Animus had been visiting the Circle more often since he had decided to join the Arrows. After all, how better to get a feel for how the Arrow operated than to train with them? But today was another matter entirely. It was Consilium business that brought him here, not Order business. Animus enters the sanctuary, looking around for Epopt Pym.

And Epopt Pym is indeed there. Deeper into the building, in a small, outside exercise yard. The one his predecessor used. Instead of practicing kata, however, or working towards perfection of body, Henry is simply lying there, on his back. His knees folded up, his head resting on a folder containing who-know-what papers.

Eyes fixed on the sky above, he throws an old baseball up a few feet, then catches it with the mitt in his other hand. Then throws it once more. Then once more. It's certainly a different type of exercise to Zilker's. But just like the rest of him, his methods to help along his thinking are malleable, a blank slate to which he can apply his needs.

Animus stays back, just watching for a few tosses. Not something I'd expect to see him doing. But then again, what is there to expect with him? Finally he steps into the Epopt's field of view, with just a hint of nervousness. After all, it's not like our last conversation went stallarly. "Can I speak with you a moment, Henry?"

The ball comes down inside the mitt again, and Henry turns his head to look at the Hierarch. He holds up a single finger, the universal sign for 'just a minute', and takes a brief look around, turning his head this way and that. This is exactly the reason he hated this place. Too many people thought they could find him here. And I keep giving them reason to think it.

His *ahem* naturally careful way of doing things sated, he turns back to Animus, and starts to sit, a hand almost immediately grabbing the folder and holding it tightly under his arm. "Of course." He brushes off some of the grass stuck to his jacket, and answers, simply. "What can I do for you, Hierarch?"

Animus plops down on the grass facing Henry, heaving a sigh. Hierarch. I doubt I'll ever be comfortable with people addressing me by title. For a few seconds, the Thyrsus is silent, brooding. In truth, he still didn't know what to make of Eclipse's letter. That Animus was the closest thing to a Thearch the city had was ... troubling. But there were so many other issues left by the Deacon's absence.

Finally, he meets Henry's eyes. "Eclipse has left the city on personal business. I need ..." No. I was wrong to press him into service the first time. I won't make the same mistake "You're the best choice we have for Mastigos Councilor. Are you willing to take it?" The other questions could come after. But this needed to be established first. The level on which he'd deal with Henry would inform how the other topics would be broached.

Henry lets the Hierarch think in silence, lets the man ponder exactly how to approach him about whatever it was that he had to talk about today. He watches the man think, gauging every reaction, every tic. When Animus meets his eyes, Henry does likewise, starting straight into them, unflinching. As soon as the subject matter comes out, however, a few twitches move across his face. His eye here, the corner of his mouth there. Nothing extreme, but small twitches that either betray what's going on under the surface, or are just another mask.

It takes him a few seconds to answer as well, almost a mirror of Animus's own hesitation. When he speaks, it's in an almost-whisper, like this was a shadowed meeting in enemy territory. "And if I say no. What then?" He looks at Animus still, serious. he gears in his head, which had already been spinning about a different subject, make an almost audible SKRUNCH noise as they switch topics and start moving at full speed. Why Councilor? He's making his move. Provost not close enough. Getting me closer. How did he get rid of Eclipse? Has the bug spread to other Watchtowers?

A mix of emotions flash across Animus' face as he considers. It would be so easy to slip into the same pattern, to force him again. But no. I cannot lose track of who I am again. Finally, he settles into a resigned expression. "Then I would ask who you think could best serve in your stead." Because it is no one's place to dictate the positions people must serve.

Henry's expression becomes intrigued, curious. Now that is definitely a choice. He really does want me to choose, either me, or the next person he asks. Why? Henry had already pondered that question, and its implications. It was just a matter of changing that one piece of the puzzle, and making everything else fit around it. It clicked, almost instantly. He knew why. There was one reasonable explanation. It fit with the previous Provost nomination, it fit Zilker's departure. It fit everything. While I was busy figuring out his past moves, he's already moved on ahead. Damn.

The Epopt's expression stays frozen in that interrogative expression for a few moments, before it finally settles back into normality. Or at least, Henry-mality. He states, blankly, "I will take the position," and bows his head, briefly. I've lost. I've already lost. I need to salvage something from this, anything. He keeps watching Animus, gauging the man's reaction to those words. But it wasn,t as important as last time. He knew what would happen now. Damn.

Animus instantly relaxes. The main hurdle down. This might actually work. "Thanks, Henry. It means a lot. Can you take over maintaining the Wards? And do you have anyone who can help you with that?"

His eyes not budging from the Hierarch's, Henry hmmm's for a few moments. This was unexpected. Entirely unexpected. He's putting that power in my hands. Why? "I will do what I can, but I should warn you, I am no Dee. Or Eclipse, from what I've gathered." A short moment of silence. "I can think of one or two Guardians who could lend a hand. I will see what can be done." Those little gears keep a-turning, and a new opportunity presents itself. "I'll see about getting help from the other Orders as well."

Animus nods. Everything seemed to be falling into place well enough, considering. But why are so many of the city's best leaving us? Is it the Abyss, continuing to spread its poison to other cities? Animus shivers at the thought, and again when he thinks of everything he's learned about the Abyss within the last few months. Would it have been better to remain ignorant?

He shakes himself out of that line of thought, although it takes more effort than he'd care to admit. "With Jack gone, we're going to need to find a new Herald. I was wondering if you had any thoughts on who might make a good choice."

The Provost's Councilor's eyes stay fixed. Even his blinking seems reduced to a minimum, studying the Hierarch. Now this, this wasn't expected, this didn't fit the pattern. The Councilor position, he could understand. But this, this... Need time to process this. He had no doubt he could process it.

But until then, best to play it safe. Cards close to the chest. "Hmm. Ash could try his hand at it. I'm sure it would suit him better than Councilor." He speaks it with the same inflection (or lack thereof) as everything else.

It was the answer Animus had come to as well. Good in that they were on the same page, but it would have been nice to have heard a differing viewpoint. Besides, we think differently enough, I'm sure there will be other chances.

The Thyrsus sits silent for a moment, apparently fishing for something to talk about now that he's exhausted his official business. Finally he speaks up. "Have you come across anything that I should know about?"

Theeeere it was. A request for information. Blank, open. Henry knew what it was. Knew what the Hierarch expected to hear. Truth be told, he would have done the same, in the man's place. The answer was simple. He had to give the man something, something no one could fault him for giving. But at the same time, give him nothing of actual use.

"There is one thing," he states blankly. "Starling, the Curator's assistant. Found him. He's dead." he lets that sink in a moment, eyes just an inch away from boring through Animus's skull. "Foul play." Another moment, another heartbeat. "Still on the trail of who might have done it."

Animus watches, discouraged, as yet another stab at conversation is effortlessly closed down. It's like trying to talk to West. Finally he glances at Henry. "Okay, since I don't seem to be having much luck finding a conversation topic, is there anything you want to talk about?"

For a moment, a sheer moment, Henry's expression is actually puzzled by that. Either he doesn't want to talk about a dead assistant, or he doesn't want to talk about THIS dead assistant. Useful either way. "Well," he starts, apparently trying to muster something from thin air. Maybe some form of emotion or humanity. In which case we'll be here for a long, long time. He takes the opportunity to dig around in his jacket for an almost-finished pack of cigarettes, and starts to fish one out. While he's putting it in his mouth, he offers, "I hear you met one of my Guardians. Triquetra. Interesting woman. Want to talk about her?" he tries, oh how hard he tries, to make it sound like a conversational opening. Maybe it is? At the same time, he offers the Hierarch a cigarette from his pack.

Animus shakes his head at the offered cigarette. Maybe he's picky about poisoning his body.

Henry's question is met with a shrug."I met her at the rage; she helped deal with a mage who was just clueless enough to be dangerous." For just a moment, a flash of sadness is seen in the Thyrsus' eyes. "Good head on her shoulders, and quite the dancer. Anything in particular you wanted to talk about?"

Henry shrugs at the refusal of the coffin nail, lighting his own with a lighter from his jacket pocket before both the lighter and the pack are hidden once more. He takes a single drag, blowing out the smoke slowly, taking minimal care to at least not send it all Animus's way. The last bits of it, however, come out in a surprised cough. Something akin to a double-take. Fake, of course.

"Hmm, just interested in my op- Wait. Dancer?" he asks with an amused smile and a raised eyebrow. "Do you dance with every new Mage in town? Or just the young pretty ones?" It's asked innocently, oh so teasingly. And really, how else could that question possibly be interpreted?

Only the ones who might understand why a man would choose to emulate an animal. But Animus couldn't say it. Not to Henry. Because Henry wouldn't understand, however much the Thyrsus might wish otherwise.

Instead he forces a light-hearted smile. "Maybe I just like the company."

"I'll bet you do," Henry answers in that 'guy way'. You know the one. The little playful smile fades away as he says it, however. Sometimes faking only went so far before reality brought him back to what he really thought, really wanted.

This was starting to seem a little bit too much like actual socializing for the Guardian's tastes, however. "Do you have a plan for dealing with the Banishers?", he asks, veering the subject straight into another matter. Nothing but the job, nothing but the mission.

Mention of the Banishers brings back echoes, of shame, of failure, of pain. If I had led better, faught smarter, we never would have had to worry about them again. For a moment, the hint of the animal becomes a bit more pronounced in Animus' body language before he forces his focus back to the present.

"We found three Hallows between the bridge and the Bismarck, likely choices for them to have moved to. When we strike next, it won't be like last time. We know what to expect, what to plan for, and there won't be mistakes." The Thyrsus' voice wavers at the end, as if it's himself he needs to convince more than the Epopt.

Henry's eyes stay, unwavering, on the Hierarch. "I'll stake them out myself if it will help. One by one." There is cold certainty in those words. No doubt, no hesitation. Another long drag, another puff of smoke dissipating into the air. "Still having doubts?" Some might have said it with concern, curiosity, or at least a little bit of compassion. But here it is a toneless statement. A small part of his consciousness starts to calculate how to help the leader of the Consilium get over it all. Each man is different, each copes, or snaps, in his own way. What is his? How to twist him into what he needs to be?

Animus considers for a moment, then nods. "It would help. Just ... don't try to confront them on your own, okay? I guess I can mark them on a map or something."

Henry's question, meanwhile, elicits a slight wince. So ... clinical. As if I were some sort of fish or something that he were examining. It's not a comforting thought. "It's hard not to, after how horribly wrong that went." After I sent you away. After I left Tug to fend for himself against those three. But I've learned since then. Haven't I? "But I do what I must. A few doubts aren't going to change that."

The barest curve of the mouth, the slighted reincarnation of the smile from earlier. This time however it is humorless. "Concerned for my safety, Hierarch? Don't worry. If there is no good opportunity for a single man, then I will wait for the task force." Which still left him a good way out if he saw that one golden opportunity to wipe them all out. Preserving the souls of the rest of the Consilium was a concern.

"You might not like the way I handle things, Animus," he continues. A name, a signal. This was personal, mano a mano. He even makes a big effort for the tone to sound as though the words came from the heart. He's largely successful in that, even if he didn't like sounding so... open. "But know this : If doubt stops you, if doubt slows you, I am here to help. Don't hesitate to talk to me." Or I'll fix that doubt the hard way, the thought went.

When a wild animal is cornered by a predator, it knows that it must fight with every reserve to have a chance at survival. That same resolve, the assurance that desperate times would be met with an unyeilding will, now creeps into the Hierarch's voice, for a brief moment driving out all hesitation."It won't stop me, Henry. I'll make sure of it." Before long, his expression has faded back to normal. I'll deal with my doubts in my own way, in my own time.

Henry inclines his head a fraction of an inch for a short moment, the first time his eyes have noticeably broken contact with Animus's. "Good." Because really, what else could you say to that? Certainly not the truth. A moment of silence, a hesitation on the Epopt's part. "I'll contact you as soon as I have something on those Hallows." A part of him is relieved that the focus is off of casual conversation without him wearing any sort of alternate identity. That kind of talk just felt so... honest and straightforward. Uncomfortable didn't begin to describe it. "Is there anything else for today, Hierarch?"

A moment's pause, then Animus stands, brushing some of the grass off of his clothing almost regretfully. "No, that will be all. Thank you, Henry."

Henry watches the Hierarch rise. "Any time. Stay safe" he answers. A few moments later, he starts to get up as well, the folder he has with him tucked instantly under his arm. Job wasn't going to do itself.

Councilor... Book was going to kill him.

And so the two parted, the man who thought like an animal, and the monster who thought like a man.