[He knows the conversation was turned to block an outright denial. But that won't stop him from pressing back.] Clothes are part of presentation. They are important, vital, even, for immediate social communication. They don't say who you are but who you want people to think you are. A very quick form of speaking. I'll take black, by the way. We can be a bruise on the world. Who are you talking to, and what are you trying to say?

[He sees what Brax did there. He was probably a grand politician in his day. And an actor.

He stops for a moment and thinks. Usually, he attempts to be blunt in his explanations, his recommendations are what contain the veiled suggestions. So he decides to just dance around the subject for a while until he's gathered more information.] I would have asked the cat, but it seems to be curiously absent and it tends not to be a very good conversationalist. [He raises a brow, not disagreeing with being a bruise on the world, but finding it a curious metaphor at the moment.]

Truthfully, I prefer to give the impression of formality, more so now than ever, because the idea of embracing disgusting tribal ideas of dominance rather than civilized mannerisms is more repulsive than ever. But also to appear dutiful, even if it's the original ideals behind the uniform I wear that I keep in mind rather than what it truly represents.

[He gives Braxiatel another once over, before taking a sip of his tea.] The Jaguar Pride is well known for its decadence, and they're inclined to dress and surround themselves with extravagant objects. They're artisans. Actors. Musicians. I admire them greatly. You almost remind me of one, but you have very contradictory reservations. It's difficult to explain, as if you're academically aristocratic. Does it come with a rule sheet? -The game, not your clothing. [That's a straight-faced attempt at humor... even if he wouldn't be surprised if he did.]

[He puts the rule sheet for Risk on the table. It's Braxiatel's calligraphic hand-writing in ink on vellum.] I can lend you a rule sheet for my clothing later. [Possibly a joke. Possibly not.] I do appreciate the fittingness of a traitor presenting a dutiful image: the sort of irony that loops back around to be exactly as it seems once more. Sherry is waiting for her chance to hunt you. She appears convinced that you are her personal prey. [Which is why she has found somewhere very sneaky to hide (probably under the sofa) and is waiting for Rhade to stop paying attention.]

[The game of juggling subjects asks for quick play. Throw in something in the middle, twist, and see the result.] I imagine I would enjoy the Jaguar Pride. There will have been something called the Heletian Empire, evolved out of a troupe of colonist actors, who revere and devote themselves to theatre. The really tragicomic thing about them is that their politics are more poorly staged and less interesting than what I knew back home. Have you ever heard of Henry Irving?

I assume despite the failings of their politicians in exhibition that they were competent in other ways, if they formed an Empire. [He takes another sip of tea.] While you seem especially good at political repartee I suspect that it permits a good amount of frustration to build when you have to wait for opportune moments to vent. It's likely better that you've embraced theatre as well. [Veiled advice and subtle acknowledgement of some sort of frustration.] I'm afraid I've not heard of him. Tell me more. [He takes the rules to look over them, faintly surprised they're hand-written, yet simultaneously not surprised at all.]

I always despised the Coordinator's company and appreciated his presence. If ever I had a very bad day, I knew he would leave me ample opportunity to let the venom out. It is why, I confess, I am not altogether distressed that he is here. [Clearly he is only miffed about the tongue thing because it gets in the way of arguing.] Henry Irving was an actor-manager from England, Earth in what was known as the Victorian period. He did a lot of good work for Shakespearean acting. The actor-manager is a person that more or less vanished from theatre by the end of the following century, replaced by those who were strictly managers. It is the distinction between armies where generals direct from the back and those where generals lead from the front lines. When the Heletian Empire collapses, it is because they were hoist by their own petard. [He puts down his first black piece to claim a bit of Asia.]

[He tilts his head and considers everything that he says, and puts down a piece in Europe.] Unfortunate. Though perhaps more appreciable in a literary sense than growing old and stagnant just to be overrun by another dynasty. [Which makes him look at China.] During that- [Ugh, he didn't want to mention what he'd done. -I wrote Narvin a note. He responded to me in a surprisingly cordial way when things had returned to normal. [Is he concerned Narvin is going to leave?]

I hear it will be a good piece of theatre that topples them. [He puts down some troops in Australia.] I'm rather surprised you wrote to him. Might I ask what you said? [Rhade left the opening. Braxiatel had to take it.]

[He rolled his eyes up.] I apologized for being so competitive. [A Nietzschean apologizing for being competitive.] He asked me later why I had.

[He allows himself a little snort of amusement at that.] And why him? When there must have been a number of others you to whom you showed your competitive side.

He still cared about his people. Mine turned into something I abhored. I admired his devotion, even if his arguments were somewhat flawed.

[Braxiatel's smile is a little fond at the thought of Narvin's flawed arguments. He's still remembering the very beautiful 'I am not prejudiced against lesser species' declaration.] Yes, he's quite good at that. Despite everything, he still believes that his people are worth saving.

So do you. Some of them. [He placed a piece in Africa and looked back to the rule sheet as he double-checked something. And then back at Africa again.] When he asked why, I asked him in return, "What's the difference between having nothing to lose and nothing to gain?".

[Braxiatel is being generous with where he places his pieces instead of grouping them, but there's a method behind it.] Did he know the correct answer?

[He'll start grouping them eventually. He's sticking to border country now.] He grasped the technicalities. [This is what Narvin is good at.] The difference to you?

[He is, with his placements, quietly undermining larger cohesiveness.] Somebody with nothing to gain is without purpose. Somebody with nothing to lose is without limitation. The difference between surrender and liberty.

That's the unusual thing. For that week, I felt as though I had nothing to lose no matter what choice I made for myself. I had already forsaken my life and involvement with me would bring about eventual destruction. That all of my attempts to protect my people ended in their corruption, and it infuriated me and I knew that I was less than everyone.

But now, I have nothing to gain. I'm confined here, the only one of my kind, snarling ideologies at collectivists despising my position of inferiority. I hate that just as much. [He examines the piece he's holding, wondering what that uniform would have actually looked like, before he puts it within the Europe/Asia border.] But I do still have an interest in your well-being, even if now it's not attempting to remove myself from the equation. So whatever is troubling you, I wouldn't be opposed to a metaphorical scenario involving allusions worthy of the Heletian Empire you mentioned.

[He smiles a little at that. By being direct about his feelings at the time, Rhade has blocked Braxiatel's tactic of prying into them.] Are you aware that I am more honest with you than I am with most? Or perhaps I should ask if you understand why.

[By the way. Chartreuse feels it is time to make her way from under the sofa around to behind Rhade's chair. She has deemed them suitably distracted.]

I've suspected. I've even wondered about it. Being fairly confident that it's of mutual benefit I've perhaps somewhat unwisely not pondered the issue too deeply. [He misses the impending feline attack as he has become distracted.]

It's something you may want to think about. [He doesn't elaborate.]

Narvin was grievously assaulted the other day. I have no doubts that he's going to use the death toll to escape the permanence of his mutilation.

[That got a glance off to the side, before he mentioned Narvin. An eyebrow climbed a bit in surprise.]

Mutilation? [Okay, the other brow pops up to join it.] Who's responsible?

His inmate. Ardent didn't want him communicating something. [Rhade can infer what happened.]

I see. And direct retaliation is somewhat limited. I can imagine what I would do if a member of my Pride was harmed, I had the resources to take action, but at the same time run the risk of losing those resources. Ultimately, for future need, self-interest prevails.

That's likely the wisest course of action. [And something for North America.]

[Rhade, a cat is trying to catch your hand.]

Just don't use your resources. Use those of- [And suddenly Rhade makes a strange sort of noise, half rising out of his chair and really looked for a moment as if he were going to hop onto the table.

But then he settles down again as if nothing happened. Because nothing did happen, did it? Artfully choosing more perimeter forces, in this case Alaska.]

-someone else. That is if his warden doesn't deal with it in a suitably ruthless manner. He seems like the sort that enjoys lashing out himself when he has the chance. [He might be batting at a cat beneath the table.]

[Braxiatel lifts an eyebrow, but chooses not to comment on the combat going on under the table.] I'm not vengeful—no, that's not true. I have an ironic sense of humour. [Is humour the same as vengeance? Apparently, yes.] But I am not one to take vengeance. No irrational behaviour: the Enlightenment ideal.