Would it be a disappointment that at the very moment the former Governor finally looked up to meet the current Governor's gaze, he would find the slightly younger man's eyes to be shut. Listening, savoring even. As Calomel finished his words, Glenn Burnie would be at the very end of one deep, long exhale. "Sometimes, Cinnabar, sometimes," he began, opening his eyes with a little grin. "I feel like I am talking to myself around here. You've become a fine human being. Never let anyone say otherwise." The tone wasn't patronizing, not even a little, leaving the silver-haired man, once again, to ponder the meaning.
"What to do with you, though?" Now that Cinnabar had made his choice, this really was the big question. He COULD undo everything, and not even intentionally. "You remember when Bromn wanted a role right when you began, no? While he was a flighty populist fop and you are not, the sad fact of the matter is that having you too close will cause...difficulty in and of itself. Too much, too close, too soon." Good posture collapsed all at once as Burnie slumped back dramatically. "Also, and I do hope you forgive me for this, I'm going to give you plenty of chance to change your mind. That is, no titles, no being Head Constable, no spot on the Defense Committee. No Adviser's office. Nothing official, not yet. No official responsibility." Burnie held the cards here. All Cinnabar had was a right of refusal and the potential option for escalation, but that was hardly the friendly way to make amends, was it?
"So, you will sleep on it and if you're still sure, come back tomorrow at about this time and I will tell you the long story about how the Gaol was destroyed and how you may yet save an innocent soul, and in doing so, all of us." And that was it. He had pondered. He had decided. Every single day, Glenn Burnie fought a war against the unknown, against the unknowable. If Cinnabar Calomel was willing, it was time to open up a brand new front.