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The sound of a window breaking woke him, eyes adjusting to the darkness and—
"SWEET MELITELE—" Dijkstra shrieked, fumbling out of bed. An owl sits, perched on the foot of his bed, staring at him ominously.
He grabs a broom, going to bat at it. The owl transforms into a dark haired woman now lounging against the footrest of his bed. It's comically large compared to her average frame that looked petite next to him.
"Phil what the HELL?" he goes to where he heard the sound of breaking glass and looks out the window. It is dark, but there is very clearly a man at the bottom of the second story drop. The pooling blood catches the moonlight. "Oh my GODS PHILIPPA YOU CAN'T JUST THROW MEN OUT OF WINDOWS?"
"It's one of the gang men, don't worry about it." She waves a hand dismissively.
"Don't worry about it? Don't worry about it, Phil? Like my unexpected leave of absence to Zerrikania, don't worry about it? I ought to have your head for that, you know!"
"You won't."
"What did you do?" He seethes.
"Nothing! I need your help so I did you a favour."
With a steadying breath, Sigismund smiles charmingly at the woman on his bed. "Of course, Your Grace, what could Your Grace possibly desire from a lowly disgraced former council member?"
"Radovid." She says calmly.
He leans over her, "for what end?"
"None of your concern." She says flatly, staring blankly at a wall.
He had half a mind to just grab her right there, but he'd never been one for direct violence. That was Isengrim's job while he did the sensible thing and manipulated information. Besides, she could turn him into goop or worse.
"You must think I'm stupid."
"Certainly not!" She defends.
He is now close enough and his eyes have adjusted to the dark enough to see the bandana covering her eyes. He grabs at it, she grabs his wrist with both hands.
"He pulled your eyes out," he observes calmly.
She is set in a frown. "Unhand me!"
"I'm not touching you." He defends trying to pull his arm back. She lurches with the movement of the large limb.
"You know what I meant Sigismund," she says rather unhappily. He pulls again and she falls onto him.
"Phil let me go," he sighs.
"Give me back the bandana."
He leans down to her quietly brushing his fingers over the red and irritated skin around her eyes. "I told you, you were pushing him too hard."
She grabs for the bandana, but he holds her hands in his massive one. "You don't know shit about him, you haven't been there. He's gone mad!"
"He was a sweet boy Phil, you worked hard to break him like this. Are you not proud of yourself?"
"You're hurting me." She says quietly.
He pulls his hand back and throws the bandana at her, walking back over to the broken window. He can see her reflection in the shattered glass. "I'm sorry." He says slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You said you wanted something?"
"I want your help, I'd rather not go to de Vleester if I don't have to. I've put myself at great risk to come see you!" She says, there's a note of desperation in her voice.
He looks at her reflection in the cracked glass, carefully picking up a shard. "Defenestration of Whoreson's men aside, I think the shattered glass accurately conveys where we stand, does it not?"
"What are you prattling on about?" She says walking towards him.
"If the window is our relationship you have not only brazenly shattered it but you, yourself, are the loose shards that will cut me. Phil, you must think I'm a fool. I have a limit to what I can tolerate. I've tolerated a lot from you, but I do draw the line at attempted murder."
She frowns, "that's a lie! You've got yourself twisted in a lie Sigismund."
"Don't. Lie to me. You know I hate it." He drops the glass, shattering on the floor.
"You must let me explain myself," she pleads.
She is desperate. He can tell in the messy short jacket, scuffed boots, and pinned up hair. It tugs at him, he suddenly loathes her. "Your actions speak louder than your honey coated words."
"Sigismund-"
"Save it, not only have you betrayed me, hurt me. You've damaged our boy!"
"He's gone mad!"
"Perhaps he has, perhaps he hasn't, the way I see it Philippa Eilhart, the culprit for such actions is standing before me, not in the movements of the King or his men."
"He is no King! He's a child!" She exclaims, emotion cracking her voice. "You're no fool, you can see that!"
"He is. He has been crowned, child or not. You cannot deny the law. You should be proud, Philippa. After all, is this not all because of you?"
"He has driven me out, he's gone mad."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly imagine why he might want you gone!" He says sarcastically. "Your Grace is so perfect and exalted, Your Grace could never have hurt the boy, Your Grace could never have seen this coming. How mad he must be to drive Your Grace out of his court."
"Do not mock me, Sigismund, will you help me?"
"Absolutely not! What makes you think I'd want you back, after all you've done? I want to go back to his court."
She grabs his hands pleadingly, "you're smarter than this Sigismund. You have to understand he is in danger, he doesn't know what kind of trouble he's gotten himself in, I need to get back."
Her touch practically burns, he pulls back sharply and she stumbles. "Get out of my house."
"Sigismund-"
"Before I call temple guard Eilhart. That'll be my repayment. Go to your secondary option, be desperate somewhere else. I want nothing to do with this." He crossed his arms again. "I won't even make you fix the window. Leave."
The owl woman replaces her bandana over her eyeless sockets. "You're making a mistake."
"Leave."