Handy downed the glass of wine as Ivorybeak blathered on, and resigned himself to, yet again, being under a ruler’s crosshairs and having to talk his way out of it. He had the means, certainly, and he had definitely made his way to sort out the affair with the Firthengarians purposefully. It was just that when he had learned there was a proper diplomat present, whose job it was to sort out political fuckery, and that it was Ivorybeak in particular, he had been hoping against hope he could toss this job onto someone else, just this once.