Logs:Brothel Therapy
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| RL Date: 28 August, 2015 |
| Who: H'vier, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier and Jo talk love and mourning....in a brothel. |
| Where: Some random brothel, Ista area |
| When: Day 1, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Strong Language (What do you expect with these two in the same scene, really...) |
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| Jo is here in a brothel. In Ista. Why she's here is anyone's guess, but she's not alone. Both M'ron and Kaitlin are with her, and the trio is settled at a round table near the back of the brothel bar in deep conversation with a man that looks like he's one of the ones running the place. There's a small lavender-tinted drawstring bag set at the table's center as they converse, while women and men in a sorts of undress populate the place this very hot and crowded Istan evening. Just as well that the convict riders are without their riding leathers, with Jo in particular dressed uncharacteristically in pale yellow sarong that bunches up into loose pants. H'vier doesn't come to these places to meet other riders. Not typically, anyway. And that's certainly not why he's here right now. The formerly Istan bronzerider arrives in airy, Istan garb that might look more decent on him if he weren't already under some level of intoxication with his usual confidence subdued by the weight of his feelings. As it is, the wingleader passes by the bar to get himself a whole bottle of whiskey and two glasses before he finds a table along the perimeter of the building to settle himself at and enjoy the views. He's not close to the other table, but his is in pretty easy view for the sort of people who keep their eyes on these things. One of the ones that keeps an eye on doors and tables and entrances is none other than Jo, so when her roving eyes ending up lighting on H'vier's familiar frame, it's a quick look before she's back focused on the conversation at hand. Then suddenly getting to her feet, "I'm sure we can work somethin' out," she's saying to the man among them, her hand already thrusting out for him to shake. The man looks reluctant to take it, but he does in the end as he gets up and passes the trio a wary look before he murmurs his words for departure. Jo doesn't watch him go, only slapping M'ron on the back as she tells her friends, "I'm gonna stick around for a bit. Don' wait up." It's knowing snorts to that one - they are in a brothel - but they're off towards the bar counter and she's angling her way straight for H'vier. Once within earshot, "Care to share?" she greets, nodding at him and his whiskey bottle as she takes a seat across from him. The knotless bronzerider is not on his game. Not even a little bit. He watches a scantily clad woman walk past him, but he says nothing to try to gain her attention. He's looking toward the other side of the brothel when he hears Jo, gaze jerking to her as though the combination of bluerider and location don't quite compute. "I'd been hoping to attract someone more..." likely to put out, probably. "Sure, help yourself," he continues a moment later even though Jo is already sitting down and everything. H'vier's dark eyes take in what details he naturally takes note of before being drawn away by another woman. He doesn't ask why she's here. He probably expects her to do the same. Studying the bronzerider before her as she goes ahead and pours herself some whiskey in the other cup, "Someone more...?" Jo seems to want H'vier to finish that sentence, a brow lifting at him before she leans back to drink. That he's not behaving in the way she has likely heard he behaves - and in a brothel, no less - "Lilah, is it?" she asks now, H'vier getting the brunt of her study rather than any passing whores. "I came here to get laid," H'vier says more bluntly. "You're gonna scare off the whores. Unless you're moonlighting as one now and you're for sale." He looks at her again, perhaps trying to decide if she'd be worth the money. But then she mentions Lilah and the bronzerider's gaze drops to his drink. He shrugs, then lifts it to his lips. "Yer doin' a shit-poor job of it," Jo notes on whore-hunting. "If anythin', me sittin' here is probably helpin' ya out, with that long face'n all. Good whores don' like sad drunks." And she's drinking, but she definitely doesn't look sad. On moonlighting, she looks down at herself deliberately before she looks up at him, shrugs and says, "Only towards the end of the seven'. Guess ya missed me in my lingerie." It's delivered deadpan. "Do you moonlight, though? How much would'ja go for?" But furthermore of it seems to die on her lips at his fallen expression when the Fortian weyrwoman is brought up. "Shit. Ya loved her." It's not even a question from her. "I've seen that look before, darlin'." "I'm perfectly capable of drawing the attention of whores. Some of them here know me quite well, thank you." He's such a well-spoken drunk. That might help in his favor on occasion. But it's true that H'vier is usually less morose. "I'll moonlight as just about anything for enough marks." He smiles, however hollow the expression ends up being, and reaches for the bottle to pour himself another few fingers. "We got on well." Settling back with her little glass of whiskey and a drawn grin, "Ya really prefer to pay for it?" Jo asks in all curiosity, now taking the time to check out the ladies walking around. When he actually answers on moonlighting, she's making a considerable face and is nodding at him. "Well, I don' think I would need to pay ya to fuck me," she's blunt and honest in stating. "'N it looks a lot more than this 'we got on well' business, darlin'. Yer ain' yerself'n anyone with a pair of tits'n a dick can see that." Draining her glass and leaning forward to refill it, "Thought 'bout takin' some time off?" she asks, her attention remaining back on him. "Step away'n gettin' yer shit back together?" "From time to time," says H'vier in regards to his preferences. "It's easier to pay someone to let you do whatever you want to them than dance around whether a girl you've been buying drinks for all night is gonna change her mind before she gets to your weyr." Whether he'd fuck her for free, well, this is H'vier. He'd fuck pretty much anyone for free. After another drink, he snorts a humorless laugh. "Aye, I've thought about it. Been thinking about a lot of things." "Ya must have some interestin' kinks," Jo notes idly as she pours more whiskey. She wordlessly offers H'vier a refill too if he wants it. "I used to remember playin' that game'n endin' the night with a drink thrown in my face. Courtin' men is so much easier." She takes a healthy drink, her eyes not leaving his when he reveals the last and her gaze drops to her glass. "Too much thinkin' ain' good," she comments to no one in particular. "Whatcha thinkin'?" A grunt comes for the first, but no proper words. H'vier nods for the refill, but doesn't immediately take a drink. "I have a wing to run. Fayla's already hoping I curl up under a rock and never come back out, I'm sure. And I don't have another 'second to keep her in check if I step back. I can't just... stop. Should be doing more. I need to be working." And fucking, presumably, the way his eyes shift to follow a nice ass that passes by. "Think I'll leave the man-courting to you." Refilling his glass like a good host, "So ya stick around outta spite," Jo concludes, giving up a soft snort. "That makes sense. Can't do more like this, though," and she gestures at himself with her study. It's an intense one, but it's focused and betraying little. "Putting yerself more into yer wing might help a bit. I'd say gettin' a lot of ass, too," she adds, following the very one that gets his eyes, "but, I dunno how that works, really. Mournin', 'n ass'n all that. Still," and she raises her glass in a sort of toast before she states, "Sorry for yer loss, darlin'. She must've been somethin' damn special, to have ya in sorts." "I stick around out of duty," says H'vier with a totally straight face, so very serious. "I think I like the idea that it would piss her off to know just how much ass I've been getting since she fucked off," he continues, lifting his glass in an acknowledgement of her sort of toast. "But thanks. I won't make the same mistake again." "Duty, spite," and Jo weighs both her shoulders, as if the words are interchangeable. She drinks from her toast once he makes it, adding on ass, "Fuck yeah. Your life ain' over.Not unless yer plannin' on gettin' shanked in the next sevenday." His last though, draws some silence from the convict rider, her bravado ebbing some from the forefront as she looks about them rather than at him and seems to be considering his last. "What, swearin' off love for the rest of yer days?" she asks, looking at him now. "Nn. That shit sneaks up on ya, though. Hard to control. Even for someone like me." "Suppose that's always a possibility." H'vier fingers his glass as his attention comes back to the more serious things. "I've managed to avoid it for most of my life. I think maybe I'm getting soft in my old age. Not very good for business." The bronzerider snorts, then lifts his glass to throw back the rest of the whiskey he has. "Who exactly is someone like you, Jo?" "Then consider yerself lucky," Jo states on avoiding getting shanked. "Believe me, it's not a fun time." She drains her glass again and reaches for the bottle to refill another. As for getting soft in his old age, there's a loud snort for that one from her. "I've seen what yer packin' under there," is all he needs to know, her gaze deliberately flicking over his covered body. Really, it's the last that gets her silence as the convict rider regards the refilled glass in her hand before the man sitting infront of her. Then, "Someone like me's 'spose to not give a fuck 'bout anybody, or anythin'." It's probably the most honest thing she's said since sitting down by the soberness of her answer. "Meant love," he clarifies. "Been stabbed more times than I've fallen in love." Which, now that he's realized as much, seems to be some measure of amusing for the buzzed bronzerider. H'vier even grins about her pointing out how soft he isn't. It is something he prides himself on, being fit and all. It's the last he responds to, though. "Everyone gives a fuck about someone or something. Suppose it's safer for us to give the fuck than for someone else to give a fuck about us." Or maybe that's just him. "I would've hurt her eventually." And not getting that chance is some sort of comfort for him. "Ah," Jo considers the clarification, nodding once. "Love. Well. Same here. Love fell me twice." She leans back to nurse her drink slowly now, H'vier's response on giving a damn earning a wry, "Ain' good for business," which is a borrow of his own words. "What dya give a fuck 'bout right now?" she asks, openly curious. That sober last earns a quiet, "Ya don' know that, darlin'. We like to think we would, eventually. But, I get it." "Twice." H'vier nods to that, gaze focusing on the bluerider. "We got so much in common." Presumably that's his number, too. "Work. I give a fuck about my work. My kids. Don't see them much. Money. My dick." All the important things in his life. "Which, by the way, is completely soft right now." He makes it sound like it's a damned shame as he sets his glass down on the table and slouches back in his chair. Laughing, "Well, unless one of your loves got ya into the mines for murder," Jo is willing to raise a glass to that one. "But yeah. We do have much in common. Likely why I'm givin' a damn'n sittin' here talkin' to ya. 'N drinkin' up yer whiskey." That's important. She listens to what he cares about, nodding at one or the other before the very last listed gets her trying to angle a look under the table. Glancing up at him, "I have the easy solution," she drawls out, nursing her drink, "but I need'ja to mourn yer fill first. In the meantime," and now she's back to looking over the passing ladies, "point one'em out for me. My treat. Let's see 'bout gettin' that dick of yers hard again." What are friends for, right? "Oh, no. None of my murders have been traced back to me. Real careful about that sort of thing." It's difficult to tell whether H'vier is joking or not because he sounds serious despite a slight quirk of his lips. But he must be joking. "Woman after my own heart," is more obviously lacking in seriousness but H'vier seems appreciative all the same as he looks over the women he can see going about their business. "That one," he decides with a nod to the blonde heading toward the bar. "The one with the ass." He's apparently not one to turn down free whores. Staring at the bronzerider with a look as if she could detect truth from lie, "I didn' kill'em," Jo is blithe in answering for her crimes, which probably makes the mine situation all the more tragic. But that detracts from the task at hand - that is, finding H'vier some good ass. Grinning at him, once he points out the leggy blonde, she's up out of her seat and sauntering over towards her in short moments. The bluerider murmurs something low towards the blonde's ear, drawing her attention towards H'vier as her roaming hands find themselves tracing one finger over a pert breast. Whatever she's saying to the blonde has her grinning, turning towards that touch before she steps away and approaches H'vier's table. Jo follows right behind her, at least long enough to say, "Thanks for drink, H'vier. I owe ya one. Think I'm gonna leave y'all to it'n settle the tab." Of course she didn't. H'vier doesn't ask questions about her time in the mines. Maybe that'll be saved for another day. When Jo goes to fetch the blonde, though, H'vier watches her. He watches them together and he watches them come back to his table. He's smiling by then, all approval for both of them, if for different reasons. "Think we can call this one even, yeah? The end of the night, I might be the one owing you." He rises up to his feet, only slightly unsteady, and seems eager to get to being led off by the blonde. But he pauses just in case, "You sure you don't wanna join us?" "Gonna take a lot more'n a few glasses of whiskey to have ya ownin' me, baby," Jo remarks to the bronzerider, watching as he gets to his feet with the blonde. "But yeah, we're even." She won't leave just yet, and when there's that offer to join them, the blonde looking more than willing for that prospect, the bluerider blows a kiss at them both before she's stepping towards the bar counter. "Guess ya'll owe me one after all," she says, it obviously being a raincheck. "Enjoy." She makes her way to the bar counter and does as she says she would before the outside takes her to the rest of her day. H'vier lifts a hand to tip an informal salute to the bluerider. And then, since they won't be joined by Jo, the blonde tugs on the bronzerider so she can lead him off for their fun. He, of course, isn't going to make her wait any longer than necessary and lets her lead the way. |
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Comments
Squishy (08:30, 29 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Mourning in a strip club... Yeah, sounds about right for these two. Funny read!
Faryn (08:48, 29 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Two peas in a pod. Hope it does Havi some good to talk to someone who understands, instead of a lot of people whose notions about him make them less inclined to be sympathetic.
Alida (19:57, 30 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Another side of H'vier that Alida would find it difficult to believe, unless she witnessed it multiple times over a stretch of time. And... that's Jo for you! Nice read. :)
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