Logs:Courting Jo
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| RL Date: 10 June, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte and Jo have their lunch date. Much is revealed. And there's flirting. |
| Where: Kitchens, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 13, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Markarin/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated and played via gdocs. |
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| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
Between drills and sweepriding this day, Jo arrives at the living cavern with her leathers a bit dusty and busy with removing her riding gear as if she's just got back into the Weyr. She pauses on the threshold so her gaze could adjust from the outside. She comes up short to the young girl that approaches her, her dark gaze flicking two and fro at any who should pay her more attention than necessary as the other speaks. Journeywoman? She gives the girl her scrutiny first, taking her time to answer with a sharp lift of her chin in acquiesce and a gesture for the girl to proceed her. Falling into step beside her, "Awfully odd, to have someone waitin' for me," she comment aloud with a look going the apprentice's way. Who are ya to her?" "J-just one of her apprentices," The girl stammers as she turns uncertainly, moving toward the kitchen. "Really, she-- she just wanted me to give you the message is all. I think she thought you could find her on your own, ma'am." Her hands rise to wrap around her long braid, pulled over one shoulder, fingers grasping at it nervously. A brow lifts. "She has apprentices?" Jo prompts as she follows, watching the apprentice (and likely making the girl nervous on purpose). The second statement made has her stalling whatever else she was going to say, nodding belatedly before she continues to follow along towards the kitchen. Then, after a few moments pass, "What's yer craft, again?" As if she had given it before. She's curious, for sure, clearly having not expected the fanfare for the set up lunch. "Oh, yeah, a lot, actually. I think Journeyman Markarin is trying to keep her too busy. Since everyone knows she wants to bartend in Snowasis." It's like Jo hit upon some magical switch. Teen girls do love to gossip. Or at least this teen girl. "So she has, well, almost all of the girls under her." There's a little roll of her shoulders, "We like it, though. She's a lot nicer than the others." Imagine that. Tayte. Nice. There's a little tap to her shoulder, "Vintner. I wanted to stop wearing my knot like she does, but Journeyman Sourgrapes-- I mean," And there's a defined blush here, "Journeyman Markarin really doesn't like it that she doesn't, and I don't have the rank to defy him and not get booted out of the craft, or something." When the young apprentice starts to speak - it all flowing out - Jo typically falls and keeps silent to listen. She takes in everything said with the look of one that's truly interested in what she has to say - gossip or not. It's all information, after all. "He doesn' want her to bartend?" she asks now as they walk, then tacks on for something else said, "Huh. Not wearin' shoulderknots. Shit, same here. Guess that makes ya lucky, huh? Not workin' for that stiff." She sends the apprentice one of her infectious grins, perhaps to encourage the girl to speak more - even though they're likely already close or at their destination. She slaps her gloves against her hand as they go, adding to the girl, "Vintner. Ya craftfolks get around, doncha? At least around these Weyrs, compared to the Holds." "Nah. He doesn't like it since we don't control the bar. But he can't stop her." There's a secretive sort of grin as the smile on the woman's face coaxes her to lean a little closer to say, "I overheard him yellin' one day because he'd gotten a letter back from the Hall saying that Journeywoman Tayte could bartend if she wanted to, so long as she kept up with her research. It even said they thought it would help with her research. He was so mad. It was funny." As it always is when someone you don't like is pissed and it's not directed at you. The apprentice girl smiles to Jo as they enter the kitchens and she gives a point toward where Tayte sits, a pair of plates on the table and beers to go with. "Best be on my way, ma'am," And then she's gone, just that quick. The Journeyman's head is bent over a small book, writing implement lax in her right hand. Her lips are pursed and her brow is furrowed. Something certainly has her thinking deeply. Leaning a bit, "Research?" Jo tries to coax out of her with conspiratory look. "She's here for some sort of research?" But then, they're in the kitchen and the bluerider looks where the apprentice points to find Tayte already seated and waiting. She nods as the girl heads off, leaving her standing there to look over the spread, and then the small book Tayte's studying. "Didn' expect to be escorted in for our lunch," she greets by saying, approaching her with a sweeping gaze over the food and beers. Meeting her gaze now, "Nice spread," she comments, the grin more genuine than its usual crass quality. "Journeywoman." The small book, if Jo takes the time to peek properly, is full of apparently random symbols (everything from hearts to smiley faces, geometric shapes, modified letters and numbers). Ocean eyes pull away from it with a smile for the source of the voice, "Well, having to corral apprentices should come with some perks. If not to escort one's lunch dates to finding them and occasional babysitting, then what good are they?" She jokes, obviously, though there is some element of truth to her words. She makes an inviting gesture for Jo to sit across from her. "I always let the cooks do the choosing for me. I find I end up with the best stuff that way, usually." She flips the notebook closed after making one more squiggly line with a dot at the end (almost an exclamation point). "I didn't take you away from a more important lunch, did I?" They hadn't exactly set a particular date, just sometime this seven, after all. Jo does take a peek, and not even discretely so. "And here I was led to believe ya were just some girl lookin' to sling drinks in a bar," she drawls that out, heading towards the vacant chair and dropping into the seat. Brows lift then as she looks over the spread and listens, though wryly, "Vintner, huh? And who's Master Sourgrapes to ya?" She gestures at the food and goes for the beer first on the question, shaking her head as she one-handedly tucks her riding gloves into one of her side pockets on her pants before answering. "What would be more important than gettin' to eat with a lovely lady? Yes," she tacks on with a cheeky grin, "this is me bein' cheesy-flirtatious. I just had sweeps and drills today, though later, I might have to head out of the Weyr for a bit, which is usual for me. So is this yer way of takin' me out on a date?" Incorrigible may come to mind with her, but at least she's trying to sound innocent. Right. "I am." Tayte answers the belief with a smile. "That's who I am," and then her fingers flick to her notebook, "That's just what I do. It's rare to see old women tending bar. The men have it easier. I'd rather not end up an old auntie repairing socks. I'd prefer to be an old journeyman or master when the time comes that I'm no good at the bar anymore. And you never asked if I was a crafter." Let that be a lesson on the Journeywoman's ability to exploit the loopholes in speech, if counting her daughter as a 'roommate' wasn't lesson enough to drive the point home. "Master Sourgrapes? Well, she's this awful woman back at the Hall." There's a glance toward the kitchen door through which the girl vanished, "But it you're asking after Journeyman Sourgrapes as the apprentices affectionately call Markarin, he's the head of the Vintners posted here. So, slightly senior. Enough that I have to show him respect, more or less." She reaches for her beer, hesitating as Jo gets cheesy and she eyes the brunette speculatively. Then she announces is, and Tayte's laughing. "For a moment there, I thought I'd made the worst judgment of character I've ever the misfortune to make. Don't get me wrong, I like a little cheese with my wine, or in this case, beer, but only when someone knows that's what they're delivering," She grins at the bluerider. "Could be a date. Could also just be a lunch between friends. Guess that really comes down to how it ends. I tend to think of dates having more kissing to them than things between friends, though the lines can occasionally get blurred." She takes a sip of her beer and then replaces it, fingers moving to flip one of those blonde locks away from her face. "Sounds like you've had a busy day so far. Where are you heading later? Or shouldn't I ask?" As a bartender, one does learn that there are times not to ask. "Crafty as a crafter," Jo drawls when Tayte mentions that she never asked, the lopsided grin laid bare. "Fair enough, darlin'." Gaze remaining on her, she's already downing a good portion of her beer - the bottle being tipped upwards to her waiting lips. She seems entertained by something said, though, she's not about to voice it. "Ya like talkin' in maybes, doncha?" she observes on whether this was a lunch date or not. The beer gets set down as she straightens up and starts in on her meal, that amusement continuing to linger there. When she asks about her day later, there's a hand wave to that as she says, "Oh, I keep busy. Used to be a time when I could hardly be found unless really late at night, comin' in. I have obligations beyond the Weyr, though, I'd imagine ya would too? Bein' a vintner'n all?" She looks to Tayte for confirmation of that before continuing on. "I mean, some of it's shit I can' really get into, but other than that, I'm mostly out either hauntin' my favorite dives, workin' on my throwin' skills-" and she briefly makes a fist, lifting it up for her to see "-and at least tryin' to be the best troublemaker I can be." There's a flash of teeth to go with that, almost as if she's joking. "I like checkin' places out. Ya know. Places I've never been, and there's still some places Tac and I haven' hit up yet. I give most of the daytime to this place, but, come nightfall...." The night was hers and Tacuseth's. Nodding to her as she digs into her meal, "What about you? When I don' get to see ya rejectin' folks in the bar, how else do ya spend yer day?" Smirk. "It's in the name. Makes it sort of a prerequisite for the knot." Tayte's tone is dry humor as she responds. "I like keeping you on your toes. Maybes are good for that. Wouldn't you get bored quickly if I spoke only in straight lines and never in zigzags or circles?" She gives a nod to confirm she does have some out-of-Weyr obligations, "Though not as many as some. My work is mostly here. And actually, mostly now that it's all snowy out." She doesn't elaborate just then, picking up her beer to drink from it before plucking up her fork to make a start of her own on the food." She picks around her plate with it for a moment before spearin a mushroom and examining it, "Do you like these?" Her tone suggests she doesn't, and there's a little movement of the fork that implies an offer of the thing to the bluerider. "What do you throw? Knives? Darts? Both?" She sounds interested in the prospect. There's a roll of her eyes for the announcement of proudly wearing the troublemaker mark. "Funny, I always find myself just drawn to the trouble-makers. No wonder we're having lunch." She doesn't laugh, but her smile does. "I've not been many places. Maybe sometime you and Tacuseth can take me about with you. I should like to see some more. And when do I get to meet Tacuseth? If I'm going to be getting to know you so well, oughtn't I also be getting to know him?" The tone she uses is one of extreme logic. "I usually wake up at a lazy hour, that's what Markarin calls it. But I make my own schedule, so there's naught he can do about it. I get my bath," Daily. Without fail. "See that Vali is squared away with the nannies and then do my research. Then I teach. A bit. Mostly applied things, which keeps it interesting. And involves a lot of keeping the apprentices from getting drunk." She rolls her eyes for this. "Then in the evenings I knit. Or practice. Or play cards. Or read to Vali. Or hang out with friends. You know, normal things. At least, I think they're normal." They sound nice and uneventful anyway. "So yer goal's to keep me entertained?" Jo counters on the maybes, a brow lifting on their wordplay. She'll only wait a moment for the answer, then adds to something else said, "But, journeyman, right? Doncha get assigned to a place, or is it normal to choose? Or, how long ya been one, even?" since she doesn't know much about the world of a craftsperson. She then moves her plate forward towards Tayte's when she offers the mushrooms, nodding to indicate that she's willing to take them on from her while she keeps up the conversation. There's laughter on the throwing question, the woman shaking her head. "I meant throwin' my fists," she clarifies wryly, "but, I do know how to throw knives, darts, too. I think every woman should know how. Somethin' yer interested in?" That laughter even lingers between them on the fact that the blonde's drawn to troublemakers - something that the convict rider is not denying. "I think ya'd be bored outta yer mind if ya were sittin' across from someone that didn' like to get dirty," she states then, her tone just a taste of suggestion thrown in. I don' think ya like it any other way, darlin'." And on Tacuseth and flying, "Anyplace ya wanna go, or need to be in a pinch," she offers, hands lifting out to indicate herself. "We can meet him right outside when we're done here. Need to give him a bath later on today." Beat. "Since yer so keen on gettin' to know me," she tacks on like it's an afterthought, that crooked grin hiking up a notch. "But really, ya have a good schedule. A good normal schedule. Can' remember the last time I ever had one of those. Maybe back when I was livin' in Keogh, long before now." "Maybe not entertained, per se..." There's that maybe again, and there's a pull to the edge of Tayte's lips that suggest it was perfectly planned that way. "Yes. Journeyman. And as it happens, I did get assigned here." So she may have omitted that from their previous conversation. "I asked for a change. And as I believe I mentioned in the bar, this is about the biggest change that there could be from Ista." Not exactly a lie, but toeing the line. The mushroom is deposited on the plate along with those of its brethren that can be readily identified. "I walked the tables when I was twenty. So, about six turns now, a little less." Her manner is entirely casual as she takes a bite of her meal, chewing and swallowing before saying, "Yes. All three interest me." Simple. Straight-forward, right? But Jo's an insightful woman. There's clearly something too straight about it based on their interactions so far. "I'm not sure that's right. I tend to like all sorts." She smiles with a shrug. "But I will admit to being fascinated, here, now, with you." The smile transforms into something distinctly flirtatious. "You probably only want me to meet him dirty so I won't prefer him to you." Her tone is teasing again, but then turns more serious. "What was it like growing up in Keogh?" There's that 'maybe' again, making Jo smile. "Don' journeymen move around , not makin' any particular place home?" she asks, spearing one of the mushrooms and popping it into her mouth. "From what I've observed, anyway. Seems like a busy life." She's catching every nuance, every manner. Her own demeanor stays casual, as if there's hardly anything that she takes seriously. That smile hitches to something more akin to a smirk when Tayte mentions that she's fascinated with her, the bravado there in her response. "Of course. I'm fascinatin'," she's breezy in returning, heavily amused. "But I'm curious. What other sorts? If it's one of those lunch-date things, should I ask what yer lookin' for in a...I dunno?" She can fill it in. "Is that what they ask on these things? Or, we could talk about the crazy Weyr ya just moved yerself into. I'm sure Ista's not in so much politics like the Reaches, right?" But the next - on Tacuseth and dirty - it earns laughter and another mushroom going into her waiting mouth. "Is there any better time to meet a dragon?" she puts to her then, a brow lifting. "And anyway, ya'll change yer tune when he decides to dump water over yer head." The question, on Keogh, draws some silence from the bluerider, but she does end up saying with a light shrug, "What was it like? It's like bein' locked up somewhere. Had a father that trained guards all day and brothers that all were likely going to end up bein' guards themselves. Wasn' no 'playin' in the fields pullin' up flowers' and shit like that. Ya had a schedule. Ya followed that schedule. Yer life was already decided for ya, day by day." Taking up her beer, "Part of me still wonders if my brothers ever did become those shiny, stiff-backed guards that he was so set on makin'." "Depends on the journeyman in question. Some stay posted to a single place for many turns. Some specialize in something that can only be done in a particular place. Others get assigned a home-base of sorts and rove all over. I'm sure to be down to the Holds on occasion, certainly to lend extra hands at events and so on, but they've their own crafters posted, for the most part." Tayte explains, though the explanation seems a touch idle, since surely Jo has met enough journeymen to know the sorts that are out there and at least the fact that there are variations in how different crafts deal with their folk. Tayte has a grin for Jo's bravado in accepting her interest, offering, "Friend? Lover? I'm not sure how they term it when it's both at once. Lovend? Friver?" She suggests, mentally combining the two words. "Friendmate?" She tests, "You'd think with all the talk I've heard of people and their many, varied types of relationships as a bartender that there'd be a better term for it. Friends with benefits always seemed a little stilted a way to see it. I'd rather a lover and a friend in one than a friend with sexual benefits. Sounds far too technical for something far more fun." For all of that, though, she doesn't exactly answer the question as to her type. "Ista has its politics too, just not nearly so public or exciting to be sure. I'll tell you about them sometime when you're having trouble falling asleep." The beer is claimed to hide her impish smile. "What's your take on all of this leadership and Hold relations business anyway?" Since she brought it up. The smile is innocent, but Tayte, as ever, is a willing reservoir for gossip and opinion. For changing her tune about Tacuseth, there's a simple sweet smile as a red berry hovers just shy of her mouth, speared on the end of her fork, "Maybe I won't. Maybe I like getting wet." Then there's the chewing of the berry to attend to, and she's suddenly very engaged in that task, completed with a certain amount of seductive flare so as not to mistake the connotation of her words. The matter of Jo's upbringing and family does earn more seriousness though, "Doesn't sound like a lot of fun to me. Is that why you decided to come stand?" Then quieter, with greater care, "You're not in contact with your family?" Jo listens while she wolfs down the food on her plate, nodding here and there as Tayte explains the itinerary of a journeyman. On the next, "Friend, lover, sometimes - dependin' on the person - one can mean the other," she comments on that breezily, lifting a fork up with a mushroom speared at the end. I agree though. Friends with benefits. Kinda sounds like some contract ya didn' really sign, ya know? I mean, there's always benefits to a friend anyway, just, sometimes not the kind that involves gettin' naked. Ya didn' answer the question, though." Yep, she noticed, and that little smirk seems to try to beckon Tayte on. Turning to the talk of politics then, there's laughter on Ista's boring politics before a casual shrug is given on her take on the Reachian matters. "I think a large table and a good bottle of booze would solve a lot of the back'n forth about here," she states almost dryly. "I think the Weyrleaders are doin' the best with what they got, and are gettin' shit shoveled into their weyrs for it. But that's just me. I usually tend to carry unpopular opinions." It doesn't seem to bother her, either. The blonde's next though, on her blue and getting wet has looking her over and not hiding that fact. Then, meeting her gaze, "Be careful what ya wish for, darlin'," she says to that, as if she would have any say in making that scenario happen. Dark eyes linger on her lips even through more serious topics - that doesn't seem to stop her from such antics. "I'm not in contact with my family," she answers that second one first, dragging her gaze from Tayte's lips to her eyes. "Likely think I'm dead or somethin'.Gettin' away....sorta the reason I came to stand, yeah. It was mostly because it seemed like a good idea at the time. I pride myself on bein' impulsive." There's a smirk there for that, too. Caught. Directly questioned. Fine, fine, Tayte's face says with a little roll of her eyes, though her smile is amused. "What was the question exactly? What do I look for in one of those friend-lovers?" She reaches to run fingers over the braid that runs across the crown of her head and down one side, toying with it's end. "Truthfully, I've really only had one night stands and the friendships I've had have been fleeting things that crumble when the winds of life blow a little sideways." The blonde's shoulders rise and fall, but her expression has turned serious. "So I suppose I'm still working out what I'm interested in when it comes to something a little more lengthy. Lengthier than a single night or a handful of them. It doesn't take much to..." She trails off, not finding the right word. Another shrug dismisses it. "I guess the common threads I know for sure are that I like people with a sense of humor and a story to tell. But that comes in all kinds of packages. Men, women. Older or reasonably younger. Dark haired, light. You get the picture." The blonde leans forward to answer the next point, "If you ask vintners, they'd tell you that a good bottle of booze would fix a lot of the problems the world seems to have. Then again, there's a lot that they'd make worse." And as luck would have it, she's talking to a vintner, if not asking. The forward lean is joined by another forward gesture, the touch of her boot as it slides along Jo's and settles. "I am careful. I'm carefully wishing to find the appropriate person to get wet with when the time is right." Pause. "The time is not right when I'm outside and it's freezing." She clarifies, in case Tacuseth might try some stunt in the winter that might land her inconveniently in the infirmary. "So not in contact with your biological family. Have you adopted any non-blood family? Or do you simply not do the family thing at all?" Then, curiously, "Do you get on alright with children?" To Tayte's honest answer on the question, "Good answer," Jo genuinely gives, raising her beer to her as if in a toast. "Somethin' stable, right? I'd imagine, ya would for the sake of that little girl of yers." Taye leaning forward on the next and responding has her chuckling a bit, finishing off most of her beer then as she nudges her plate away. "I rather like a world of double-edged knives, don' you?" is all she says to booze both solving and exacerbating problems. Her own boot lifts, bumping the blonde's own right then, and when she answers on getting wet in the winter, "Why, don' like spendin' a seven in the infirmary, coughin' yer lungs out?" she teases on that score. "Tac's careful, mostly. It's me ya gotta worry about." Flash of teeth to that, then she turns to the topic of family last. She shakes her head on the first question, then shrugs a bit as she states, "Never thought about it, actually. Not like I've had a perfect, shinin' example of family to be wantin' one around. People I work for, they're family. My wing, for all the grief I give them, they're family. Beyond that, just haven' really thought about. Maybe someday, I'll go visit my brothers," the father is left out, "dependin', but they've got lives now and I'm sure they wouldn' want their wayward sister to suddenly show up and fuck up what they got." It's spoken briskly, evenly. "As for kids," and she rubs the bridge of her nose in the pause, "folks are either drawn to me or scared of me. I imagine most kids are in the second category. I'm the cautionary tale mothers tell their daughters not to end up like, darlin'. Doesn' exactly set me up as someone kids want to be around." Tayte's brows knit at the suggestion of something stable. "I can..." She starts and then has to trail off to really think. After a few moments of silence, she looks squarely at Jo, "No. I mean, if stability happens, then it happens. But I don't want to lie to my daughter. Life isn't stable. Things are not stable. Everything is one brand of temporary. I'd prefer something longer than a month because I'd like her not to grow up to be me, before. But stability?" She shrugs. "If it comes it comes." She flips a lock of hair over her ear before murmuring, "Whether I like double-edged knives or not, I live in a world of them. What's the use of me wasting the energy disliking them?" More evidence of her easy-going nature. Though she does have a definitive stance on the next, "Trust me, I make a much prettier nurse than patient." But who doesn't. "But I would hope that anything I might have to worry about you doing to me won't land me in the infirmary. Coughing or otherwise. You are careful, aren't you?" There's a teasing edge to her voice, but the question carries enough weight to be a serious one. "That's rather why I've not been to meet my birth parents," Tayte's alto is soft, a touch vulnerable, "So at least being someone's wayward daughter and sister is something we share." Her plate suddenly holds interest and she fills up her fork, "Does that mean you'd rather not meet Yvalia?" Listening silently to the first, "Wasn' much stable in my life," Jo admits soberly with a light shrug. "Maybe moreso now, since Impressin' to Tac. Before that, I kept on the move. I made sure things kept changin'. Tac keeps me grounded in that, at least." She's smirking on the matter of Tayte being a prettier nurse, remarking wryly, "I might ask for demonstration one day. I'm always gettin' involved in hazardous situations." Indeed so. "But other than that, I'm careful enough." Right. When she speaks about her parents, "They weren'...right, either?" Whatever that means, but the convict rider seems to think that is doesn't need any clarification. She studies the vintner more than her beer or her plate, even moreso while Tayte's not looking at her, so when that question involving her daughter comes, fingers lift in a placating gesture at the demeanor as she puts forth, "Now that don' mean I don' wanna meet yer daughter. Just tellin' ya how it's been. How it is. Do ya want me to meet her?" turning it back on her. "Well, I'll hope that you won't need it, but if you ever do, I'm not hard to find. And I offer a convenient and pleasurable payment plan for my nursing services." Tayte's answer rolls off her tongue as though every bit of it was well thought out and completely natural, only the smile that lights all the way through her eyes reveals her humor. There's an approving little nod for being careful, trusting in that answer enough for the moment to not dwell on it. "They weren't... what?" Though Jo may see no reason to explain, Tayte is confused and certainly a direct enough person to ask, "Sorry. I don't follow." She'll even admit with a smile showing she's willing to understand, if Jo is willing to explain. "If we're friends, and especially if we're more, yes, I'd like you to meet her." There's a pause, "Unless you'd rather not. Just..." Her expression turns serious, "I don't tend to talk about her much, but if you don't know her, you'll be missing a big piece of what makes me, me." "A 'pleasurable payment plan'?" Jo echoes that one with a comical brow lift that's bordering on suggestive. "I'm more than certain that yer flirtin' with me, journeyman vintner. With yer foot bumps and yer delectable promises of bedside manners." Leaning back more comfortably against the chair with her arms folding across her chest, "I'm almost startin' to think ya want me to have my reckless way with ya." She chuckles on that a bit more, then continues on with some clarification on their families and her last statement on them. "I mean, there's somethin' not right about them," she says. "Somethin'...dysfunctional. Like mine." She considers the next involving Tayte's daughter with her steady dark gaze lingering on the woman's face before she finally inclines her head and answers, "Didn' say I didn' want to, darlin. I wouldn' mind doin' so. I know nothin' 'bout kids, though," she has to admit a bit sheepishly. "She into dragons?" Tayte looks scandalized. It was a flawless transition. The look is so spot-on for a true reaction that were it not for the over-exaggerated vocalized gasp and flutter of hands to cross over her breast, even one so keen as Jo might be inclined to think she'd made a misstep. "Who, me? Flirt? Just because I kiss you in a bar and then ask you to lunch and talk about becoming lovers... That's no reason to assume I'm flirting or want you to have your way with me. Foot bumps not withstanding." Another one accents the words, so if there was no other indication of her speaking tongue in cheek, there's that. Then she breaks into a smile, "Besides, I believe I specifically asked if you were careful. Now you're going to be reckless? Which is it? Or a mix of the two? Will you be recklessly careful or carefully reckless?" Families have her nose wrinkling a little bit, "Well, the usual kind of dysfunctional, I suppose." That she knows of. "I'm a flight baby. Don't know anything about them other than their names and their dragons' names and colors. I just feel like I'll be -- an interruption to their lives if I come looking. Kind of like with your brothers and their lives going on without you. My parents never came looking for me, so what else can be assumed other than that they've gone on with their lives?" Without a second thought, her tone says, though there are no words to confirm that. For Yvalia and the sheepish smile, there's a softening in her face and a touch of tenderness that hadn't appeared before. "Children are just like adults, only they see the world more clearly and have fewer limits to what is possible. Just be yourself, and maybe watch which swear words you teach her so she doesn't get in trouble with the nannies. She does like dragons. She tells me frequently that she's going to be a dragonrider when she grows up. Usually with more than one dragon. She's also going to be a Harper and a Vintner, and a Healer, and once she was even a trundlebug. So..." She waves a little hand to indicate the whimsy of the life goals of toddlers. "Smart-ass," Jo declares right at the end of Tayte's scandalized words, highly amused. "I have a special little task for smart-asses." A task she's not telling. To being careful and reckless, she gives a smirk as she says, "Why can' I pick'n choose based on the day? A girl can' be careful all the time. Where's the adventure in that?" Beat. "Carefully reckless," she then chooses with ease. She does chuckle at her answer on her daughter, saying on swear words, "I'll see what I can do. I should probably start headin' out, though," she adds apologetically, looking towards the doorway as she finishes her beer. "I have sweepridin' before I'm off for other business. I enjoyed lunch," she gives genuinely with a crooked grin, reaching a hand across the table in trying to entice Tayte to give over her own to her. "It's rare I get courted by another woman. I liked it." For once Tayte's curiosity is tamed. Never ask a question you don't want to know the answer to; just what the task is may be a question she doesn't want the answer to yet, or expects to find out in due course should the courting and the smart-assery continue. Judging by the lack of coaxing it takes to get Tayte's hand slipping into Jo's, all signs from the blonde point toward more to come. "I might be able to see my way to being a little flexible on the matter," Of careful or reckless. Then there's a smile that's not like the others (she has so many!), its one that is simultaneously shy and pleased. "If you liked it, then I'll have to make a point of doing it again sometime." Pause, "If you'd want that." Though she doesn't say so specifically, her manner seems accepting to the fact that Jo needs to be moving along. That Tayte doesn't ask her is Jo's entertainment, and the look she gives on that suggests that she likely doesn't tell on purpose. Once the blonde gives her hand over, the bluerider lifts her hand to her lips as she leans forward and drops a gentlemanly kiss there. Yeah, she has her moments. Releasing her hand then, "Ya'd have to be, kickin' it with me," she says on flexibility. "I don' do normal, darlin'." Now she gets to her feet, running a hand through her hair on the last before giving her a lopsided grin and answering, "Yeah. I'd want that. I'll see ya around sometime, Tayte." There's an actual respectful nod as she steps away. The little smile for the kiss to her hand and the light blush of her cheeks says it all: charming, and appreciated. "Well, that should work out then. I've yet to find something in my life I could call normal and not be lying. I'm probably the only vintner on the planet that is a vintner as a back-up career." Her expression is bemused, but she has a point. "Maybe next time we can be a little more reckless, and a little less careful. Not that I didn't like this plenty, but... for a change of pace." The smile is a little shy, but warm, a fond expression for the brunette's departure. "Clear skies, Jo." |
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