Logs:No Scratch
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| RL Date: 15 September, 2013 |
| Who: I'zech, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo and her friends stop by the Rusty Nail for a drink. She also checks up on clutchmate, I'zech. |
| Where: The Rusty Nail, High Reaches area |
| When: Day 21, Month 10, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Sabella/Mentions |
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| The Rusty Nail is it's usual busy fanfare of cards, booze, tension and asses. Despite what's going on anywhere in this region, at this bar, life goes on. Jo arrives with M'ron and Kaitlin flanking her, dressed in her black leathers as she scans the crowd on the threshold for familiar faces. Of course, the barmaids call out greetings their way before the trio makes it to the counter for drinks. By the looks on their faces, it would seem as though they have had long days. Once the bartender comes by with their drinks, Jo has him by the arm before he heads out as she jerks her head back and asks, "Hey. Where's yer boss?" The bartender gives Jo a bit of a look, like maybe he's not used to that kind of request and it takes him a moment to remember that they're both in the know. But he tips his head toward the back corner, where I'zech is sprawled at a dark table with some mousy-haired girl all but in his lap. And as usual, he barely seems to notice that she's there, but she's pulling out all the stops, murmuring drunkenly against his cheek, playing her hand on his chest and generally wiggling around in the booth like she's probably got a leg thrown over his. At length, he gives her a 'are you kidding me?' look and pushes out an elbow to nudge her off. "You wanted a job," he reminds her. "Go do." A wave of his hand toward the bar before him brings his attention to the trio of familiar faces and he wrinkles his face in a put-upon manner, but jerks his head in greeting anyway. Jo's brows lift at the bartender when he stares at her funny, waiting. Then once he points toward the back, she turns in time to catch I'zech with the girl on his lap. Once corner of her mouth lifts as she openly watches it unfold before he meets her gaze and she tosses to her companions, "Drink whatever ya want on my tab." If she doesn't have a tab, she does now! She doesn't wait for an answer, either since she leaves, M'ron eyeing their bronzeriding clutchmate with a snort and shake of his head while Kait tosses a wink his way before she gets right to using Jo's generosity. "Still fuckin' around, I see," is Jo's greeting, meanwhile, reaching his table with a nod before she gestures to the table. "Can I sit, or is that only reserved for yer lap?" The girl is still sulkily gathering herself up to draw away, the pout not nearly as endearing as she probably thinks it is. "You looking for company, love?" she asks, popping a smile on her face, if a moment late, and giving Jo a once-over. The girl might think it's a long shot, but I'zech is there, the peanut gallery, saying, "Please, yes, show Jo a good time." His mouth sneers a little, and there's a bit of dark humor in his eye as he fixes his gaze on the bluerider. It's a beat that passes before he tips his head toward the open side of the booth, invitation to go ahead and sit. There. Not in his damn lap. What's with everyone tonight? Jo gives the girl a casual study when she's being addressed by her, her dark gaze flicking up and down her before I'zech speaks and her hard gaze is cutting towards him and his words for what they are. With a slight mix of a smirk and sneer back, "Only if he joins in, luv," is her response before her gaze slides back to her to add, "And that might be too much for him to handle. Maybe next time." Now she drops into the seat across from him with her mug. She pauses to drink, perhaps giving the girl time to depart as she takes an indulgent drink and then gestures with the mug to indicate the place. "Place needs more decoration," she comments. "I know a guy." Now that 'are you kidding me' look is shared with Jo. But he lets her go on, joining, too much, all of that. And he gives Mousy another tip of his head to send her on her way. "Go make some damn money," he tells her. And Mousy, for all that she turned a hopeful look at I'zech for Jo's suggestion, finally gives in and moves along. And I'zech just sit there, letting his head fall back against the wall. "I don't think guys are the kind of decoration people are looking for," he drolls without his eyes leaving the bluerider. Jo catches that look, but it's likely, by the growing smile, that she says what she says for reaction. Watching Mousy leave, "Ya know what I meant," she returns on the last before she meets his gaze once more. "I know people. In fact, I know a business that could help keep all the damages that rowdy folks like me causes in a bar. Shouldn' cost ya all that much. Ain' really here for business, though," she adds, chin lifting. "Here for the drinks. For the eye candy. Also to harass ya since yer like a ghost lately." A nail idly scraping under lifted chin, "Thought maybe I'd find ya healin' from some stab wound or some shit." A brow cocks at this bit of business she isn't actually bringing, like maybe I'zech isn't completely disinterested in it? But she prefers to drink. And to enjoy the eye candy. "I could call her back," he points out, not taking his eyes off Jo but lifting his chin to the departed girl. There might just be the sense that he doesn't actually know what her name is. Anyway, Jo is also here to harass him, which she's clearly making progress on. The bronzerider shakes his head. "That was H'vier. The one who got stabbed," he corrects, lifting a hand to brush it through the disheveled mess of his hair, eyes narrowing blankly to recall that evening. "Worried about me?" He barely bothers to tease her about it. But he does bother a little. Jo is halfway through her drink, and when she notes the tall-tale signs of interest in business, "Been thinkin' of goin' into business for myself," she's brisk in explaining casually. She could be talking about the weather, really. "People that need protection or need someone protectin' somethin', they come to me. Or maybe ya need somethin' moved someplace else, too. I and my silent partner are still workin' out the kinks," she explains. "Maybe there's cargo ya need moved or brought. I provide the lift. Better than payin' some guards that might wanna look into yer shit, right? That's all it is." She merely shakes her head once on bringing the girl back, and when he brings up the bronzerider, "Ahh, yes, I heard," the ex-con recalls with open laughter. "Shit, what do ya expect from a Reachian goldflight these days, huh? Even the greenflights might have ya endin' up with glass cuttin' yer ass." She knocks some of her drink back and sets it down when he asks the last, brows lifting and falling at I'zech with a slight shrug. "Maybe," she gives with that faint, annoying smirk. "Someone has to worry 'bout folks like us, right? Even if ya don' bother with the likes of us." I'zech stares at her as she explains and then, "Are you allowed to do that? To work on your own, without your 'friends' being involved? Or is this something they're getting a kick back from. You know, for letting you hatch the plan and do all the work." As usual, he doesn't hold back how he feels about her Greenfields connections. His tongue runs along his teeth, just daring her to defend the organization. As for the flight, that gets a sniff, and the hand that's been resting atop his head now drops to his drink, curling around it with a flexing grip that might show a little lingering discomfort. "They all just want a little bloodsport. And they don't have the balls to try it when they don't have dragons to hide behind." Unlike him, of course. "You got reason to worry? Not like much has changed. Things with you okay?" He tips his glass back for a nice long gulp. It's just ale tonight, but this probably isn't the first one. "This has nothin' to do with them," Jo is quick to say on Greenfields. "I'm not stealin' food outta their mouths, or pissin' in their spot. There's business for everyone out here. Obviously," and she gestures with a hand at his very establishment. "Why, worried I'll end up with a knife to the gut, darlin'?" she turns it back on I'zech. "Booze can make anythin' a bloodsport," she goes on to comment on the flight, amused touched in her tone. "Was it just the stabbin'? Anythin' else happen?" His return on worrying earns him a snort and a, "Ya play those cards too close, not even busty girl can look over yer shoulder," she quips back. "Lookin' forward to formin' the minds of a new batch of weyrlins'?" Yep, it's a tease. "And I'm good. Wouldn' mind a day on a beach somewhere, though. It's good to step back every once'n a while, ya know? Sniff the air and play some cards. Might make a trip of it. Yer welcome to come with us if ya want." "Maybe," I'zech replies, unconvinced no matter how quickly Jo may answer. "Your people, there always a catch." But when she goes turning his own question back on him, the bronzerider can't help but crack a sneer of a smile, narrowing his gaze at her to begrudgingly award a silent point. "Maybe just thinking I don't want to be no silent partner under Greenfield's nose. Anyway, I don't have the scratch right now." Which could very well explain some of his mood. Not that it's really all that different from his usual mood. "Fucking obnoxious," he says of the flight with a shake of his head and an expression like he's still carrying a bad taste in his mouth. "I'll take a green flight any day. Golds..." Instead of finishing that thought, he just watches Jo as she paints this picture of a beach. Fresh air. Maybe sunlight. Maybe it softens something. At least it warms his retort -- "What do you want with my cards anyway?" -- and warms something that might actually be half a grin. But before things can get too chummy, he rolls his shoulders and start to haul himself out of his seat. "Maybe." For the beach. If they make a trip. Leaning a little forward, "What I gotta do to convince ya that this is my shit and not theirs?" Jo's straight up in asking, her gaze hard and pointed. "Don' worry about scratch right now. All we're doin' is talkin' right now, right? I'm showin' what food I can bring, seein' if it wets yer appetite." Lips lift at that, then she drains her mug on the flights before she drawls out, "What, don' wanna be clutchdaddy, Ikarzech? Imagine the perks." As if she knows if there is any perks to being one. She shifts to the talk of a trip, his response seeming typical since she gives him low laughter and, "I'm nosy. When have ya known me not to be?" Then, chin dropping, "Just like yer so into my'n Sabs' business, darlin'," she adds. But then he's up, and she's not joining him there, his answers getting a grin from her towards the wall. Turning her head towards him, "Think about it. It'll be like old times." If he walks then, she won't add anymore. She'll just be nursing the last of her beer. Appetite? I'zech's tongue does dart out again, touching his lip in a thoughtful expression that might imply he hasn't shut down entirely on this business idea. "Let me see what I can do," he mutters. "If you're looking for work in the meantime, I might be able to..." He wags a noncommittal hand for the prospect of bringing her on some job here or there. After all, his own line of work isn't so far off of what she's proposed. But imagining the perks of being a clutch sire? That makes his posture twist. "Rather not," comes the grumble. No, it would seem that the flight got under his skin, perhaps a bit more than usual. But that's likely a conversation for another time. Maybe on that beach. "I'll think about it. Give us a yell when you're going." Though he does add prior to heading off. "Before the weyrlings." Because apparently, yes, he's still going to do that job. Even if it means he misses a bit of beach time. He drops a hand on her shoulder as he passes, giving it a squeeze before he goes. Head tilting to regard his mouth, "Ya do that," Jo returns with a touch of humor. "I'm never lookin' for work, but..." and she pauses, leaning back in the seat, "...I do grow bored seein' the same faces," she continues to say. "And I don' like to have them thinkin' I'm readily available. I don' like lettin' anyone think that. Need a hand, ya know how to get at me." She does look like she could ask about his reluctance on being the clutchdaddy, but no words come out for it. Perhaps it is for another time, after all. "I will," she gives on the trip, inclining her head to him. "Before the weyrlins'. See ya around, I'zech." Once he squeezes her shoulder and goes, only then does M'ron and Kait join her at the table - refreshing her drink and kicking back there for the rest of the night. |
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