[center][h1][b]Albert Prelati[/b][/h1]

Interacting with: Berserker ([@Grey])[/center]

[center][h2]Fuyuki Hyatt Hotel - 7:45 PM December 1st, 2012[/h2][/center]

[hider]Albert winced as she shattered the wine bottle, then winced again at her words. Then, once he saw her making a move towards the priceless Bordeaux, he hurriedly lunged to snatch it away from her before she could destroy it.

"No!" he shouted, loud at first and then softer. "Nonono... no... no..."

The magus regarded the wine bottle with relief, then sighed. "It does not work on wine bottles, ma chère. Ze immense pressure ze champagne is under is what causes it to pop like... you know what, nevermind."

The young magus pinched his brow worriedly, unsure how to handle his Servant's... rowdiness. Should he be forceful and make her aware of his status as Master? No, that was the last thing he wanted to do with a Heroic Spirit whose defining attribute was their pride. Overstepping his boundaries might irreparably damage their relationship, and he had no desire to use a Command Seal to force her obedience. It would be a waste and an insult to his own sensibilities. Then should he be calm and accommodating to her wishes? No, he'd already done that once today. 

He had wanted to approach this as a partnership, an agreement between equals, but Roland seemed determined to have it... what was the expression Americans used? "Her way or the highway". He could respect sticking to your guns and defending your principles, no matter how ludicrous they seemed to anybody else, but they had to reach an equilibrium at some point. This would be a pointless relationship if only one of them benefitted, and it would reflect even more poorly on him as a Master if he could not control his Servant. But was "control" really what he wanted?

His mind split again. Well at least it seemed like she had some military sense at least. That was to be expected. The trick then was to determine where she drew the line between duplicitous and dishonorable. Trickery and wit were a mark of pride for many warrior Heroic Spirits, but each had their own ideas of what constituted a harmless deception and what would be a grievous stain on their honor. He just needed to learn where that line lay.

"So you are saying zat you will not listen to me or cooperate wiz my plans if you find zem distasteful?" he said seriously. "Ma chère, I do not propose we skulk around in ze shadows like Assassin or play tricks on people like Caster. We are [i]French[/i]. Despite what World War Two and seventy years of memes about 'cheese-eating surrender monkeys' would have ze rest of ze world believe, we do not give quarter and we do not surrender. I intend fully to fight. 'Owever I simply propose zat we be practical about it. I am not ze kind of scumbag who would stab an ally in ze back simply to gain ze upper hand, 'owever I will take advantage of whatever opportunities are presented to me, and I have a skillset zat is better suited to strategy and gazering intelligence zan combat. Zat is why I need you."

He traced the rim of his champagne glass with his finger, looking down into it meaningfully. Finishing his drink, he set the finely-carved crystal aside, a gesture of civility and statesmanly "proper-ness" out of place with the smashed glass and spilt wind that besmirched an already weary carpet. He folded his hands in his lap.

"I 'ave power but I am no fighter myself, if zat makes any sense. I am a general, and out of all ze soldiers in my vast army you are my most powerful and trusted warrior. Would you not agree zat zis a proper anology? Even if ze general appears 'imself on ze battlefield, 'e never leads ze charge. Zat is what 'e 'as 'is men do, trusting in zem zat zey will obey 'is orders and bring 'im victory. In return, 'is men trust in 'im zat 'e will do everyzing 'e can to keep zem alive and support zem on ze battlefield. This is 'ow it was in your time too, no? Zen you know zat ze whole zing falls apart once ze men stop trusting ze general and disobey 'is orders. Ze reverse is also true. We 'ave a mutually beneficial relationship ma chère, but it does not work if you are not willing to trust in my judgment."

The moment of tension over, Albert reclined into the plush of his seat. Reaching for the bottle opener, he gently creaked open the priceless Bordeaux and poured himself a glass. He had no doubts at all that what he just said would've made her mad or insulted her pride. That was, after all, the idea. A show of force, or at least a show of forceful-[i]ness[/i]. Now it was time to relax, and show her that he was willing to work [i]with[/i] her, if not [i]for[/i] her.

"However, I am not entirely deaf or unsympathetic to your plights and concerns. If I was, I would not be doing a very good job as ze general, would I? So zen it falls into my court to ask, ma chère," he said, pouring Berserker her own glass of the Bordeaux. "What exactly is it zat you are and aren't willing to do for me? And don't just give me vague platitudes, tell me [i]exactly[/i] what it is zat you would consider cowardly or dishonorable. Zat way, we will able to work togezer better because we understand each ozer better, no?"

This had to work. This was as much quarter as he was willing to give before he started making a complete fool of himself. As a Master he thought he was being perfectly reasonable, even respectful. The only question now was would she listen to him?
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