Logs:Drinking Without Assistance
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| RL Date: 25 August, 2015 |
| Who: Everett, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier is drinking, Everett helps him. |
| Where: Snowasis |
| When: Day 20, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
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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. H'vier has been a pretty steady presence in the Snowasis for the last seven or so, now that he's graduated from generally drinking away his sorrows in the privacy of his own weyr. He's been sitting at the bar for over an hour now, nursing one drink after another in relative silence. There've been a few Iceberg riders who have come by just long enough for him to send them along again, but every time it's in a subdued sort of manner. He probably won't start any fights tonight. In the meantime, there have, of course, been other orders to fill, but Everett's managed to be very good at arriving just in time to top the wingleader up, only to vanish off again to make some middle-aged lady has her chardonnay, or whatever. When a lull does it, after all those refills, H'vier must seem positively familiar, so maybe that's why the bartender drifts back in his direction. "Need anything, there? Peanuts? Invasive questions from strangers?" "None of the above?" H'vier responds without looking up from the glass that the young man has been so good at keeping full of booze. Then, he changes his mind, "How about a shot of the strong shit." You know, the stuff that isn't at all palatable until you're already shit-faced and even then is pretty unpleasant. "You aiming to have somebody carry you home? I'd have to do a lot of push-ups before I could manage that, probably." There's a gentle sort of chiding in it. Notably, however, Everett says this while turning to pick a bottle off the shelf. The high-proof paint-stripper. He doesn't pour it particularly generously, but he does pour it. But then he puts the bottle back. At least it's not going to remain as a reminder. Everett, however, is apparently going to remain, at least until someone else needs enabling. "My riders can prop me up outside if necessary," says the bronzerider without missing a beat. Or making sure said riders agree to this claim. Once the glass is poured, H'vier reaches to pick it up without complaining about any lack of generosity. "Thanks," might even suggest that just the fact that it was poured is generous enough by his standards. He doesn't waste any time throwing it back, either. He gives the requisite hiss from the burn of the swallow, but seems otherwise quite pleased with it. Raised eyebrows, there. "Don't know exactly how many you've got, but looks to me like you've had almost a full wing's worth by here and you've managed to send them all on their way," Everett observes. He doesn't rush to provide another, certainly not unbidden, just leans against the bar and watches the bronzerider. "Reisoth will tell them if their assistance is required." For a drunk guy, at least, H'vier talks pretty well, even if he has to think about a word for a second or two before he says it on occasion. "But I think I know how much I can manage to drink without needing assistance." He's old, right? He's had a lot of experience. Evidently, Everett just really enjoys being contrary. It can't be good for his tips. "The thing about drinking is that it isn't very good for your judgment. Good for other things, sometimes. Relaxing. But not that. I just want to make sure you're all right. Wouldn't do to let something happen to our more illustrious patrons, you know? For the good of the Weyr, all that." "You either want me to keep giving you my money or you want me to leave and keep drinking in the comfort of my own weyr, kid." Those are the only options, according to an intoxicated H'vier. Granted, at least he could pass out in his weyr without anyone having to worry about moving him around if he went home. "How about you get me some klah, hm?" He really doesn't want to go home yet. A straightening of the shoulders. "When you put it that way," Everett responds, "I will admit that I prefer the marks. Anyway, they say that just being out in the world can sometimes... help. Human beings weren't meant to shut ourselves away." He's an extrovert, of course; introverts' opinions might differ on this score. "Klah, I can manage. I'm sure by now somebody's got to have a pot on. Faranth forbid anybody stop drinking and go to bed, right?" A smile for that, but it's a bit sheepish, then he sets about filling this order. H'vier offers a brief, tired smile to the younger man. "There're probably only a handful of people on all of Pern who'd admit that I might be human." It's uncharacteristically self-deprecating. But Everett doesn't know him well enough to realize that, does he? So it's all good. The bronzerider leans heavily against one hand when the bartender goes to fetch him klah, eyes closing and everything. "You don't look like a watchwher or anything," says Everett when he returns with the mug. No cream or sugar, either a guess or just because they weren't explicitly requested. "Unless everybody's suddenly gone mad or blind, I think the statistics have to be at least a little better than that." The smile isn't too pushy or anything. Mildly encouraging, at best. "Anyway, you haven't met everybody in the world yet." "You're kind of annoying," H'vier tells Everett, in case no one else has told him that recently. He pulls his klah closer to him, lifts it up to take a drink, then must only notice that the boy is still near when he sets his mug back down. "Go. Annoy someone else." He says it as his hand moves down, fishing for marks that he ends up setting on the counter just beyond his mug. It's a generous tip. Plenty of reasons to leave H'vier to his own devices until he ultimately, eventually, staggers himself out to the bowl. |
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Comments
Squishy (23:18, 25 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Everett is kind of adorable.
Jo (09:33, 26 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Yep, that's my Everett. He WAS adorable in this scene though!
Everett (10:56, 26 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Hey, whatever works to get the tips.
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