Very firm on that. It wasn't Mr Jopson's decision, and he's right, he will in fact accept whatever punishment comes his way. Crozier watches him, both aggravated and curious, still. This is someone he has to trust in a way that's nearly intimate— surely not how most see it, he knows Ross finds his aversion to be a funny old thing. It's just the help, and to be sure that's the truth, but as many people in Crozier's set are the help as not.
Sits awkwardly on his shoulders. Probably for Jopson, too, who is just doing a job, and did not sign up to have anything about himself dissected for the great crime of assuming he'd actually be doing said job.
Beginning again, after a moment,
"Here, the position you have put me in: If you shoulder the blame for trouble you only had half a toe in after all, I'm both a fool for believing you and a tyrant for punishing a whole man for the toe. Or, I reverse course, and I'm giving gross favoritism to my personal steward, letting him get away with behavior that anyone else would be lashed for. Either way my authority is eroded, and either way you're jammed somewhere unpleasant, be it in resentment or maiming." Francis leans back, huffs a sigh halfway, rubs one hand with the other, absent. He raises his eyebrows like a shrug. "And you didn't even get the catharsis of knocking someone's teeth out for it."
So what's the bloody point. He keeps looking at him, at the way Jopson's embarrassment is beginning to paint his face. Crozier's not one to indulge in humiliation, isn't trying to turn any screws. Not yet decided on how to proceed, is all.
"There are a number of skilled liars in the world," he continues, contemplative. "They have giddy love affairs with it. But for most of us it's struggling through the mud, even when it seems noble. I hope you never grow any more deft at it."
no subject
Very firm on that. It wasn't Mr Jopson's decision, and he's right, he will in fact accept whatever punishment comes his way. Crozier watches him, both aggravated and curious, still. This is someone he has to trust in a way that's nearly intimate— surely not how most see it, he knows Ross finds his aversion to be a funny old thing. It's just the help, and to be sure that's the truth, but as many people in Crozier's set are the help as not.
Sits awkwardly on his shoulders. Probably for Jopson, too, who is just doing a job, and did not sign up to have anything about himself dissected for the great crime of assuming he'd actually be doing said job.
Beginning again, after a moment,
"Here, the position you have put me in: If you shoulder the blame for trouble you only had half a toe in after all, I'm both a fool for believing you and a tyrant for punishing a whole man for the toe. Or, I reverse course, and I'm giving gross favoritism to my personal steward, letting him get away with behavior that anyone else would be lashed for. Either way my authority is eroded, and either way you're jammed somewhere unpleasant, be it in resentment or maiming." Francis leans back, huffs a sigh halfway, rubs one hand with the other, absent. He raises his eyebrows like a shrug. "And you didn't even get the catharsis of knocking someone's teeth out for it."
So what's the bloody point. He keeps looking at him, at the way Jopson's embarrassment is beginning to paint his face. Crozier's not one to indulge in humiliation, isn't trying to turn any screws. Not yet decided on how to proceed, is all.
"There are a number of skilled liars in the world," he continues, contemplative. "They have giddy love affairs with it. But for most of us it's struggling through the mud, even when it seems noble. I hope you never grow any more deft at it."