Logs:Never Asked, Never Told
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, Itsy |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Drex and Itsy having a falling-out. Wait... what? But that never happens! |
| Where: Drex's Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 1, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions |
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| Drex has never been a bit fan of the crowds that surface during the evening meal, and so it's probably not such a great surprise that he's collected a variety of foodstuffs and slunk his way out of the caverns. He retreats, naturally, to his room -- the one that hasn't been claimed back by cleaning staff or weyrlingmaster staff, at least -- through the twist of corridors in the tunnels of the Weyr. Over time, his collection of stuff has grown -- along with little pieces of jewelry and clothing odds and ends are maps, some old and useless, and one that looks relatively new. The boxes have been rearranged just a little, to make a rough version of table and chairs (though that throne of boxes still welcomes visitors to the room). Even after nearly a turn on dry land, Itsy's step is still the clomping, stomping one developed from too much time at sea; you can't keep quiet on a ship, so why even try? It means she's audible before she even gets close, even if she may not be entirely sure of exactly where she's going. "Oy," she says, as her head appears around the doorway. "This it, then?" The sailor's on his feet -- for a moment -- but Drex knows that particular stomping too well not to recognize it, and so he's sunk back down onto his makeshift seat by the time Itsy pokes her head around the door, grinning. "Aye. Nice, huh?" For a relatively empty, boring room, anyway. But it's his. "I got food," he gestures towards the box/table, but his gaze is on the other sailor, obviously curiously about her reaction to his find. Itsy's eyes may be half-hidden beneath that ubiquitous hat of hers, but they scope the room out anyway; the throne, the boxes, all the 'treasures' Drex has pulled together. "Not bad," she agrees, sauntering towards the table. "Not that it'll matter, right? Not for much longer. Soon as the weather clears..." Spring is still a few months away, but surely that counts as soon. Right? One of the treasures might catch her eye -- a hat. The brim's probably a little too flimsy, but it could be pinned up out of the way. Drex doesn't try to hit the grin that follows her not bad, reaching for a handful of those tiny pastries. "Still think we're getting a ship?" he asks, not-so-casually. The hat does catch Itsy's eye, but only for a minute. Hands going to hips, she turns her gaze sharply onto Drex and says, "Why wouldn't we be? Or is it that you've decided you'd rather stay? Is that it? Ain't like you not to talk to me, so spit it out." "That fancy Lord of yours might have other things on his mind." Drex says, kind of obviously, frowning at her. "Me?" He snorts, any sign of his grin of earlier fading rapidly from his expression, something more clouded creeping in. "I aint the one getting far too comfy of this fancy life they lead here." "He's not going to forget us," is something Itsy is confident about, whatever is going on in Devaki's life. "Not ever." Only... then she just starts looking bewildered. "What the fuck you going on about?" His, "Oh, I don't know," is fairly aggressive, "You going to a gather with Farideh. Getting all prettied up, with a dress and your hair," Drex draws himself up, and walks towards her, his hand lifting as if he intends to take that hat right off her head, "You got it all gussied up under that hat now, huh? Gonna become a lady and go to fancy gathers and learn how to use a proper fork? Gonna become that Lord's wife next, are ya?" The sudden scarlet in Itsy's cheeks certainly suggests that Drex is not completely off the mark with everything he's said, except that her hands ball themselves into fists and lift, and she scowls at him, shoulders drawn back. "You saying I'm not allowed to be a girl? Can't be pretty just once? Fuck you, Drex. Not my keeper. Ain't ashamed." When she draws back, Drex settles into a slouched position, folding arms across his chest. "You aint like them, Itsy. You're better." "'cause I'm basically a boy?" Itsy doesn't sound flattered. "Pretty girls don't take girls like me into their beds, so fuck you. I do what I want." "No. Because you're Itsy," Drex says, like this should be argument enough. For him, maybe it is. It's not until her latter words that his face flushes, though it's a little less obvious under the dusky color of his skin. Wordlessly, he spins, climbs his box throne, and slouches onto it, glowering. It's fair to say he's prepared for a lengthy, committed sulk. Itsy is, indeed, Itsy... but it's fair to say that she doesn't see this as enough, as flattering as it may be. "Grow the fuck up," she says, after a moment's silence. "Ain't nobody own me, Drex. Not you, not nobody. Come find me when you're ready to act normal." At which point, she makes for the door. The sailor's expression darkens. As she's walking off, Drex says to her back: "You never told me you were..." he trails off, snaps his mouth shut. "Never asked, did you?" Itsy slams the door behind her. So there. |
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