Logs:Assholes Over Drinks
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| RL Date: 21 October, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Gallagher |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Gallagher makes good on the agreement to buy Alida a drink. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 1, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aughan/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
To-the-point as ever, indeed. She got it, easy-peasy, and not terribly long after dinner, Alida's striding into the Snowasis, then shrugging off her ankle-sweeping duster and depositing it on an empty peg near the exit. Next comes her broad brimmed, cowboy-esque hat of dark brown, settled atop said peg, while gloves are thwapped soundly a few times against one strong, shapely thigh, then absently tucked into the belt that keeps wool-cotton mix pants of brown cinched securely to hips. If Gallagher's looking for her, he'll surely notice not only the white-gold of her head - a clear marker, if there ever was one - wading through the small crowd, but also the Tillekian-woven heavy sweater-shirt that wreathes her torso in lilac tones. Blue eyes certainly take in Alida's appearance, but they don't stop their casual scanning, catching her approach in their ranging sweep. When she nears, Gallagher has ready a greeting, if no smile: "Alida." A hand gestures her welcome to a seat before his eyes finish a final pass on the room before giving his attention over to her. "I trust it wasn't an inconvenient time for you." Easy to trust in that since she's here. Settling her rump in the seat across from him after she's looked all around, Alida shakes her pale head, murmurs, "Woulda sent word if it was." A peer at the water presages her laconic alto, "Tea toat'lin'?" inquiry of him around a faint grin, plus her guard-like study of his person for some moments. "So; how d'ya' like bein' a Candidate, so far?" Beat. "Ready ta flee 'r kill anyone?" Smirk. "Not a bit. No one's bought me a drink yet." Serious expression is given over to Gallagher's vaguely amused smirk. He did make a point of saying he tries not to pay when he can avoid it. He lifts the nearly empty glass, "Something to pass the time," and downs it before sliding it to the end of the table, a signal any server should be able to read as a request for attention. He's in standard work clothes, comprised of browns and -- well, browns. They're varying shades, but functional, not fashionable. It's nothing so nice as her lilac sweater. "You're colorful today," He notes, though it's hard to say if this is a compliment or simply an observation. "Adjusting." There's certainly more he could say about how he finds being a candidate, but he starts with that. "Not known for a penchant to flee, and the killing... well, seems there's enough of that sort of thing going around. Should hear the way some of those candidates that were refugees cry out in their sleep. Downright unsettling if one's of a kind to be unsettled." Which he's probably not, but he's not oblivious either. "Cheap-skate?" the blonde inquires lightly, then factoring in, "I might oblige, but..." Cue a spreading of fingers on her hands and a small shrug and grin. It's his job to buy her a round, tonight. As to Gallagher's passing time, "This place's decent fer observin' folks..." Sagenod. The compliment (hopefully) is taken with just a hint of feminine pride in looking decent, a small smile touching the woman's untinted lips as she glances quickly down at her cable-knit sweater, then back up to her drinking companion. "Saved up enough ta get not only a good one, but a pretty color, too. Sick uv' wearin' hand-me-downs, aside from my flyin' leathers." And then much much more interesting things are on the conversational plate, the bluerider focusing on the man across from her with a laser-green gaze and a small moue of mouth. "Any uv' 'em talk in their sleep? Shell, talk about it at all..." is soon inquired, the female guard's expression darkening a little. "Nabol's still warm enough in the valleys, even now." Unspoken: easier to move around freely in. "Let's call it savvy." Not that Gallagher's denying his financially frugal tendencies. Nor does he challenge his duty to buy the drinks. "Seems like a good use of marks in a place with winter like this, lots of opportunities to wear it." Between the chill of autumn and the cold of winter. "Some talk now and again. Nothing you don't likely know. Burning of crops, army pressing young men into the ranks, dealing with those who don't cooperate." He shrugs his shoulders. Then the server arrives and Gallagher defers to Alida for a drink order. "Fair enough..." the woman murmurs, then offering a passing bronzerider an observational glance before she returns greens to Gallagher. "Yep; it'll get worn enough, since Spring's cool enough, too." A few bobs of braided head are offered to what he has to report about those refugee-Candidates, the bluie soon enough noting to their server, "Whiskey-sour, please." Once the third wheel is gone again, she's noting to her tablemate just barely above the din of the crowd, "What's Crom's Guard like?" "The same." Gallagher nods to the server before she heads back toward the bar. "It's organized. Long-standing. Very thorough in training. And where you're from? I don't think you've said exactly where that is." Though his memory might be playing tricks on him. She looks a little impatient with his answers, for a moment, and then Alida clarifies just a little tersely, "The inner workins...how people...deal with one another. Professionally." Clipped off with some tightness around her eyes, "Pars." Beat. "Was thinkin' about goin' ta Crom someday...after I'd accrued a few more Turns under my belt." Cue a small shrug and head shake; she's Ilicaeth's and the Weyr's, now... though still always a Guard. "Professionally." Gallagher's not questioning, but answering. How people deal with one another is 'professionally.' His head tilts though, brows dipping. "What do you want to know, exactly?" He's not, at least in this moment, being intentionally vague, just the question isn't specific enough for him to provide an appropriate answer. "Pars." He repeats the name and nods, he knows of it. "Going to Crom is never a bad career move for a guard. What made you want to Stand?" She can't tiptoe around it very well right now, so Alida mutters her alto answer, "What's the inter-Guard dynamics like, there? Everything on the level? How's Aughan with yer folk; hands-on, 'r just the basics?" A firm nod is given to Gallagher's words of her former hope at a career move up, the blonde then clamming up for a few moments before she finally lips off a terse "Pars..." in answer to that question. She knows it'll do her no good to sidestep him...as she'd fixate on such a thing from him, too. "Didn't know we were getting so personal so quick. I like a little foreplay with my interrogations." Gallagher answers the blonde with his smirk surrendering to a smile. "Crom's like anywhere. It draws all types. I've never had any problems myself, but I suppose to draw anything from that you'd have to do a lot of sorting on just what type I am." A single brow of Gallagher's arches in challenge to the former Pars guard to try. "Things so bad at Pars that it'd drive you to change careers entirely? Or did you hope for a dragon before the caverns started shaking on hatching day?" Well, vibrating if not truly shaking. "If you want political smiles and light repartee before yer bullshit, go see K'zin," the woman mutters rather darkly, then smirking some at her tablemate. "Besides, yer a candidate, so I couldn' bed ya, anyway." A rather crass, smirky hint of a leering look at the taller Guard finally fades into her own ghost of a smile, Alida then sighing softly at his answer about the Crom guard. With the server soon arriving with their pair of whiskey sours, the woman quiets, though after they're left in peace, she answers low, "Nothin' could get me ta change careers...aside from a dragon." Snerk. "Kinda had no choice..." Eyeroll, sip. "I couldn't afford ta hope fer anything." She'll not tell him about how her Captain cut her free when she agreed to Stand...with pressure from his Lieutenant. "This isn't my political smile." Gallagher responds before clearing his throat and expression before he adjusts to a look that is downright ridiculous. It's over-done and the kind of look you'd expect to see on the face of a gold-digging escort with an old woman on his arm at a gather; schmoozey in the extreme. "Not playing political games with you, Alida. Not playing games with you at all, in fact. But would you open up yourself up as easily as a book so soon after meeting a someone? You didn't even wait until I was liquored up." This last has the trace of a tease and he picks up the drink. "No choice in Standing." He repeats before inquiring simply, "Pressure from above?" "That's yer doofus one..." the woman quips darkly, then rolling her eyes again around a small grin. "Good. Don' like fuckin' mind games," is then noted around the lip of her drink, another sip taken quickly starting to warm her up inside. Ahhh. As for opening one's self up... "I said you were dangerous." Sigh. "Yer a Guard...not an asshole, apparently. Yer also Weyrfolk." Sip...stare. "Yer only the second person I've met in enough Turns that I took a near instant shine too. Count yerself honored." She looks a little consternated and a little tired at the same time, one hand lifting to rub absently at her forehead. "It ain't as easy bein' hard as outsiders think. Gets...tiring, sometimes." And then she's waving off his words, shaking her braided head quickly, and murmuring back, "No. I chose ta Stand. Figured I'd be left without a partner." A slow, and very subtle, quiet hint of a strange smile touches the corners of her mouth, is dispersed like mist with more words. "Had my eyes on the South." "No, that's my political one." Gallagher answers briefly feigning hurt. It doesn't last. He's not committed enough to the feint, but then he's not really trying to be convincing just now. He's not really trying much with anything. "And hey now, don't write me off so fast. Might well be an asshole, and just not exposed you to that sparkling bit of my personality." What a tragedy it would be to get lumped into the 'good guy' category. "But are you saying, Alida, that I could read you like a book if I wanted? Is that why I'm dangerous?" He doesn't comment on the near-instant shine, but he certainly doesn't miss the words either. "Do you spend a lot of your time being hard?" This is asked without tease, his curiosity genuine, and a hair more gentle. "So were you thinking being left without a partner would leave you with new career choices to make? Or that Southern Weyr would scoop you up if you didn't find your lifemate on the sands here?" "MmmHm..." Alida notes dryly of that feigned hurt, the woman shaking her head a couple of times, then donning a raised eyebrow expression for a few moments to egg Gallagher on. "Yep, ya' could be. I do hear some folks callin' ya' that off the grapevine. Takes all kinds..." Sip. As for reading her like a book, well... the blonde adopts first a chipper expression, and then a completely poker one, her eyes as flat as the Telgar plain. "Tell me what I'm thinkin'..." her bland voice cues the other Guard. She drops it after only a few moments, though, and finally answers the candidate with a somewhat intense, "Yer a guy. Ya can't really understand how it is ta' be a female Guard. We have ta be colder, harder, better." Just to survive, to be anywhere near to equal, if that, in the rather male-dominated work they do. And like a tornado, the bluie powers by that moment, sipping her drink again and continuing almost casually, "The whole uv the Southern continent was a basket fer me ta pluck work out uv, in my mind. There's enough holds, a few Halls there. Official 'r not, there's always somebody who needs a little information, 'r a little muscle." Shrug. Green eyes rivet to Gal's blues, looking candidly within their depths. "A little return offering would be appreciated." After all, she has been rather open with him. Gallagher is not easily egged, nor does he seem concerned by what the grapevine has to say about him. His lips purse in amusement at the instruction to use his dangerous superpowers. Her pause then is met with an unflinching holding of his smirk. He listens as she speaks of what it is to be a female guard and of the Southern continent. And after all that, he has one question: "So, did you use candidacy to break with your guard or didn't you think you could hop a ride and just start selling your services to the highest bidder on your own?" Despite the question he does offer a little tit for tat. "Contrary to popular opinion, I can't read minds, even if I do have a talent for observation which can sometimes seem as much. Grew up here, recruited into the Crom guard when I was twelve, been there since. Trained up, moved around, been back to the Weyr on business since and then back to Crom." Beat. "I hunt when there's time and opportunity. Bow and spear, preferably." A single brow lifts, silently asking 'does that satisfy her want for a return offering?' "Just as I thought..." the woman observes around a small smirk to Gallagher's silence, then silently toasting him with a small lift of her glass before another sip's taken. With his pointed inquiry comes her low, unruffled, "I c'n see why some'd call you an asshole..." followed by a wan little bit of a smile. "That's my business..." the bluie murmurs blandly, apparently not offended at all, though she does attend to his next words of himself with focused curiosity. With his brow lift comes her small flash of a bit of grin, then a focused, "When's yer next free day? If yer up to it, I think me 'n 'caeth 'r gonna take ya' out fer a little huntin' down South." Pregnant pause, smirk, drink. "My pa' was first a Hunter, then a Guard. Bow 'n bolos, spear." Brow-waggle. "Never claimed I wasn't," Gallagher responds with his smirk. "Just remember, you're the one who wanted me to buy you a drink." Not that he apparently minded obliging, since he could've just as easily not made good on the agreement. He doesn't press the matter that's her business, for the moment. But he's a guard; they both know that's not the last they'll hear of the topic if they talk much more. "I think I've a rest on the sixth day of this seven. I'd have to say I'd be indebted to you for a hunting trip. Been here in the Weyr long enough to be itching for a day out. Sounds like you'll make a good partner for that sort of trip if your pa taught you anything worth knowing." "People call me an asshole, too..." Alida notes blandly, wiggling her brows once again, though only a little. Maybe that's why she seems to understand his directness: since she's capable of being such, as well. "Drinks c'n cure some ills not tolerated without." A small waggle of her glass with its half-consumed contents and a slick smile behind it presage the bluerider's tap of one forefinger's pad to her nose occurs with the candidate's need to get out: she hit dead-on with her assumption. Grin. "I take 'caeth down south a few times a month 'r two ta rustle up some extra grub fer him 'n the Weyr. I know a double handfulla' places. What's yer game preference; wherries, wild whers, spotty felines...?" "So you're saying you only want to talk with me when you're plied with alcohol?" Despite the dry delivery, it's been enough time in this conversation that it's pretty obvious that Gallagher's yanking her chain, trying to get a rise out of her, maybe even trying to prove that he's that asshole the grapevine claims he is. "Can't say I've ever hunted a spotty feline, but the mountain ones they find in the mountains around Crom are good enough sport, though I'm not much in it for sport. Whatever gets us the best meat." Function, not fun. "Wouldn' call it 'plied' as much as 'bribed.' After all, you are an asshole..." Alida ripostes smoothly, her mouth twitching again into a small half-smirk before she imbibes. She too is 'having fun' yanking Gallagher's own chain, their barbs perhaps a kind of banter between Guards. With the Cromese man's laying out of his preferences in stalking comes a keen flash of pleasure from the bluie's candid green eyes, and a clear, if low, "I like yer take on it. Wherries it is...plus there's a few feral pigs 'n such that show up now 'n again." Sip. "If ya wanna, we c'n examine the meat fer parasites before we toss it onboard Ilicaeth. I do that, sometimes." "Well, then what's my bribe since you're apparently an asshole too?" Self-proclaimed and not that he's seen the evidence yet. Gallagher lifts his drink for the first time and half is swallowed down in a few smooth gulps. He sets it on the table. "It'd be downright irresponsible of us to bring back meat that might be inedible. I think we'd better, as conscientious citizens of the Weyr. I'll see if I can't study up on some of the other edibles in Southern before the trip, make a proper meal of it." "Here's ta' you, fellow asshole..." Alida announces to Gallagher around a huge smirk, toasting him back, then pounding down the rest of her own drink. At his mention of other edibles comes a cock of her head, and a curious, "Like fruit 'n tubers 'n such? I know a few places that had those last Turn. Dunno' about this one..." Shrug. "There's wild flowers 'n berries 'n other plants...but I don' know what's poisonous 'r good, aside from the obvious stuff." Like needlethorn, lavender, numbweed. "A toast? You get a drink, and all I get is a toast? Some bribe." Gallagher rolls his eyes at the blonde. He lifts his own glass anyway and swallows the rest. "Yeah, fruit. Berries. Herbs. Tubers. Whatever. That's what I'll look to study up on. Could tell ya what's what if we were around Crom, even around here, but down there?" He shrugs. "Only been down there a few times." "S'more than enough other people get," the bluie notes pragmatically to her tablemate, then waggling a finger at him. Smirk. Listening to his words of plant life and the South prompts Alida to ask, "With 'riders, I take it? Never been South before I Impressed." Shrug. "I think the plants I recognize look mostly the same, aside from bein' bigger, more lush. Oh, an' sometimes kinda sunburned, if there hasn't been enough rain." Cue a spin of her empty glass. "Nobody ta' tend the wild vegetation." A pause for thought soon has keen greens moving from the air to his blues again. "You gotcher' war chest with ya?" He'd likely recognize her allusion to his guarding and/or hunting weapons. Gallagher reaches up a hand to scratch at his chin before answering, "Got down there by way of riders. Can't say as I was with riders most of the time when I got down there. I think I've a sister who Impressed down that way now." He doesn't seem certain, though. He shifts in his seat, sending fingers into a pocket on his vest to fish out the appropriate mark pieces for the drink. "I've my bow. The spear was a bit hefty." He means conspicuous. Once the marks are on the table, he's sliding out of his seat, but he's not moving to leave yet. Instead, a hand leans onto the end of the table, more toward Alida's side and then Gallagher, too, is leaning. His face invades her personal space, though he's a head's distance away still as he murmurs. "Next time, if you want to keep me for more than one drink, sort out a better bribe." Humor pulls his smirk back into place. "Close enough..." Alida comments, then quirking a brow just a hint at Gal's mention of a relative. "Must be a long time since ya' spoke to 'er..." is noted casually, the blonde then nodding at his current weaponry. "We c'n stop by Crom's barracks fer it, if y'want. Never let anyone, anything in close unless ya have to." Spears give a reach advantage. With his getting up to leave comes her own start of the same motion... suddenly arrested by that invasion of her personal space. For a moment, there's something keen, fiery in the woman's green eyes... But this time, she responds differently. As Gal hovers for a moment, 'lida moves her own face closer, closer to his, until their mugs aren't more than an inch apart, eyes looking boldly into eyes. Her breath is scented by her drink, and the subtle scents of clean sage and dragon waft from her person. Evocatively spoken: "Next time I'll leave ya' behind in the South without transportation if ya get too cocky." And, unless he can see such from the very corner of his eye, she'll lift one hand to try and lightly beep the end of the man's nose before they part. "Thanks for the drink, toots." Grin. An enigmatic smile meets Alida's observation about his family. That'll be a topic saved for a better bribe night. Something about the word barracks makes the smile that much more amused; there's something there for her to ferret out later, too. Gallagher doesn't flinch even a little as she moves nearer, his blue eyes a touch on the bright side, it's the kind of look a crafter might get when an experiment is getting particularly engaging results. He doesn't even move when she touches his nose, but what she says has him throwing his head back in an open guffaw as he straightens. "You just try it. Fastest way to meet all my sisters at once. And if you think I'm dangerous..." He trails off, letting the threat hang in the air. He might be kidding though. Either way, he's heading off with a: "See you on the sixth day, Alida." |
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