Logs:Inaccuracies
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| RL Date: 2 August, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, Edric |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie finds Edric going through the financial records. |
| Where: Records Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Erinta/Mentions, X'vin/Mentions |
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| It hasn't taken long for the visiting Steward to make good use of the records room. One of the long tables has been commandeered for his purposes, with stacks of paperwork, ledgers, and other items of note laid out in neat rows. Edric is, for the time being, standing in front of those stacks with his arms folded and an expression of intense thought in place. His mouth twists to one side, his bespectacled gaze moving from this pile to the other with a sense of purpose - but no immediate context to frame that purpose in. A soft, thoughtful sound escapes him after a time and he leans just enough to survey another stack. So it goes. Successfully descending the spiral staircase when in Hattie's condition is a little bit of a precarious thing, yet she slowly manages the journey with only a wobble or two, and one instance of a palm pressed to the wall to steady herself. She glances back up the stairs, considering, once she's safely on level ground, but only shakes her head and makes her way out into the records proper, her progress down one of the aisles quiet and at an amble rather than with clear purpose. When she arrives at the end of the aisle, bringing Edric's chosen table into view, she stops and observes him for a moment or two, before asking a dry-voiced, "Something objectionable?" Arms unfold and Edric prowls around to the other side of the table to press his fingers to one pile of paperwork. His thoughtful expression skews toward the concerned end of the scale and he reaches for a book that's been opened and set aside. He takes up a writing utensil and puts it to work, jotting down a few quick notes. His handwriting is neat and concise; the handwriting of a man who does this kind of thing for a living. It might seem, at first, that he's oblivious to Hattie's arrival even after she speaks. When the noting is done, he puts the utensil down, straightens, and folds his hands behind his back. An inclination of his head pulls Hattie into his line of sight and a his lips press into a thin, polite smile. "Inaccuracies," might as well be the same thing. "But. Nothing that cannot be remedied." Hattie takes a half-step to the left and folds her arms into the small of her back as she leans against the end of the row of bookcases. "In what vein?" she questions evenly enough, still fidgeting to try and get comfortable in her leaning stance when she speaks. "Or, I suppose I should ask of what sort, if they're not confined to one particular element." Truth be told, she watches the records more than she holds Edric's gaze, though even her study of those is a half-distracted, distant sort. "Regardless, it's good to know that there's nothing fatal," adopts the same dryness as before, her smile nothing more than the twitch of one corner of her lips. "Financial inaccuracies," comes the clarification. Except it isn't, not really. Edric's hands are held behind his back for the span of those words - and then he's right back to work, reviewing this file or that and making his notes while she speaks. There's a pursing of his lips and a sidelong look to Hattie after a beat. "I can't be sure of just what the issue is until I've had a chance to see the big picture." A pause. "And it must be a very big picture, or Erinta would not have asked me for help." He moves to another ledger and glances at it before putting it on a different pile. "It will not be fatal," he intones. "But it will hurt." If Hattie is at all alarmed or already aware of what she's enquired about, there is not the tiniest bit of concern to be read in her gaze, nor anything proprietary when her focus lingers on the various ledgers. "Or she's unable to handle it on her own," she says with a shallow shrug of one shoulder. "She's young in her job, at least so far as Fort goes." She tips her head back against the bookcase. "That it doesn't hurt too many, or can be confined to only hurting a necessary few would be one of the more important matters, I would think. If it must hurt at all." More stacks are adjusted. More notes made. Edric lifts his head and looks at Hattie over the rims of his spectacles. "So I have heard. I would have thought the Weyr would have chosen someone with more experience." Matter-of-fact. He straightens again. "Regardless. She seems capable." There's a but there, uncertainty hanging in the balance that's dismissed as he moves on - both physically and conversationally. "No. The hurting is inevitable. Mitigating the damage, on the other hand..." He sucks his teeth. "We might be able to manage that much. But," and, here he lifts his chin briefly, "I'm not in the business of making promises." "I'm afraid I can't speak as to the why of it," Hattie replies without any particular inflection. "I'm sure that the Weyrwoman has her reasons for appointing her, and I trust that they're good enough to believe that Erinta isn't going to cause harm or chaos." She fidgets again, hands that are curled into fists pressing more firmly into her lower back. How firmly she tries to believe that is only belied by the silence that follows, a heaviness settling in dark eyes that wasn't there moments ago. "Promises are difficult to keep, even with the best of intentions," she murmurs. When she refocuses on Edric, she's more or less schooled her expression back to neutral. "Forgive me, but I've forgotten your name." "Desperation," is his theory, but Edric doesn't delve too deeply into it. The appointment is done, after all, and it must now be reckoned with. "Erinta is not, in my limited experience, one to worry about. She is doing the best she can." The inflection there is subtle, but speaks volumes on his thoughts about her abilities. All the same, his judgment is not unkind at its core. Just an observation. Nothing more. Talk of promises is left to drift away; the more pressing matter is that of names and he nods but once as forgiveness. "Edric. Steward of Black Cliff Hold." Another polite smile, thin as it is, and a shallow bow follow. "At the service of Fort Weyr - if only until this situation is rectified." Finally, there's something more animated about Hattie's expression, though it's only the slightest flinch in response to Edric's stated theory - a theory she then cannot seem to bring herself to comment on. "I'm sure she is," sounds bland enough, or it would, were it not for the sigh that accompanies it. She must have finally lodged a knuckle against the right joint in her spine, for she doesn't offer the dip of a bow or curtsey in response, and has to settle for the bob of her head instead. "Hattie," she provides, necessary or not. "Elaruth's. Junior - or will be, I suppose, when I'm on-duty." The stress on her rank is only a half-moment's change in her tone. The stacks are given a final once over and Edric, at last, begins to start putting things into proper order for the sake of filing. An eyebrow lifts, just slightly, at something Hattie says - or does, or doesn't do - but the expression is fleeting. The introduction is met with a dull mmm of a sound at first. Then: "It would seem that everything has been in flux here. Interesting." Bland, that. He places his notebook and ledger into a satchel that had been on the floor next to one of the table legs. This bag is shouldered and his carefully arranged piles of paperwork and ledgers are left as they are for now - to be filed shortly, but likely not by him. "I will hope, for the Weyr's sake, that nothing more will change." "Not everything, I would hope," Hattie utters lowly, pushing away from the bookcase in an unconscious mirror of what she interprets as the intention to depart. A shuffling steps sends her around the corner and back into the aisle that she's already walked the length of once, yet it's with greater purpose and intent that she begins to scan the shelves and spines of various volumes. "And I'll hope that both you and Erinta are what you'd seem to be," she replies lightly enough, distraction layered atop the words, whether affected or otherwise. "Enough, then," Edric responds with a slight roll of his shoulder. He half-turns enough to crook a finger at a recordkeeper and gestures at the piles on the table. The command is given without a word and he's in the midst of turning fully to make good his departure when Hattie speaks again. "You can confirm my credentials with Black Cliff Hold - and X'vin, if that is a concern." A tip of his head follows and he finally moves for the exit. "Good day to you, weyrwoman." |
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