[ He's just on his way to Sigewinne's office as he sees the boy departing.
Put kindly, Lyney looks like hell. Tired eyes with a bruise beneath to match. Bandages at his ribs and over his shoulder. More bruises just beginning to tinge his pale skin, blue-red smears in indistinct shapes. At first, Wriothesley fears the worst--that someone's done this to him, that he's finally been roughed up by another inmate punching well beneath their weight--but if a fight had taken place, one outside the ring, his guards would have let him know by now.
A picture comes together in his mind, and with it, a surge of quiet white anger.
Sigewinne's office forgotten, he steps to the boy, nearly taking his good shoulder in his hand before thinking better of it. There are others around, and though he trusts that Lyney hasn't said anything to anyone, he still finds himself wondering what might happen if the truth of their last encounter gets out. Touching him in public seems a betrayal of the secret, a gesture from which someone will pluck the secret. And that, in itself, fuels the irritation already in place. ]
Lyney.
[ He waits until he turns around, then gestures shortly. ]
Come with me.
[ It's all he can do not to question him here and now, ask him what the hell he was thinking entering the ring. But he holds back, turns on his heel, and makes for his office. They'll talk there. ]
no subject
Put kindly, Lyney looks like hell. Tired eyes with a bruise beneath to match. Bandages at his ribs and over his shoulder. More bruises just beginning to tinge his pale skin, blue-red smears in indistinct shapes. At first, Wriothesley fears the worst--that someone's done this to him, that he's finally been roughed up by another inmate punching well beneath their weight--but if a fight had taken place, one outside the ring, his guards would have let him know by now.
A picture comes together in his mind, and with it, a surge of quiet white anger.
Sigewinne's office forgotten, he steps to the boy, nearly taking his good shoulder in his hand before thinking better of it. There are others around, and though he trusts that Lyney hasn't said anything to anyone, he still finds himself wondering what might happen if the truth of their last encounter gets out. Touching him in public seems a betrayal of the secret, a gesture from which someone will pluck the secret. And that, in itself, fuels the irritation already in place. ]
Lyney.
[ He waits until he turns around, then gestures shortly. ]
Come with me.
[ It's all he can do not to question him here and now, ask him what the hell he was thinking entering the ring. But he holds back, turns on his heel, and makes for his office. They'll talk there. ]