Logs:Greenrider's Guilt
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| RL Date: 4 March, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Oliwer |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After parting ways with Rhey, G'laer's not feeling himself so he invites a healer by. |
| Where: Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 2, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Rh'mis/Mentions, Rone/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Forward-dated. |
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| Bookworm's Paradise Weyr, High Reaches Weyr In clear weather, sun dapples the floor of the southward-facing weyr and reflects prisms of light from the fine glass that fronts wall after wall of neatly carved bookshelves. Empty now, but for a few volumes tucked up on a shelf, clearly this weyr is a bookworm's delight, all ready to welcome someone's collection of scrolls and finely bound volumes. The living space here has been sacrificed somewhat, cozy rather than spacious. There's enough room for a table and chairs in front of a hearth overhung with a precious maple-stained skybroom mantle, but the sleeping area is another nook carved into the wall, neatly laid with a comfortable double mattress. The linens are presumably stored in the lovely trunk set just to the side of the nook, a match in stain and wood-type to the mantle. Niches for glows are well-spaced along the tops of every shelf, the glow-holders made of interlacing strips of copper set with mica to give the light a mellow cast. All in all the space invites one to come in, curl up with a favorite drink and a book to read.
The greenrider is waiting inside as usual, when the elevator dragon arrives, settled at the small table by the hearth, a glass that's something stronger than a cup of tea sitting before him, an empty glass at the place across from him and the bottle between. "Oliwer," is his relatively even and familiar greeting, but he doesn't bother to rise. "Join me," he invites instead, gesturing. There's a brief in and out pop from the chubby little blue that follows Oliwer around occasionally. He doesn't have a note but he makes sure he gets some sort of attention before he's gone again. It, apparently, means that Oliwer got the message. It's a lot more obvious when he does arrive after dinner, with the bag he always brings with him for G'laer's appointments. The journeyman only hesitates for a moment before settling into the seat across from the greenrider. "Are you feeling any better?" he asks as he sets his bag down by his legs. The chubby blue's attention comes in the form of a piece of jerky in reward for appearing. Expecting any more from G'laer would probably qualify as crazy. But, hey, food. So. "Not really," is the greenrider's answer now. "I feel like I've been drinking non-stop for three days and just now came up for air." Oh, proddiness. He frowns. "I don't even know if it's normal." Which must be why he wrote the note to the healer, right? "Drink?" He offers as his hand moves to the bottle to top off his own glass. Fortunately the blue isn't here now. Maybe Oliwer made sure to feed him into a stupor before coming over. No wonder he's chubby! "That does sound... unpleasant." Oliwer glances at the bottle but he looks uncertain. And perhaps slightly concerned. "Is this meant to be an official visit, G'laer?" Apparently the answer to that will affect his own answer, one way or another. "Not really." G'laer answers with a little bit of a sigh, looking at his waiting drink. "I just figured that you've talked to your share of riders in your time here and would know better than most. It might just because of who caught. And the fact that his rider is--" The greenrider winces and then closes his eyes. "He's just a kid." Which does not make G'laer even a little bit happy, evidently. He must have had at least a drink or two already himself because he's been candid before, but this is rather a different level of candid. Oliwer isn't actually one to drink very often. But there must be something about the situation that makes him lift the glass to let G'laer fill it. "I can't claim to be any expert on dragonriders. Not in that regard, anyway. I don't have the proper, uh, context, I suppose." He's not sure that's the right word but he'll let it stand. "But I can tell you that it's natural to have... feelings. After the fact." He's definitely no mindhealer, that's for sure. The bottle tips until the mouth finds the rim of Oliwer's uplifted glass and it's filled to a moderate degree, like G'laer's, and then the bottle is set back on the table so the greenrider can pick up his glass. "That's not how it was supposed to go down," There's frustration there, not as hidden as it might otherwise be. "It's the first time I've gotten laid in over two turns, maybe more. It was supposed to be someone I wouldn't feel guilty about getting off with so I could be on my way. It's not like I need much in that way," Sex, "But two turns was getting-- well." Despite everything else he's said, it's now that his cheeks show a trace of blush. "I don't feel good about it. And the kid hates me, understandably, so that makes it worse because I can't even really apologize to him and have it mean anything." The drink is downed in short order. Too fast, probably for what it should have been. Oliwer has been living at the Weyr for awhile now. But he's still a holder at heart. Fortunately professionalism helps him not look that uncomfortable about this particular topic. One good thing about being a healer! He looks at his glass for a long few moments before actually taking a drink. "You shouldn't feel guilty, G'laer. It wasn't your fault. And this... kid. He shouldn't hate you, certainly, but." There's not much he can do from that angle right now. "And you shouldn't have to apologize for anything. It's just part of being a dragonrider. Your dragons mate," he makes a circular gesture that fills in for the 'you have sex' part so he doesn't have to say it so directly, "And then you move on." He doesn't ask a lot of questions about the other rider since he's not here for him. "Well, no." G'laer's objection is raised as he reaches for the bottle to refill the glass. "The kid has every right to hate me." He's frowning as he lifts the glass again. "I took bounties. As side-work." In the guard. "This kid... he had a bounty on him back when Rone was alive and making his bid for Nabol. The bounty wasn't worth doing on its own, but there were a few others and most of them were rumored to have taken shelter at the Weyr. I was hunting him. Before we both Impressed. And he knew it. He's got a right to hate me." He frowns, "Especially since it turns out that the claims made on the bounty were false, or at least, not all true." He taps the glass on the table once and then raises it, this time having the self-restraint to sip instead of gulp. Then G'laer is rising and moving the few paces to the hearth, reaching one hand up to lean his weight against the mantel and stare at the flames. His expression is unsettled, which for G'laer, probably means this is affecting him deeply. "Oh." That's all Oliwer can really say at first. Clearly he assumed it was all flight-related hate, nothing with any solid basis. But as there is, particularly in an area he's even less familiar with than flights (which, granted, isn't a very high bar), the journeyman seems uncertain how to proceed. "But... you aren't hunting him now, correct?" Oliwer stays where he's sitting, watching the greenrider with a concerned expression on his face. It's not permanent. Really. Just like G'laer doesn't look permanently serious. "No. Haven't been since we Impressed. It does sort of change everything." The man lets a sigh slip and he pushes off from the mantle, turning instead to lean his back against the wall on one side of the hearth, bowing his body and he takes another sip of his drink. "I know that it's the dragons. My mind knows that. But it still feels wrong to have gotten my rocks off with that kid." Nevermind that the kid in question is seventeen. He shakes his head and then the rest of the drink is swallowed. The glass in Oliwer's hand doesn't make it to his mouth very often but he takes a sip before he notes, "And feeling that way only proves that you're a decent man, G'laer." He does have to wonder, and now seems as good a time as any to ask, "Would you feel any better if it had been a girl? If it's not only your history with this particular boy that's bothering you." "Not if the girl were seventeen." G'laer answers, pushing away from the wall. "If he'd been twenty, or more, it wouldn't be so bad. But he's just a kid." There's hesitation there for a moment and then the greenrider is moving to the table to stand beside it now, placing down his glass and reaching for the refill bottle. "I've been with men before. A long time ago, but." But it still counts. "Not that--" He starts, and then there's a swallow and the blush in his cheeks returns, "I'm not usually on the receiving end." Not that Oliwer probably needed to know that. It means G'laer's reaching for his drink again. "Kid he may be, he's still a dragonrider with a sexually mature dragon. Same as you. If it weren't you, it would have been someone else." And this is so much more easy to focus on than the rest of what G'laer says. But Oliwer is too polite to just ignore it. Not so polite that there isn't an undertone of red in his skin. "It's... it's good that this wasn't your first, at least. It wasn't, was it? I suppose after so long, it might still be uncomfortable. Everything's... well?" There are probably less awkward ways he could ask that but those are for less awkward moments. Blue eyes find Oliwer's face and linger. It's his first words that G'laer is considering so long in silence. But once he's had a chance to mull them over, there's slowly first a nod and then a long exhale that has some of the obvious tension in the dragonrider's frame leaving it. "It wasn't my first. But nothing's broken." Even if his expression does agree with 'uncomfortable' as an assessment. "It didn't really scratch the itch the way I hoped it would," he admits after a moment, and this seems to be the bigger conundrum now that his conscience has had some soothing. "No?" asks Oliwer before he can think better of it. He does keep himself from asking what would, anyway, but there are certain curiosities the journeyman can't entirely hide. Dragonriders are rather fascinating, after all. He takes another sip from his glass before setting it aside and leaning forward to pick up his bag. Then he's rising to his feet and setting it on the table, opening it up as he asks, "Were you thinking a massage might help?" A shake of G'laer's head answers the first. Then he sets down his glass, looking at it thoughtfully. "Can't hurt. They do relax me." Then his eyes flick to the healer, "Would you mind? I didn't really mean for you to come here to work tonight." The greenrider's already reaching to pull his shirt off, so if Oliwer is going to say 'no,' he'd better say it quickly. Oliwer doesn't say no. He doesn't say anything for a handful of moments, glancing at the greenrider and getting slightly distracted by the shirt coming off. "It's... no trouble," he says, looking back into his bag, though he doesn't go rooting around in it right away, clearly thinking about something. They might not be friends in the sense that they spend time together outside of G'laer's appointments. But after so many months, Oliwer surely has some personal interest in the greenrider's wellbeing. It's what subtle things have been noticed in those many months that gives G'laer enough to go on to do what he does next (the alcohol probably also plays its part). Leaving his shirt on the table, the greenrider turns to move to the bed where he's received many a massage since getting his weyr. Only this time when he gets to the edge of the bed, he drops trou before stretching out on his stomach, leaving the next move in Oliwer's hands. There's no looking back from G'laer, at least not yet. The healer isn't exactly what most people would mistake for an alpha male. He's left staring a little dumbly after the greenrider and the bare parts of him that he's not yet seen. "I, uh..." he begins, but doesn't seem to know how to finish the thought. Or maybe just what the thought was to begin with. "Right," is said a bit more quietly, though probably not inaudible to the other man. And then Oliwer is making his way over with the oil to take a familiar seat at G'laer's hip. G'laer's reaction isn't visible, with his face against the pillow. But the fact that Oliwer's weight has joined his on the bed despite his unfamiliar wardrobe is, perhaps, some measure of confirmation. "Oh," as though the thought just popped into G'laer's head (and maybe it did), "My drink." Without flinching for his nudity, the greenrider is pushing up onto his knees and then sliding past Oliwer on the edge of the bed, and walking to the table. The drink is downed before G'laer is turning to walk back over, shameless. Oliwer might be somewhat more progressive than many holdbred men. And it's not like he's never been in a communal bathing situation. But for some reason G'laer's nudity makes the healer close his eyes. They don't stay closed, granted. He can't not look at least a little bit. But he's not doing it very directly, which doesn't mean he's not being obvious. "You, uh. You seem to be feeling... well." "Mm," G'laer's noncommittal sound doesn't really help move the conversation along as he moves to sit beside the healer, not reassuming his previous position. "Some people drink to relax." Which isn't to say he does, but it's something to say about feeling... well. The move of one of his hands to Oliwer's knee isn't tentative, but it is testing. "There are other ways to relax, too," is added then, and now G'laer is looking at the other man's face, studying it and ready to read the reactions there. He's a smart man. Or he likes to think so, anyway. Surely other people hope he's relatively smart, too, to be doing what he does. And still Oliwer looks a little lost, still has to ask even as he looks down at that hand on his knee, "G'laer? Are you propositioning me?" This might be obvious to most people. To him, he just needs to make sure he's not somehow misreading the situation. It's a situation that probably doesn't come up very often. No pun intended. Fortunately for Oliwer, G'laer and he share a very special bond: social ineptness. Which means that it doesn't fluster G'laer when he's asked so directly, instead his fingers flex a little against the other man's knee. "Nakedly," is the confirmation. "But I can stop, if you'd rather." No pressure. Just now, he's not advancing his aim, but simply standing his ground until the healer's had a chance to react. "No," is said rather quickly. It's not enthusiasm so much as needing to make it clear that he wouldn't rather just this moment. "I mean, I don't know. It's... it's been a long time since..." His voice trails off with whatever thought he'd been having as his gaze shifts over to the nudity that's been so helpfully re-pointed out. "Since anything," he finishes. Tentatively, Oliwer moves a hand over the greenrider's, which is easier, for now, than touching the thigh that he's looking at. G'laer's hand shifts. It's not a fast motion, but rather slow and steady, his hand rolling over underneath Oliwer's and his fingers moving to knit with the healer's. "I can wait 'til you've figured out if you're interested, if you like." He offers this, but then his opposite hand reaches over to brush his fingertips up and down along the man's upper arm. "Or I can keep propositioning you, and keep going unless you said no." He's flexible, see? Somewhere between that touch on his arm and those words, Oliwer's closed his eyes, breathed in a deep breath and let it out again slowly. "I'm interested. Definitely interested," he assures G'laer. He opens his eyes again and turns his head to meet the other man's gaze. "If this is just some... some effect of Teisyth's flight, however, I'm not sure it's a very good idea. It's also likely that your judgment is impaired from alcohol consumption. And I'd rather not take part in something you may regret later." Being responsible can be such a buzzkill. G'laer lets him finish speaking, let's him express the responsible sentiment. But then the hand that was on his arm is lifting to spider across Oliwer's cheek and chin as he leans forward, using the touch of his hand to draw the healer's face the last little bit so their lips can meet. The kiss isn't lusty and ill-conceived, but rather a slow first contact that builds if Oliwer lets it, and when the greenrider pulls his lips back, he murmurs, "It would be a lie to say it wasn't mostly about sex." So he won't. "But this isn't carry over from the flight or something I'd regret later. I've thought about it before, Oli. Just... not acted on it. I'd like to say I was confident enough in your interest to proposition you without the alcohol, but that would be a lie, too. I didn't know. At least this way, if you'd rebuffed me, I could've passed it off as being drunk and I wouldn't've lost a--" Well, it might not be quite the right word, but: "-friend." Oliwer is still and uncertain at first but he warms up easily, if a little awkwardly. There's no leaning for more when G'laer draws back but the healer is looking at him with a certain earnest intensity as he speaks, perhaps searching his face for some hint of insincerity, some excuse to not make himself vulnerable to this idea. In the end he nods with a flicker of a smile on his lips. "You've thought about it before? What did you think about?" The question brings color to G'laer's cheeks, just a light flush of pink. The man can't help but smile in a way that suggests some further degree of embarrassment. "Well, I know the massages aren't supposed to make a man think about your hands being elsewhere, but..." His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, and the smile turns a touch impish. "What can I say? I like the feel of them." His hand slips out of Oliwer's but only so that he can shift back onto the bed a little further before leaning back onto his elbows. "Thought about bringing it up, or trying to find a way to sort out if you'd be interested, or just kissing you and seeing what happened." The greenrider offers up as further explanation. "This seems to be working alright though." He cants his head slightly to one side and then there's a little nod that's an invitation for Oli to get a little more comfortable on the bed, to 'join him' in his half-sprawl across the mattress. Even Oliwer can smile with some measure of his own guilt at that thought. "I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind on occasion, as well." His smile fades, though, and now that he doesn't have any reason not to, he lets his eyes roam openly over G'laer's sprawling body. There's an odd moment of a frown before his gaze shifts away but he removes his shoes so he can draw his legs up and lay back carefully against the bed. "I don't think I ever figured I might be your... type." "My type." G'laer repeats, "What, discreet?" The greenrider's baritone has a slight lilt to it that suggests he's half-teasing. He rolls onto his side and carefully lays one hand against Oliwer's stomach. "I've probably talked to you more than virtually everyone else in the Weyr that I'm not related to." Happenstance of the massages and the innocuous chats they've had through them. Judging by the look Oliwer glances over at G'laer, that's probably not the type he was talking about. But, for now, the healer won't linger on his insecurities. Not out loud, anyway. Despite the greenrider's nudity, however, the healer isn't showing any indication that he's feeling overdressed yet. He looks for somewhere to set the oil aside, though, then clears his throat awkwardly. "You... you said you're not usually on the receiving end?" He seems okay with the hand on his stomach, anyway, even if he seems a little uncertain about his own arm that's sort of between them now. Socially inept though G'laer is, he's also relatively perceptive and the look is observed. As he reaches to take the oil, letting his fingers brush over Oliwer's and settle there for a moment, he looks to meet the healer's eyes. "I'm attracted to you." Direct's worked for them before, why not now? "Is that more what you meant?" Then his fingers shift to close around the oil and take it to set on his nightstand before rolling back the short distance to let his hand resume it's place on Oliwer's stomach, only this time, the hand is seeking to slip under shirt to lay against the flesh beneath. "Not usually," G'laer confirms, "Of course, any kind of 'usually' would've been some ten turns back or so. I'm not opposed to it, just..." He shrugs his shoulders. Just what history has shown. "Do you have a preference?" Oli had to know he'd be asked, didn't he? "I suppose," he murmurs for the more direct approach, but something in his voice sounds a little dubious. Oliwer watches G'laer's face as the greenrider sets the oil aside but his eyes close when that hand slips under his shirt. He's warm. A little flushed, even. And probably somewhat softer than the other man, if not unhealthily so. It's just that being a healer doesn't require the same rigors as being a rider. "No," he says at first, eyes open again, but then quickly amends, "Yes. I mean. I do. I just..." He's usually better at talking than this! "You're so young and attractive." Comparatively young, anyway. Never fear, Oli, G'laer will give the talking thing a reprieve as he leans down to kiss the healer again. If the greenrider's words aren't convincing enough about the attraction, then perhaps his lips and other evident body parts can be. The kiss and the silence provided by it gives the man a hand a chance to explore under Oliwer's shirt, his touch firm, but gentle, and he's going slow, just in case the healer wants to change his mind. "We're both adults," is his answer when the kiss breaks. As for the attractive part, there's no comment. G'laer is probably aware of how comely he is, if only by grace of knowing how often he probably should be slapped by someone and isn't. "Does it bother you? My age?" It would be a little hypocritical of him not to be considerate of that when there are near as many turns between himself and the healer as himself and the brownrider he bedded courtesy of Teisyth. By now it's not any secret that Oliwer's body is all for anything and everything being offered even if the brain it belongs to is being stubbornly inhibitive. But even that's pretty easily swayed by the kissing, which is a somewhat less awkward endeavor than the first attempt, Oliwer relaxing into it more earnestly. When G'laer speaks again, the healer's eyes stay closed and the way he breathes is somewhat telling of his arousal. "No. No, of course not. I just-- I thought... never mind." Never mind, indeed! This time it's Oliwer that lifts his head to kiss the greenrider. Talking is overrated. G'laer's smart enough to go with the flow now that Oliwer is taking some initiative. Awkwardness of kisses isn't troubling to him, nor is any awkwardness involved in pulling off Oliwer's shirt some time later. And it isn't until sometime after that that G'laer bothers to use his words again. He's now a little draped along/against the other man's side, and one hand is still travelling across the healer's chest. "You probably should tell me about your preferences." Given that things are moving along. It might become relevant soon. Fortunately Oliwer is less insecure about losing his shirt while otherwise mostly distracted by G'laer's lips and his own criminally neglected libido. "They're quite compatible with yours," is how Oliwer responds to that, which saves him from having to say anything he might find more difficult to be direct about. "It's just been a very, very long time." Way too long, if his tone of voice suggests anything. That response warrants more kissing. In point of fact, this kissing is a little different in that G'laer allows himself to become a little more leading, a little more aggressive. And while there's that handy distraction, he shifts to straddle across the older man's hips, letting the fabric of Oliwer's pants be all that separates flesh from flesh. He pulls back, sitting up, "Then we can take things very, very slowly," There's a small sort of smile for that, the kind of look that suggests G'laer intends to enjoy it. When G'laer takes a more obvious lead in this little adventure, Oliwer seems to relax that much more. Relax in a manner of speaking, anyway. He's certainly not just laying there now, hands a little more bold on the greenrider's thighs even if he's hesitant to touch much more than that. That won't keep him from looking. And wholeheartedly appreciating his view. "Or at least give it a good try," he comments on the slow thing with a warm, eager grin. "No promises." G'laer's grin comes back, impish. But a good try they can give it, even if maybe some moments have trouble with that whole slow idea. The words spoken are only enough to ensure no one is hurt and occasionally, if certain things feel good or 'eh.' G'laer's goal is always 'good' or better. 'Eh's and worse are quickly abandoned. He's not hesitant about playing leader, and even guide if it's needed, and Oli's not allowed to keep his pants very long at all. And it's some hours later that will find G'laer playing big spoon, his arms curled loosely around the healer's chest, his breath against the man's shoulder next to where his cheek rests as he dozes lightly. Oliwer is not the most communicative person in this regard, tending toward 'good' more often than not until he realizes just how good being more open and honest can end up feeling. No doubt the healer ended up dozing off in blissful oblivion at some point between then and now. But now he's starting to stir with more obvious consciousness. There's a brief tension before it fades again without Oliwer trying to get up and then there are fingertips tracing over the veins in G'laer's forearm. There's reason to be grateful for the alcohol and the setting. These two things mean that when Oliwer starts tracing across G'laer's forearm, there's no combat reflex that puts them into some very awkward situation. Instead, there's slow stirring from G'laer in turn. Slowly eyes flutter open, and equally slowly he takes stock of the situation, not that sleep can have erased memory. As he turns his head, he places a kiss against the back of Oliwer's neck and his arms flex to pull him just a little tighter against him, if only for a moment before the man's limbs relax and in so doing Oliwer is offered the chance to escape them, if he likes. There's a breath from Oliwer as he's pulled in tighter that definitely doesn't suggest that he minds. And when G'laer relaxes again, the healer doesn't necessarily bolt but he does shift. First onto his back and then starting to sit up while he looks at the greenrider. Not so much his face as everywhere else. And then he says, "I should... go, perhaps." He doesn't sound entirely sure. But he does add, "This was nice. Very nice." It kind of sounds like a thank you without actually saying those words. Once Oliwer is definitely moving, G'laer shifts too, rolling onto his back and stretching, which makes muscles flex nicely just when Oliwer is looking, though probably G'laer didn't plan it with that in mind. Probably. "If you like," It doesn't sound much like it matters to the greenrider one way or the other, but he does draw himself up until he's sitting too. "Teisyth and I can take you down. Or you can stay, if you like. It's not like we're going to be disturbed." There are advantages to having one's own private weyr. The 'very nice' part is, for the moment ignored, but perhaps that he feels similarly is communicated in the way one of his hands rubs the healer's upper arm for a moment. That stretching is obviously appreciated but then Oliwer's gaze flickers up to G'laer's face as he sits up. He seems uncertain about what he wants now, especially with the greenrider touching his arm. But after a moment of closing his eyes to get himself in order, he asks, "Is this going to happen again?" He probably doesn't mean right this moment but instead more generally. It's better to not wonder about things like that though it might be odd that he seems to drop the decision firmly in G'laer's lap. One might think that's dropping it in G'laer's lap, but really, it's more like a game of Hot Tuber, "Do you want it it to happen again?" Blue eyes study the healer's face. The look Oliwer gives G'laer is a touch accusatory. How dare he just throw the question back at him. He asked first! But the healer has some sort of answer that isn't just asking the question again. "I'm not sure it's wise. But... yes." Even though he says yes, he seems uncertain of the answer, like there are other factors to consider already filtering through his head. "No? What would make it unwise?" G'laer has to ask then, of course. The accusation doesn't seem to bother him, if anything, it's the underlying cause of the way his lips pull into a half-smirk. He does shift though, after the question, to lean in and press his lips to the healer's neck. Lips followed by teeth, though gently, with no intent to mark, simply to distract. Perhaps that gives some reassurance that the greenrider is interested in it happening again. It's definitely distracting. Oliwer forgets what he was saying for a few moments, tilting his head to give G'laer the line of his neck before he pulls just out of reach of lips and teeth. "It will make a professional relationship more difficult." It sounds lame even to him once he's said it, leaning back into reach to kiss whatever's closest in turn. "Sharding dragonriders." Those words are probably as close to swearing as Oliwer tends to get and they're said with an odd, resigned but still distant affection. Amusement is the response from the greenrider as the healer pulls away from him, and his hands fold in his lap as though he were being deliberately patient, waiting for him to finish. "Personally," G'laer drawls slowly, the kiss causing his smirk to grow a little, "I appreciate a good challenge. Don't you?" A brow raises challengingly. "How about if I promise that I won't report you if you get distracted during one of our massages? Or if we just start scheduling things off the books and after-hours?" "Mm, that sounds fantastically romantic. Scheduling sex. No wonder you're single." It's not often that Oliwer makes jokes but this one is obviously just that. Except he sobers somewhat soon after, finally shifting toward the edge of the bed to find his clothes. They're somewhere. "This is just sex, isn't it? You are single, aren't you?" G'laer did mention discretion, after all. Oliwer just needs to make sure he understands the situation as fully as possible. Ah, there're his pants. He starts to pull those on because being naked for an extended period of time just isn't very comfortable. Especially next to G'laer's dragonrider-y body. That makes G'laer grin. "That's me. Romantic." He draws his knees up and wraps his arms loosely around them while watching the healer search for his clothes. The man's look is considering, "Honestly?" But since the answer is almost certainly 'yes,' "I can't say if it's just sex. Don't know you well enough to make that kind of call. I am single. Have been for turns." He must guess that the question somehow links back to his talk of discretion, or maybe this is just the next thing he needs to say, "I'm just not the type to flash around my private life. Even if this is more than sex... it'd be-- a while before I'd be comfortable saying so to the world at large." If ever. "I'm not usually one for just sex." This is added after a breath of silence, and there's the slightest bit of color to his cheeks. "Well," begins Oliwer, absorbing that information and trying to decide what to do with it. "I have no need to say anything to anyone. I think I'd rather not. I just like to know where I stand at any given time. It's been... more than turns since I've done anything like this, let alone anything you might call a relationship. So. Don't worry." He speaks as he finds his shirt and pulls it on over his head, offering a small smile as he situates it properly, tucks it in and fastens up his pants. For good measure, he turns to find his glass, pour another finger and takes a drink. "Alright," G'laer seems to be able to appreciate that desire. "Where you stand with me is this: I enjoyed that. I enjoy you. I've enjoyed our talks," Awkward and less so, "As far as I'm concerned, nothing's off the table in the way of how things might go between us. Maybe it will be just sex. Maybe it will be more. Maybe it will be less. If I ever sort out something needs to leave the table, I'll let you know. And I'll trust that you'll do the same for me." He waits, watching the healer and his drink. Oliwer nods and seems to appreciate the greenrider's honesty without being disappointed by it. "Of course. That seems perfectly reasonable." He probably doesn't think to ask about other people since it's not really a concern for him. When he's finished the rest of his drink, he comes back, his bag in hand, to put the oil on the nightstand away. It's once Oliwer is back by the bed, the greenrider is sliding out of it to collect his own pants and shirt. "I assume you're not just tidying up and in point of fact getting ready for us to take you back down to the ground. Do I assume correctly?" He's not waiting for the answer before pulling the pants on and starting on the laces. "I can have someone get me if you'd rather," says Oliwer like it would be no trouble. He doesn't want to inconvenience G'laer, after all. He watches as the other man puts his clothes on, settling temporarily on the edge of the bed with a hand still on his bag as he pushes his feet into his shoes. "No, it's fine. I just wanted to know where I stand." The greenrider borrows the healer's words, and spins them with a tongue-in-cheek tone, flashing a smirk toward the older man as he pulls on his shirt and tucks it in. He settles beside Oliwer to pull on his socks. "So, shall I schedule with you for the next time or do you want to just drop by some evening when it's convenient for you?" G'laer asks as he tugs trouser legs down over the tall boot socks. For all his teasing earlier, Oliwer admits, "I suppose it might be easiest to schedule. I wouldn't want to intrude if you weren't available. However, you're welcome to visit my quarters as well. They're private." One of the benefits of being a journeyman. "I don't believe I've had company since I arrived." Which is probably meant to indicate there's very little he could intrude upon. "Teisyth has a lot more company than I do." G'laer responds, "And the nice thing about having had a professional relationship on-going is that if you were to come by at an inauspicious moment, there's an easy excuse to offer." Then the greenrider reaches with his outside hand to Oli's outside cheek, meaning to turn his head and kiss him. A brief thing this time, but one that comes with a little frisky nip to his lower lip as G'laer pulls back. "But I'll come by. I've got a rest day on the third day of the next seven if you'd like to go somewhere. Or stay in somewhere. If your duties will accommodate." Oliwer has become quite comfortable with this kissing thing in the few short hours he's been here. He's probably not sure how he feels about that, the grin it causes fading after a moment. "I tend to work more than I'm scheduled for, anyway. If I want to take a day off, they'll let me." An upside to being a boring workaholic! Finally! "I can make sure my schedule is clear." Which must be equivalent to a 'sure, that sounds fun." "Alright then. It's a date." The use of the word makes G'laer look briefly amused. He leans to kiss the other man once more and then he's on his feet and heading for where his boots and riding jacket are kept near the tunnel to the ledge. Once his boots are on and he's pulling his jacket down, he turns to look back toward the healer. "Ready?" |
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