11-30-2014, 03:45 PM
Azubuike had clearly trusted to the surface of the conversation; the expression on his face made it plain he had been expecting questions about his school, and was now uncomfortable with the accusatory turn of things. He knew who Natalie was, in as much as she was the granddaughter of someone important within the CCD. But they'd never addressed it; had never had the need. The way his brows began a slow narrowing over his eyes she suspected he was about to rally a defence on her behalf, so she cut in before he could.
"Take a look around you. A good look, Mr. Wilson. Is that really the question you wish to ask of me?"
She paused a breath, but not to give him the opportunity to make amends, just to let the reprimand bite. He chased a scandal in the midst of a tragedy, and she made no bones of her cold distaste for his choice. "You've noted, I'm sure, that Legion Première and the Red Cross have worked together before. If you are too shy to ask my mother of her involvement directly, perhaps you might instead pose your question to Mr. Danjou himself."
She made a vague gesture that accounted for a cool dismissal, pointing out where the press began to gather, and turned her back.
He wasn't wrong. She'd known the moment she'd clapped eyes on the legion's men that her mother had indeed paid for her safety, and she did not care whether it tarnished her family's name that she did not outright denounce the accusations. The risks her mother had taken did not soften her towards protecting the woman's interests, even though she'd probably have been dead without them. A man like Wilson would not get anywhere close to questioning Eleanor Northbrook anyway, as well he probably knew. If he tried, he would be squashed under heel. Her family was well versed in protecting its reputation.
Of his luck with Jacques Danjou she could not say, but she hoped he fared poorly. She did not like him.
Azu grumbled something low in his throat as the man left, but did not speak his obvious dislike for the American reporter's blatant disregard of his people. He thought too well of others to be so wounded from the rudeness, but such was the boundless compassion that had made him a successful teacher. Arms folded, Natalie stared passed him to where Jacques had emerged to the ardent furore of circling press. A moment later she was aware of Jay at her shoulder.
"Why wouldn't I? That french accent, you know."
It was a dry tease. She glanced up, the bare hint of a smirk on her lips. The reporter had put an edge on her frustration, and she was not done making Jay pay for running out of her room at the embassy. Or making her chase him. Her sharp humour sparked like dry kindling, ignited by the conspiratorial slide of his eyebrows behind those damn glasses. "I've plenty I'd rather be doing, but don't encourage me to mischief. I swear to pay you back ten-fold if I get in trouble for it."
She could only see the warped image of her own reflection staring down at her, so her pale gaze only held a moment before it slipped away. But the smirk remained. She wondered how easy it would be to make a soldier blush.
He was right, though; the camp hearkened to Jacques call, casting oblivion on everything else. Natalie considered her position carefully. She was powerless here, whether other eyes watched her or not. The sense of her gift was locked from reach, though she felt it pulse almost in recognition of her need to do something. What aid even it could offer to such grim circumstances she did not know, but it gave her at least a little confidence.
Azu moved to place a brief hand on her shoulder. "I wish to hear this. I will see you later, Natalie. Before you go."
His fingers squeezed comfort before he released her, nodded to Jay, then moved on. She watched him leave, fighting off a sense of loss at the brevity of their reunion. He was a good man; too good for the harsh life dealt him. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here; the longer she stayed, the more she saw, the deeper roots of protection dived beneath the soil. Nothing would happen while Jacques was here, of that she held at least a little faith. It was after they had gone that worried her.
Rather than indulge her silent concerns, she spoke. <strong>"If Danjou wanted to move about unknown, he could, I assume. And if he'd wanted to entertain the press, he could have done so in Freetown. He's chosen the stage, Jay. A stage full of Temne refugees. What do you think it is he wants all those journalists to see?"
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"Take a look around you. A good look, Mr. Wilson. Is that really the question you wish to ask of me?"
She paused a breath, but not to give him the opportunity to make amends, just to let the reprimand bite. He chased a scandal in the midst of a tragedy, and she made no bones of her cold distaste for his choice. "You've noted, I'm sure, that Legion Première and the Red Cross have worked together before. If you are too shy to ask my mother of her involvement directly, perhaps you might instead pose your question to Mr. Danjou himself."
She made a vague gesture that accounted for a cool dismissal, pointing out where the press began to gather, and turned her back.
He wasn't wrong. She'd known the moment she'd clapped eyes on the legion's men that her mother had indeed paid for her safety, and she did not care whether it tarnished her family's name that she did not outright denounce the accusations. The risks her mother had taken did not soften her towards protecting the woman's interests, even though she'd probably have been dead without them. A man like Wilson would not get anywhere close to questioning Eleanor Northbrook anyway, as well he probably knew. If he tried, he would be squashed under heel. Her family was well versed in protecting its reputation.
Of his luck with Jacques Danjou she could not say, but she hoped he fared poorly. She did not like him.
Azu grumbled something low in his throat as the man left, but did not speak his obvious dislike for the American reporter's blatant disregard of his people. He thought too well of others to be so wounded from the rudeness, but such was the boundless compassion that had made him a successful teacher. Arms folded, Natalie stared passed him to where Jacques had emerged to the ardent furore of circling press. A moment later she was aware of Jay at her shoulder.
"Why wouldn't I? That french accent, you know."
It was a dry tease. She glanced up, the bare hint of a smirk on her lips. The reporter had put an edge on her frustration, and she was not done making Jay pay for running out of her room at the embassy. Or making her chase him. Her sharp humour sparked like dry kindling, ignited by the conspiratorial slide of his eyebrows behind those damn glasses. "I've plenty I'd rather be doing, but don't encourage me to mischief. I swear to pay you back ten-fold if I get in trouble for it."
She could only see the warped image of her own reflection staring down at her, so her pale gaze only held a moment before it slipped away. But the smirk remained. She wondered how easy it would be to make a soldier blush.
He was right, though; the camp hearkened to Jacques call, casting oblivion on everything else. Natalie considered her position carefully. She was powerless here, whether other eyes watched her or not. The sense of her gift was locked from reach, though she felt it pulse almost in recognition of her need to do something. What aid even it could offer to such grim circumstances she did not know, but it gave her at least a little confidence.
Azu moved to place a brief hand on her shoulder. "I wish to hear this. I will see you later, Natalie. Before you go."
His fingers squeezed comfort before he released her, nodded to Jay, then moved on. She watched him leave, fighting off a sense of loss at the brevity of their reunion. He was a good man; too good for the harsh life dealt him. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here; the longer she stayed, the more she saw, the deeper roots of protection dived beneath the soil. Nothing would happen while Jacques was here, of that she held at least a little faith. It was after they had gone that worried her.
Rather than indulge her silent concerns, she spoke. <strong>"If Danjou wanted to move about unknown, he could, I assume. And if he'd wanted to entertain the press, he could have done so in Freetown. He's chosen the stage, Jay. A stage full of Temne refugees. What do you think it is he wants all those journalists to see?"
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