Logs:Not the Right Idea
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| RL Date: 13 February, 2016 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Quint, Silva, Aidavanth, Zaisyreth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jocelyn and Quint rescue drunk!Silva from an unsavory suitor. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 1, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
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| Given the atrocious weather outside, the Snowasis is a little less occupied than usual -- with many choosing to ride out the weather in the comfort and warmth of their own weyrs and rooms. Certainly, that's not to say there aren't brave souls looking to avoid entering a cold, dark weyr -- there's a cheerful sort of crowd tonight, with a group playing darts over near the bar, and a few card games going on. Quint's standing at the bar, leaning against it, waiting to get the attention of the bartender but not in in apparent hurry, gaze flickering around the place as fingers drum absently against the bar top, in time to some tune he's humming under his breath. Silva's not... exactly sober. And the guy she's with? Totally okay helping her stay not-totally-sober. She just finished a glass of wine and he's already putting another one in her hand, even as he takes the empty glass from her. They //must// be on a date, because Silva's dressed to the hilt, with her hair done in gentle waves off one shoulder. "Aren't I like... suppose to eat something?" There's a serious vagueness in her voice, not like her typical pert. She's a little lost in the not-quite-sober. Jocelyn isn't exactly what one would call a frequent patron of the Snowasis, but she does show her face in the establishment from time to time. If the solitude of her study doesn't appeal to her much this evening for what free time yet remains to her, it certainly isn't apparent; she, still in the button-down shirt and fitted trousers of her work hours, strides in with all the purpose of someone who intends to stay a short period, demeanor impatient as her march carries her straight up to the bar. Pale eyes, quick to seek the bartender, pass briefly over Quint in the course of their search - and double back after a moment. "Harper, " she greets in her usual, even tone, surprise otherwise evident only in the way her eyebrows briefly lift. "Not bothering the kitchen folk this evening, I see." There's a glance cast over their surroundings - and Silva, plied with drink. That makes her brow pinch decidedly into a frown. The bartender finally comes around to Quint, and he leans over, cheerful exchange occurring before he finally commits to his order. Even while his wine is being poured, his gaze still wanders, passing over Silva for a moment, before drifting back with a distinct sort of intense look. He doesn't intervene -- not immediately -- taking a few moments to assess what's going on first. Jocelyn's greeting turns his attention -- albeit briefly -- with an easy, practiced smile. "Weyrling. I do my best not to make a habit of it," is his easy response, before his gaze goes back to Silva. With a slight nod, to indicate where his attention is, he asks Jocelyn in a low murmur, "What do you think? It isn't the first time the poor girl's been in over her head, but I also hate to break up what could be a... preferred match... for her." Any more drunk and Mr. Date will probably have to carry Silva back to his rooms, which would most likely ruin his plans for the evening, so this is probably the last wine. Silva sips at it, and giggles at something that gets said about her, mostly because she's not totally tracking right now. She stands and stumbles slightly, her date swooping in to curl an arm around her. "Woah there, let's just go somewhere more private, aye?" It doesn't SOUND totally sketch. Silva tries to push away from him, startled at the sudden nearness of the man. "And surely, they appreciate your efforts, " Jocelyn returns dryly, mouth shaping into a half-curve while she gives the bartender her own order for a glass of something dry and white, speech polite if short. There's another, longer look given in the direction of the younger weyrling at Quint's murmur. "I don't like it, " she pronounces definitively. "People shouldn't take advantage of others." No exceptions, says her expression, which freezes into something tight-lipped as she watches Silva's attempt to put some distance between herself and the handsy fellow. Pointedly, "I think it's time for us to break up that not-preferred match." Us? Wanted or not, there's the assumption that he'll have company on his quest. Quint's gaze continues to be focused on Silva and the young man she's with, even when the bartender returns with his drink. He drops near to the right amount of coins onto the bar top, but doesn't reach for the glass. Instead, he waits, listening for Jocelyn's assessment before he nods in wordless agreement with her. His posture is easy enough as he moves, though there's no gentlemanly offer of escort, instead threading the way through the crowd towards Silva and her suitor with a sharp focus. "Silva, my dear, there you are!" he hails them with a lifted hand, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar man. "I thought you were going to join us for a drink?" he glances at Jocelyn, briefly, then back to the pair as he comes to a halt. Quint gets a firm stinkeye from Silva's date, as he reaches forward again and wraps his arm around the teenager's waist, pulling her towards him. "She's my date for the night." There's clear posessiveness there, even as Silva blinks in confusion. A toss of her hair doesn't have her quite fighting his arm, "Quint? Did I like... forget? I feel super fuzzy, like... I don't know. I didn't mean to forget if I did!" Wait, there's an arm around her waist and she blinks upwards. "Jocelyn?" Clear question mark there. WOULD she agree to sit down and have drinks with Jocelyn? "Excuse me, " says Jocelyn icily, clearly meaning nothing of the sort to the outsider with Silva, "but if this is how you procure your dates, " that lip-curling acidity is quite audible, "then you'd best be on your way. Having spent months living with her recently, I can tell you that she needs someone to care for her quite extensively." There's an up-and-down assessment for the stranger; nothing about him is apparently satisfactory, says the way her smile forms, jaw set. "And you're doing a very poor job of it. Silva, " and the redhead's tone unexpectedly gentles for her classmate - why, she almost sounds kind. "Come sit with us. I'll buy your dinner if you haven't eaten anything yet tonight and make sure you get back safely to Zaisyreth." If the harper is at all unsettled by the look he receives from Silva's date, it doesn't ripple the pleasant, cheerful exterior at all. "Oh, it must be a mix up," Quint replies to the man, taking a breath before Jocelyn's icy response earns his gaze. If he's bemused, it doesn't show in his expression, instead clearing his throat briefly. "Yes -- you must have forgotten," he insists to Silva. "It's okay. We can grab a table now. Your... friend... can arrange meet up with you another time, perhaps. I'm sure he understands prior commitments." He reaches out a hand for the blue weyrling's arm with the intent of steering Silva towards Jocelyn and separating her from her 'date'. Silva's just kind of floating though life right now, with her head floating in the fog of all the wine she's been fed tonight. But two things manage to sink in out of all the words. First, Zaisyreth's name. "Zaisyreth... he says I had a date. But I should go with you. I think. He feels so far away." The second is Quint's hand on her arm. Firmly in her fog she pulls away from the man and clings to Quint's arm, and reaches for Jocelyn's too like the pair of them are suddenly something firm in a world spinning way too fast. There's only so much that Silva's date can do in the face of the Journeyman and Jocelyn who is kinda scary intense. "Whatever." He steps back, arms across his chest. "I wasn't really interested in the little whore anyway." Yup. Not a match made in heaven. Jocelyn takes Silva's other arm as the bluerider reaches out to her, too, pale gaze intent on the girl's face. "He'll be closer soon enough, " she promises steadily. "You're going to have a good meal, if you feel up to it, and plenty of water before you go home." Briefly, her attention turns from Silva to the girl's date, long enough to give him a disgusted look before she encourages her fellow weyrling to head across the Snowasis toward a different table entirely. She's watchful, frown still present even if - for once - it isn't directed at Silva herself. "Okay now," comes Quint's soothing voice as Silva clings tightly, a stable, sober rock as he ensures she has her feet firmly under her. The other man's words earn a level look, far from his normal cheerful demeanor but nothing alarming, all the same. When Jocelyn draws Silva towards a table, his hold on the bluerider's arm drops, murmuring, "I'll be there in a moment," and instead of following the pair, moves towards the man, his voice low and casual-like: "You are unfamiliar to me, and I make a point of knowing everyone. Which means you are either a visitor or from some outlying area. I suggest you head back there now, tonight, because you won't want to be around here tomorrow. These riders, you understand, protect each other's backs, and I'll be going back over there and telling a whole bunch of them you tried to prey on one of their own." A beat, and he offers an easy smile: "Have a good night." Silva follows docilely enough upon Jocelyn's arm. She's not so far gone that she doesn't hear the man's parting words. It puts a hint of steel in her spine, a cover coming down on her expression as she takes the hurt inside of herself and stores it where the rest of her gathered sorrows sit. "He said I was the most beautiful woman in the room." An explanation of why Silva would allow herself to be lured in, as she sits where Jocelyn directed her. Behind them, her date, stares down Quint for a long moment. There's something chilling about his words though, so it's not long after when he's gathering up his coat and getting himself out of dodge, sans one bluerider on his arm. To Zaisyreth, Aidavanth's presence might be faintly ringed with drowsiness, but there's a brisk clarity to her words as Jocelyn wakes her from her almost-sleep to convey a message to her brother. « Zaisyreth. You must meet Silva outside of the Snowasis after she has something to eat. Jocelyn says I should ask if you have a - » There's the sense that she wants to use the word 'friend, ' then: « - neighbor whom you both trust who could look in on her tonight in case she feels ill when you return to your weyr. » Lush scents of newly grown grass sweep with relief across Aidavanth's drowsy mind. « It did not feel right, what she was doing. But she was lonely, and he was kind. I will ask if Freyth's rider will look in when she returns. » Very much not a friend, but the older greenrider is a quiet neighbor who at least has no antagonistic relationship with the young bluerider. « My thanks to yours. I will be there. » (To Aidavanth from Zaisyreth) Jocelyn's one pace too many away to quite make out what Quint's gone back to say to Silva's very former date - and at any rate, she's occupied enough with making sure Silva gets safely settled into a seat across from her. Once they've secured a table, she flags down a passing member of the waitstaff to ask for glasses of water and a basket of bread, expression softening slightly once the order's put in and the server, departed. "You've got to look out for yourself, " she says at some length, voice devoid of censure. There it is again, that almost kind tone. "Don't let a man's pretty words sway you into a bad situation. The person who sees what Zaisyreth sees in you: that's the person you should wait for." It's an awkward, if sincere enough delivery, and the goldrider straightens with not a little relief when the water and bread basket appear in relatively short order. "Start with this. Zaisyreth's going to come take you home after your head clears up a bit." Quint watches the man depart, waiting until he disappears before he turns, detouring past the bar to collect those discarded glasses. He's carrying them back back to the table where Jocelyn and Silva are, cheerfully setting them down, catching only the last part of the conversation. "I'm told there's some decent stew on offer -- what do you think?" he asks, as he slides into a chair opposite the pair. His gaze flickers from Silva to Jocelyn, then back, quietly taking measure of what he might have missed in their respective expressions. Then, after a beat of silence, he leans forward, "Hey. You okay?" to Silva. To Zaisyreth, Aidavanth would no doubt shake her head if such an expression came naturally to a dragon; as it is, there's only the sense of the emotion that tends to accompany such a gesture, followed by a gentle warmth that floats in the wake of her withdrawal. "I'm drunk, aren't I?" Silva's head lowers far enough to press against the table for a moment. The click of a glass of water getting delivered draws her back up and limply she reaches for it. Silva, not a happy-go-dance-on-tables drunk. Right now she'll just follow instructions, and drink and eat. Quint ariving has Silva looking down shame faced as she continues to sip. "Thank you. I guess... it wasn't... the right... idea." "I've already eaten, " says Jocelyn with a glance up to Quint and a mouthed 'thanks' as he retrieves their wine, "but some stew to go with that bread might not be a bad plan." For Silva's ashamed quietude, there's only silence from the older weyrling for some moments, fingers toying almost absently with the stem of her glass. "Losing your wits around unfamiliar people usually isn't, " the right idea. There's a look given to the harper at their table that's rather unreadable, then: "Would you like stew? More bread? Silva." "We all make mistakes. Some of us more than a few times," Quint observes, though there's an easy fondness in his tone that takes out any sting of the words. "Good thing you have your clutchmate here to look out for you, mm?" he gives a nod towards Jocelyn, before his gaze flickers back to Silva. He takes a small sip from his glass, before suggesting: "We can have some made to bring up with you to your weyr, keep it on the hearth for later if you get hungry." Eat bread, drink water. Two instructions that Silva can follow because they require very little instruction. She doesn't make much headway on the food, but she is at least drinking the water. A shake of her head slowly. "Thank you... thank you both." Slightly more steady with something inside of her Silva slowly pushes herself to her feet. "Zaisy's outside. You don't need to bother anymore... but... thanks." Still all sorts of shamefaced Silva turns away from the pair and moves towards the doorway where her patient blue waits to take her home. Jocelyn half-looks as if she'd like to say something more by the time Silva's getting up and making for the doorway, but settles for watching the teenaged weyrling leave, expression shading thoughtful once her attention returns to the table companion who remains. Her gaze is still inscrutable as she studies the harper over careful sips from her goblet, but there's a faint twitch at the corners of her mouth that betrays something of her inner dialog. "I don't know what kind of fear you put into that man, " she says at last, "but - it was good of you to step in. I didn't want to see something bad happen to her." There's an uncomfortable clearing of her throat. "So, harper. Tell me how your sister's settling in at Fort." And the redhead seems willing enough to make at least some conversation while she finishes off more of her beverage over the course of the next almost half-hour, sentences delivered in a manner that's very to the point up until her wine earns a small push away and she, too, makes to depart. Quint's in the midst of another tiny sip from his glass when Silva stands. Quickly setting down his glass, he rises soon after the blue weyrling does. "At least let us walk you outside, mm? Make sure you and Zaisyreth make it up okay?" but his words are belated, watching the weyrling leave with a studied frown, sinking back into his seat. His brows go upwards at Jocelyn's words about his conversation with Silva's erstwhile suitor: "I don't know what you mean. We had a pleasant conversation, is all. He asked where the exit was." He seems easy enough to steer into safe territory: telling some story about how his sister's complaining about living with young teenagers, and that she found dirty socks piling up around her cot, along with plenty of other anecdotes that, true or not, are amusing enough to pass the time while he nurses his own glass, not in any hurry. When she makes to leave, he too, rises, though only while she departs, sinking back down into his chair again after she departs. |
Comments
Silva (23:14, 13 February 2016 (PST)) said...
<3 <3 <3 Quint and Jocelyn so hard core.
Alida (00:34, 14 February 2016 (PST)) said...
Quint was incredibly nice to that skeezy skeeve who tried to pick up Silva. Alida would have said something much more...'direct' to him...or she would've told specific other riders in the Snowasis that skeezy dude was attempting to prey on a vulnerable weyrling rider. ;D
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