It seems strange to learn something new about you after all these years."
"I live to serve, Lady Alys," he said somberly, bowing over her hand. She raised an eyebrow at him. They were always a bit punchy in the small hours of the morning, when they found each other after events like this.
"I've been meaning to ask you what the scent was," he continued. "There's rose in it, which you like, but something very distinctive as well."
"Oh, it's by one of Cordelia's scholarship students – she just finished her biochemistry degree and started a parfumerie down on Agata Street. Decent range of scents for the public, but she also does custom jobs tailored to one's body chemistry, pheromones and all that. Cordelia was quite incomprehensible about the science of it, but the girl shows promise, so I agreed to help launch her among the Vor. I'm being very mysterious about where I got it, and letting Annette take bribes for the information. A secret is the best temptation."
He chuckled at the image and wished, as he often did, that Alys could have joined ImpSec in her youth. She would have been his best agent.
"I'll let you in on the secret ingredient, though," Alys said, turning him towards the door - gentle but inexorable, and certainly irresistible.
"I'm told I keep secrets very well,” he said solemnly.
She stared at him quellingly, and he swallowed a grin.
"The key note is Dendarii feral rose," she said at last, satisfied that he was done with his amusement. "She uses them to bring some income to her home village. And I do like roses."
As they paced slowly down the halls of the residence, she didn't ask why he remembered she liked roses, or when he had started noticing her perfume if it wasn't recorded by his chip.
It was an open secret between them, after all.
Summary: Simon and Alys share a moment after the Emperor's Birthday.
Pairing: Alys/Simon (UST)
Notes: For
philomytha on her birthday! Loosely inspired by a commentfic written for me."The last guests are leaving now, sir. We've done a final sweep for drunks and the like, and the residence is clear."
"Thank you, sergeant," Simon said into his wristcom, leaning tiredly against the windowframe. The empty side parlor where he stood was silent and dim. A single lamp glowed in the far corner, and delicate plates and cups were scattered around on the antique furniture. "Go ahead and let the cleaning staff in. I'm going off duty."
He clicked off his wristcom and set it to vibrate, slipping the headset out of his ear. Outside the window, the garden was grey with the incipient dawn, but once again free from drunks trampling its exquisite landscaping. There had been no major security events this year – aside from a rather idiotic fellow attempting to relieve himself in Ezar's memorial fountain – but Simon was exhausted. He remembered a time when the Emperor's Birthday hadn't made him this tired, but that had been years ago.
A soft footfall from the doorway made him straighten up in a hurry - dammit, the cleaning staff couldn't possibly have gotten in that quickly - until he caught a waft of air from the movement, and relaxed.
"Lady Alys," he said, turning.
She smiled at him from the doorway, her dress glimmering faintly in the near-dark. As always, she wore her exhaustion almost invisibly - not a hair out of place, nor any fault in her posture, just a infinitesimal slowing of her movements.
"Hello, Simon. How do you always do that? Recognize me without looking, I mean." She raised an eyebrow at him. "If it's a Security secret, I withdraw the question."
"Nothing so mysterious, I'm afraid," he said, amused. "I simply recognized your new perfume."
"That must be useful," Alys said, walking over to the window. She tucked an arm through his and looked out at the gardens. "If only you could be persuaded to turn corporate spy, you could ruin every perfumer in town."
"Not as useful as all that; my chip doesn't store olfactory memory."
She tilted her head at him and smiled. They were almost of a height with her heels on. "I didn't know that, about your chip," she said. "It seems strange to learn something new about you after all these years."
"I live to serve, Lady Alys," he said somberly, bowing over her hand. She raised an eyebrow at him. They were always a bit punchy in the small hours of the morning, when they found each other after events like this.
"I've been meaning to ask you what the scent was," he continued. "There's rose in it, which you like, but something very distinctive as well."
"Oh, it's by one of Cordelia's scholarship students – she just finished her biochemistry degree and started a parfumerie down on Agata Street. Decent range of scents for the public, but she also does custom jobs tailored to one's body chemistry, pheromones and all that. Cordelia was quite incomprehensible about the science of it, but the girl shows promise, so I agreed to help launch her among the Vor. I'm being very mysterious about where I got it, and letting Annette take bribes for the information. A secret is the best temptation."
He chuckled at the image and wished, as he often did, that Alys could have joined ImpSec in her youth. She would have been his best agent.
"I'll let you in on the secret ingredient, though," Alys said, turning him towards the door - gentle but inexorable, and certainly irresistible.
"I'm told I keep secrets very well,” he said solemnly.
She stared at him quellingly, and he swallowed a grin.
"The key note is Dendarii feral rose," she said at last, satisfied that he was done with his amusement. "She uses them to bring some income to her home village. And I do like roses."
As they paced slowly down the halls of the residence, she didn't ask why he remembered she liked roses, or when he had started noticing her perfume if it wasn't recorded by his chip.
It was an open secret between them, after all.
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Happy birthday, my dear!