Logs:Definitions of Fun
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| RL Date: 11 July, 2015 |
| Who: Hattie, H'vier |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hattie seems indulgent of H'vier, and his testing the waters, until things get pushed too far. |
| Where: The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 3, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions, Gethin/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions |
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| The... interesting state in which Fort's caverns are operating at the moment has amounted to what is, at this hour, on this afternoon, an odd quiet for the Fountain. Everything looks to be in order, in that everything seems clean and tidy, even the usual bar regulars propped at their end of the bar, but the quiet might be a little bit eerie. Whether or not this is owing to the presence of one of the Weyr's goldriders, who sits at the edge of one of the booths towards the back of caverns, said goldrider seems watchful regardless. A bowl of something sweet sits in-front of Hattie, who idly twirls a spoon as she observes the bar traffic. H'vier isn't exactly what one might consider a regular of Fort. Or even of the Fountain. But the Reachian bronzerider is increasingly the former and perhaps working on the latter. Given the time of day, the Wingleader is presumably free of his own duties while Lilah most likely has no time to spare him during hers. That leaves him roaming, making his way into the Fountain to look for... whatever he's looking for. It seems to be a drink from the bar, but he gets distracted along the way by something that draws his gaze toward Hattie and so he pauses to looking at her with a measure of consideration. Hattie's attention cannot be too closely pinned on any one thing, for it takes a few moments for her dark gaze to target and focus in on H'vier, his consideration returned in kind, only hers might seem that much more distant. She doesn't cease to watch him as she puts the spoon back in the bowl and scoops up a mouthful of something that looks too sickly to be entirely pleasant, and yet she merrily consumes it, if slowly. There are no words, not yet - she only observes. He watches her, glances over at the bar, then instead of going to see about a drink, he starts to make his way closer to the goldrider's booth. Maybe H'vier figures her lingering gaze is an invitation for his company. Maybe he thinks she's hitting on him. Whatever the case, he says, "Afternoon, weyrwoman," as soon as he's near enough that it's an appropriate thing to say. "You look like you're... enjoying yourself." "Yes, it's simply thrilling to be in a bar and unable to drink, but I'll make of it what I can," Hattie drawls in response, just as she sets the spoon back down in the bowl. "Am I to assume that you're the latest in the collection, or is the lure of the alcohol being potentially left unattended too much to resist?" Another mouthful, though she has the manners not to speak around the caramel-drenched dessert. "H'vier." "Collection?" H'vier repeats that word because he's not entirely sure what it means. "The lure of unattended alcohol is a tempting one, I'll admit, but I have no intention of stealing from Fort. I'd reimburse you, if nothing else." He's a decent guy like that. "Do you need someone to get you a drink?" He'd be happy to do it, evidently, though his gaze drops briefly in the direction of her abdomen while he continues to stand near the booth. Hattie just smirks the tiniest bit, then purses her lips like she might elaborate, explain and give him an answer, but ultimately doesn't. "I'll settle for your not being here to make off with a couple of crates of the Vintner Hall's finest," she says instead. "You're welcome to take a seat, if you like," accompanies a nod to the bench across from her, "and though I would like a drink, I think the baby would disagree. As nice as it might be to get them acquainted with a decent whiskey, I'll leave that for a couple of decades." She doesn't answer and H'vier doesn't press. He does take a seat, however, studying the woman across from him as he says, "Vintner's finest and I have an unfortunate history. And I think you might be fooling yourself if you think you've got a couple of decades. A decade and a half at most, I'd imagine. I was younger than that when I had my first whiskey. I hated it. But it didn't keep me from drinking it. A mild white shouldn't be too disagreeable, though?" "Do I ask after the history, or is it history better buried?" It sounds like a genuine question, nothing of that smirk in her voice. "To be honest, if my eldest is half-cut and singing off-key under a table somewhere at the Starsmith Hall, I'd rather not know for the time being. There are some things a mother doesn't really want to think about." Though, from the brief twist of Hattie's lips, she's plainly thinking about it now. "Sadly, I think any form of alcohol is apt to summon my healer as if from Between. I won't feel dreadfully affronted if you want to drink. There's probably enough sweetener here to send me insensible as it is." "It can't be buried, unfortunately. Though I'd like to sometimes. The mother of my favorite children is a vintner. She has them living there now. With another man." That drink is probably sounding even better to H'vier now. He looks toward the bar, but makes no move to suggest he'll actually try to get one. "I think the Halls are a bit more strict than Ista's roads, so you've got that going for you. I've got to admit that I like the picture of you half-cut and singing off-key under a table quite a lot, though." Hattie's brow quirks a little at 'favourite', though it makes her, "I'm sorry," no less sincere. "I know family changes can be... difficult." She nudges the contents of the bowl around a tiny bit before stealing another bite, her smile for his last remark more tolerant than flirtatious. "In those rare instances, I'm usually on the table," she allows, dry-voiced. "Better vantage point. Better acoustics. Probably getting a little too old now for it to be considered acceptable or a charming mistake, however." "I'm not allowed to see the other one," is explained offhandedly as if that explains everything. "It was hard for them to move away. I see them sometimes. But I have Lilah now." There's some implication that perhaps the younger goldrider will give H'vier more children. Maybe those will be his new favorites. "You're not doing much to convince me that I shouldn't see you wasted at some point. You're never too old for that. For fun. I've heard that you're not very good at fun, Hattie. You should do it with me sometime." There's something distinctly less approving for that news of not being allowed, though it's difficult to tell whether it's for H'vier or the person setting down that rule; either way, she must deem it safer not to comment. "She's good with children," is what she settles for, and despite the slight stress on that last word, it appears to be nothing more than an honest response. "When I Impressed a queen, I sacrificed the right to prioritise fun." Not that she sounds regretful. "And any fun in that vein is off the cards for me for at least another three months." "Bullshit," H'vier calls on that claim, entirely unapologetic. "Impressing a queen is a responsibility, sure. I'll allow that. But you're the only one who can sacrifice your right to prioritize fun. Don't blame Elaruth for that." The bronzerider disapproves. Not enough to not look at her chest for several moments, but he disapproves all the same. "How does that old man of yours feel about that? Can he still get it working outside of flights?" That's almost certainly a rhetorical question. H'vier probably doesn't actually want to know. "I don't blame Elaruth for anything," Hattie states, matter of fact. "It is what it is. Any knot I got would've been prioritised over anything else. I know me well enough. The one Impression brought me was simply more work and more high profile." It's that last enquiry that gets her moving, as initially awkward as it is for her to slip from the booth. "Forgive me, but I thought your idea of fun was fixated around drink rather than 'it', as you so colourfully call it. My sex life is none of your concern, but suffice it to say that, even if I was going without, it wouldn't need you." She pauses long enough to look H'vier up and down. "Shame. Your reputation wasn't preceding you for a few minutes there." H'vier is quick to his feet as Hattie rises from the booth, even offering her his assistance if she accepts it, backing off it she doesn't. "I have a lot of definitions of fun, gorgeous. You can't blame me for testing the waters. No matter how cold everyone says they are." Or maybe that's part of the appeal? "Rest assured that your Weyrwoman is capable of having fun regardless of the weight of her knot. And I have every intention of helping her continue to have it." Because he's a nice guy like that. He even smiles at Hattie. She's not quite quick enough to clearly reject his offer, but as soon as is polite she claims her own space once again. "Don't worry. She seems to have a thing for 'Reachian bronzeriders, and you've been mentioned in connection with enough goldriders to make your ambitions quite clear. I'm sure you're a well-suited pair. If you can call it that." Hattie gives a little shake of her head. "If you ever have another momentary lapse and find yourself able to engage in conversation without letting your male instincts take over, it wouldn't be half-bad to see you again," she remarks, the shrug of one shoulder conveying her doubts. She doesn't wait around or look back; she just... leaves. |
Comments
Aleudre (19:26, 13 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
"even if I was going without, it wouldn't need you." - ZING!
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