Logs:Fidelity is a Cruel Mistress
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| RL Date: 5 September, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, Everett, Minara |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Misery loves company. And booze. |
| Where: HRW: Snowasis |
| When: Day 24, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The air is cool and damp, with the heavy feeling of a coming storm. |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions |
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| Early yet in the evening, possibly still what most people think of as the dinner hour, and for the sake of simplicity, some point before the 25th--which is to say, a perfectly ordinary early autumn evening following a perfectly ordinary morning. Everett is working. Or, well, he's at work, behind the bar. Actually working? Not so much. There will be more of a rush later, but for right now he's engaged in a game of solitaire. It helps to keep him from paying overly much attention to the only two people at the bar, a couple who are presently engaged in being very couple-y over drinks after work. There's a couple of small groups at tables, that sort of thing, but no orders to interfere with his cards at present. Until Minara heads in, at least. There is a brief look for the couple, and another for the others already at the Snowasis this evening, but it's directly toward the card-playing bartender that she heads, claiming the barstool directly across the counter from him. She folds her ink-stained hands and rests her elbows and forearms along the edge, leaning in to watch the game of solitaire in progress, then asks, "Mind if I interrupt you for a moment?" Her mouth forms a wide but shallow smile, eyes twinkling as she switches from folding her hands to resting her chin on one as she nudges the remaining deck of cards just so. One card in hand, Everett is tapping the corner of it on the bar thoughtfully, maybe not actually paying attention at all until he's pulled out of this reverie. "What? Oh, sure, no, sorry, just been trying to avoid being all third-wheely." A jerk of the head indicates the other pair, but he sets the card face-up next to the draw pile and then straightens, resting both hands on the bar. "Kind of wish they'd taken a table," a little quieter, almost confidential. Then, of course, back to habit: "What can I get you?" "Maybe they just got... you know. Caught up in the act?" Minara offers, though she doesn't sound too convinced as she gives the couple a sidelong glance. When she turns back to Everett, there is a moment when she stares just a second too long, as if on the verge of saying something. Whatever that something is, it's brushed away with a tiny shake of her head as she smiles again. "Whisky, please. Nothing fancy." The bottle is retrieved--nothing fancy, which means bottom shelf, right?--and Everett pours it into a clean glass, then pushes it across the bar to the young woman. The other pair doesn't get so much as another look from him, at this point. "Ah, well, whatever makes them happy, you know? We get that sort of thing all the time. It's sweet. Older couple the other day came in looking at each other with stars in their eyes, must have been nearly sixty. If I can have my little part in it, well, why not. But it's a supporting role. Nobody wants to remember the bartender after a date." Minara laughs softly as she gives Everett a nod, silently thanking him for the drink. "You can't seriously tell me you're only ever the supporting role," she says dryly as she goes back to resting her forearms along the edge of the bar, both hands now wrapped around the glass. "In a Hold, maybe. But here?" She's not at all trying to hide the fact she's just teasing him, and the way her grin goes deeply crooked toward the end just seals it. She lifts the glass toward him with a murmured, "Thanks," then takes a sip. "My name's Min, by the way. Or Minara. I work with the clerks in the Stores." Shoulders straighten. "On other people's dates, sure. On my own, of course not." Everett's pride obviously requires making this clarification, but the hand over his heart is probably putting a little bit too much drama into it. "Min-or-Minara. Nice to meet you. Everett. Stores. That sounds..." Exciting? Can he pull that off? "Like something that would require you to be very organized." There, he's managed to at least turn it back around to something like a compliment. Minara laughs during the pause after "sounds", probably guessing at the reason. In answer, she shrugs, leaning back enough that she can sit up a little more properly. "It's kind of dull, most of the time, unless there's a new tithe coming in. But someone has to do it, right?" She takes another sip, then gestures with the glass toward him. "Like you, Everett. Not everyone can do your job, so it's a good thing you can." "Someone does indeed," Everett agrees. A couple of riders come in, which requires a bit of a nod in their direction, orders taken, glasses, beer. It doesn't entirely divert his attention from the conversation at hand, though. "I'm sure everybody's grateful that I'm here," with gets a bit of a laugh out of the new customers, but not enough of one to keep them from going and finding a table. "But I suspect there are more items of vital importance in stores than there are behind the bar, however some of my patrons might think otherwise. Anyway, do you like the work? That's the important thing, I think. I like what I do." "Are you kidding?" Min counters, looking incredulous. "More vital than liquor?" She shakes her head slowly before taking a deeper drink of whisky. "Not on a day like today. People are just acting crazy." She pauses, glass nearly raised again before she puts it back down. "Well, that's not the right word. But... you know." She takes a drink again, frowning, distracted. "You asked... oh! Yes. I enjoy my work." Down goes the rest of the whisky, after which she gestures with the glass, grinning as she silently asks for one more. The bottle hasn't gone so far that Everett can't get it back open and splash a little more of it into her glass. "I've not been here so long that I won't say that everybody seems a bit crazy here at the best of times. Still getting used to it, I guess." He gives the bottle in his hand a look, then gets a second glass to do the same for himself. One of the perks of the job. Minara certainly perks right up when Everett pours some whisky into a second glass. "That's true, I suppose," she says, agreeing to the first part, though her smile breaks into another grin after half a second. "But I prefer the kind of crazy here to some of the other kinds I've seen. The crazy here seems to make sense, somehow. There's a rhyme and reason to it." She lifts her glass in toast, then takes a sip before leaning her elbows on the bar. "You're new here, then? I would have said that's why you don't look familiar to me, but the truth is, I don't often find myself in need of a bartender." "People here are a relaxed sort of mad, not an uptight one. It's an important distinction." Everett raises his glass in return, sips from it, then closes up the bottle to set it back where it belongs. "New enough to still have people asking if I'm new, so I suppose so. Beginning of summer. Which means I've been spoiled, I'm sure. Now the lovely weather will turn rotten and I'm sure people are less pleasant when everyone's been cooped up most of a winter, but that's true in Crom, too." Minara laughs softly, nodding a couple times. "There is that. It seems to go in cycles. When winter's still new, there enough of those who enjoy it. The longer it wears on, though, the grouchier folks get. If you're lucky, you'll make enough friends of riders, and they'll spirit you away to fun destinations one in a while." Another sip, then the inevitable question, asked with a leading tone, "Crom, huh?" "Crom." Everett, the bartender, in the middle of a still-relatively-quiet bar, is apparently regaling yet another patron with his life story, or selected exerpts from it. There's a couple who are clearly Together down towards the other end of the bar, and he's giving them a wide berth, though occasionally glancing down to see if they need fresh drinks. A few people at tables. Otherwise, slow, so far, but it always is when folks are just finishing dinner. "I didn't fancy myself a miner. Don't think it'd suit me, you know? And bars in those parts... well, people are more uptight, like I said. Anyway, I do like it here. Been working on cultivating some friends with dragons for just that reason. Well, not just that reason, obviously, but it helps." Minara is seated at the bar directly across from the bartender, both of them having similar drinks, it would appear. Same colour, anyway. "Now that I can believe," she drawls, wrapping her fingers more firmly around her glass, trying to warm it probably. "The Hold I was from, I never even would have been allowed in a place like this. By my parents or the bartender. Not 'ladylike', or something like that. But what's not ladylike about having a good time?" She takes a sip and sets down the glass. "I always figured it was just an excuse. Removing temptation, or something like that." The stomping from ledge outside probably isn't audible, at least until Drex comes into the relatively quiet Snowasis. He's frowning, for a moment, barely looking around before he makes a beeline for the bar, slouching onto the stool next to Minara as he mutters under his breath, "Fuckin' bronzeriders. Think their dollfin dicks don't need no knottin'," he seems set into a sulk, arms folding on the bartop. "Beer," he interrupts, all rude-like, recognition flickering as he spots Everett, "And put it on Fari's tab. Owes me." He glances, sidelong, brow furrowing as he regards Minara. "Owes you? Not sure I can take your word on that as currency." But apparently Everett is confident enough about some method of payment worked out that he's willing to pour, even if he holds the glass hostage for the moment. To Minara, without too much of a pause, he adds, "Can't go impairing your judgment, after all, giving you a couple hours to realize that maybe the be-all and end-all isn't being delivered untouched to your future husband." There's recognition on Minara's expression as she regards Drex right back, but she quickly turns back to Everett, responding with a snort of laughter. "Yes, that must be it. Looking out for my own good. Why didn't I think of that?" She grins before knocking back the last of her whisky. "Well, joke's on them, I guess." "Come hunt me down if she refuses to pay it. She won't," Drex says vehemently, mollified enough it seems by the fact that Everett is pouring, though his momentary withholding of said beer earns a distinct scowl. "C'mon, man. Some bronzerider is in with my girl, you going to fuckin' quibble over beer?" He's eyeing Minara's glass, and leans closer to examine it a moment before he adds, "Give me some of that, too. In fact, a round for all of us, on Fari." Slight furrow of brow. The mental calculations are quick, but they aren't instant. Decisions to be made here, right? "That," he finally settles on, "is complete and utter bullshit." He pushes over the pint glass that's already been poured, goes for a shorter one for the liquor. And freshens up the two other glasses in proximity while he's at it. No looking gift horses in the mouth, here. "This is the same girl? You've had a round of shit luck." He'll raise his own glass to this, though he makes a face to go with it. What's the opposite of a toast? He's caught Minara's look, though. "You two acquainted?" "Seems like you're the one who owes her," Minara says to Drex, her tone dry. "I mean, she puts up with you most of the time, right? Do you ever pay her back for that?" She's teasing, and there's enough of that in her tone, but maybe the surly is just rubbing off on her. She waves a hand a moment later, though, and certainly doesn't turn down the offer of another whisky. "Anyway, she's only your girl as much as she wants to be. These implications that the men own the women somehow, or their various goods, has kind of turned my mood a little bit. Faranth." In case that wasn't answer enough to Everett's question, she turns back to the bartender and says, "Sort of. Like I said, I don't get out much. And thanks for the drink." Which she'll down half of right now. It gets easier with each refill, see. "No shit," Drex replies, vehemently, straightening; there's something to be said for moral support, after all. He gulps down fully half the glass of beer, letting out a generous burp, before he pushes it aside to pick up the whisky. "Aint that simple," he scowls towards Minara, tossing back the whisky, before exhaling sharply. "Aye, she puts up with my shit. But I put up with hers too. Aint decked any holders lately. She's the one that lied to get me back here. Maybe you're right; she aint mine. She's the Weyrs." "You don't have to somehow own a woman to have a problem with her doing that kind of thing behind your back." Everett might prefer the Weyr's progressive norms, but evidently it will take more than a few months for him to buy into them wholly. He takes his leave for a moment to go freshen up some other drinks, but it's not so far as to not be able to keep track of the conversation. "Any chance, I don't know, just a misunderstanding? Imagine, you know, girl like that, she's got to have visitors about official business now and then, right? Doesn't necessarily mean, you know." Minara opens her mouth, about to speak, but she just closes it again as she frowns at Drex. For a second, it looks like she might apologize, but instead she asks, "So why do you stay with her?" She watches Everett's progress as he tends to his job, but most of her more obvious attention is on her glass at this point. Drex gives Everett a knowing, grateful nod. You get it, bro. He switches back to the beer, taking a gulp, though this time no burp follows it. "Been staying with her since I got back. And all of a sudden, she's been like a feline on heat. Told me she didn't want me there and threw things at me. Aint a misunderstanding." He gestures at the whisky glasses, as if indicating Everett to fill them up again. Minara's question earns a studied frown, and a reluctant admission, "Because I love the stupid, idiotic girl." There's only a moment's pause, but Everett's been making relatively swift work on his, and apparently right now this is the sort of thing that just seems like a good plan. Impaired judgment, happens to everybody sometimes. "Rough. Women, I mean--I don't know." Present company does kind of limit just how commisserating he can be about this, doesn't it? Ah, well. Drink, instead. Easier. "Never run into a goldrider before the flight. Greenriders I've seen, though. If she's not herself, that's really what it is, isn't it? Heat. Basically. Still. Guess that's the one thing you don't worry about, back in the Holds." "Fair enough," Minara murmurs as she finishes off the first round on Farideh. When another is indicated, Min wrinkles her nose slightly, considering, but too far into her drinks too quickly to really say no. At least it's put a curb on the women's lib stance. "True," she adds, after Everett's mention of the Holds. Then she frowns over at Drex. "Can't help but wonder why she doesn't want you, though. If it's just some sort of heat. Maybe she needs the dragon there, too." "Aye," right about when Drex is agreeing with this whole women sentiment, he seems to remember there's one right there. Awkwardly, to Minara, "Present company accepted. You always seemed... I dunno. Had my back. Aint forgotten." And he's gulping another mouthful of beer, which could be taken as a toast but is likely just because he wants it. Minara's latter words earn a blank, uncomprehending look from the sailor. "Needs the dragon to do what?" Clearly, his mind is going to unpleasant places right now, if the deepening scowl of his expression is any indication. "I wouldn't know anything about the dragon thing," is about as diplomatic as Everett can stay about this particular notion. Not touching it with a ten-foot pole, in other words. "You know, maybe it's just time to relax, you know? See... how things are after. I don't know. Anyway, you have my sympathies. Let me know if you need anything else?" Because Everett, unfortunately, is at work, and business is starting to pick up, and that means he's got to go take another order, here. Minara gives Drex a confused look, unable to quite understand why he's scowling at her, until her own mind wanders toward something that makes her eyes go wide. "Well, shells, I didn't mean that!" What? "That's just... just..." Oh hey, more whisky. She frowns at it and shifts in her chair, then touches her fingers to her lips in a not-so-subtle sobriety test. "Shards," she mutters darkly. And rather than make smart choices, she maims her own argument from earlier and downs that last bit of whisky in one go, then gets to her feet, keeping an awfully tight grip on the edge of the bar. "I'll, uh... catch up with you guys later," she murmurs to the two, not looking at either of them. She manages not to make a fool of herself on her way into the fresh air, but it's a near thing. Drex's shrug seems to indicate he's pretty much on the same page as Everett when it comes to knowledge of dragon intimacies. "Just keep 'em comin', man." His gesture seems to indicate the whisky. His face clears of the scowl when Minara hastily corrects herself, falling into uncertainty instead. He doesn't seem too bothered by being abandoned -- not as long as his glass remains relatively full. He'll probably be here until closing time, before staggering to the nearest bed-equivalent somewhere in the inner caverns. |
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