Logs:One Track Mind
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| RL Date: 30 June, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, H'vier, U'by |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte runs into another former Istan. Woefully, he doesn't remember that he's already seen her breasts. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 2, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder. |
| Mentions: Sisha/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: U'by, the redhead, cameo! played by Tayte. |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
There's nothing bright about H'vier when he comes into the Snowasis from the caverns beyond rather than the ledge. He looks tired after a day's work. But he's freshly bathed, as evidenced by damp hair but dry clothes. His first stop is, of course, going to be aimed at the bar to get himself a drink. Because that's one of the main reasons people come to this joint in the first place. But once he has that, his gaze wanders. It's not exactly hard to notice Tayte's bright sweater and so his gaze tends to linger there. Tayte has a habit of standing out. Beyond being bright, the sweater is designed 'just so' so that her curves are hugged in all the right places. There's no skin shown, but the cutting-edge-fashion is surely intended to create allure. She always was a trendy dresser, though at Ista, it was no sweaters, mostly sarongs, bathing suits, and sundresses. Evidently all three drinks are for her, because she takes a sip of each in turn, expression thoughtful. As sits, apparently oblivious to the eyes, a short, red-haired man rises from a table across the room and starts casually picking his way toward the blonde. H'vier, watching a little more closely than is probably appropriate, notices the motion of the red-haired man toward where the yellow-sweatered woman is sitting. He is, of course, much more attractive. If he does say so himself. Which he doesn't, because he's not talking. But he does start making his way over there, weaving a little less casually through tables and people to get to the table around the same time as Mr Red. "Dearheart. Sorry I'm late. Got held up. Damned bronze took forever picking out his meal." H'vier slides right into the other side of the booth and glances at the other man with one brow arched. "Can we help you?" He doesn't need to say so. The red-head looks like he belongs in a record room, not on the back of a green dragon, as his knot would indicate. Mr. Red, by comparison to the dashing H'vier, is obviously no competition for his muscles. So it's with a stutter and an exceptionally awkward look between blonde and brunette that he manages, "N-no, n-nothing. Fine. I'm fine." His finger seeming to take on an abashed life of its own as it points to himself in a 'who me?' way. Then he's making a quick exit, blushing nearly to the color of his hair. Tayte must be used to being approached in bars for the fact that they were coming didn't garner her attention, but the series of events that leaves her slightly wide-eyed and blinking at H'vier and after the departing greenrider certainly catch her off guard. "H'vier." Her alto has natural warmth, but it's colored with her surprise. "Hi." Once Red has made his exit, H'vier glances at the drinks laid before the woman, setting his own down on the table since he obviously doesn't plan on getting back up and leaving now that he's here. It's not like he came over here to be chivalrous or something. He doesn't seem very surprised that she knows his name, either. "Now, I know I know you from Ista, gorgeous. But I can't remember your name. I do remember something about 'titties,'" he says with a gesture and not at all hidden look at hers, "but I don't think I've seen yours." One can see how this might confuse him. H'vier's words seem to require a drink, for one of the martinis is plucked up and downed with a more than respectable lack of flinching. Clearly, she's a pro at this. Setting the glass back on the table reveals the cheeks that were momentarily obscured and now touched with a blush between her freckles. "Ista. The bar. You remember?" A single brow rises in inquiry as she finds her way back to casual, "I worked there. Tah-tee." The fact that she remembers his name among the hundreds she served says he was there often enough to have overheard her nickname more than once. "And I'm sorry you think that. I didn't realize they were so unremarkable. But then," She glances to the glasses, "We were a little drunk." Apparently there's no game playing to be had tonight. Oh, the thinks she could've done with that. "It's Tayte, really." He might not be the brightest man on Pern but H'vier isn't exactly slow, either. There is recognition when she clarifies the nickname. That's it. But there's also a furrowed brow as his gaze drops back down, shamelessly, to her breasts. "Huh," is all he says at first, clearly trying to recall what he's having difficulty remembering. "I'm not usually that drunk. Must have been after a bad flight." Any flight that Reisoth doesn't win is, of course, a bad flight. "You wouldn't fancy showing me again, would you?" Tayte's elbows settle on the tabletop, her chin coming to rest on laced fingers, "I guess it's been long enough that you don't remember I'm not that kind of girl." Her blush intensifies as she's forced to add, "Anymore. But," And isn't a but always promising when placed so close to a 'no'? "I might be able to find you someone. You like curvy blondes, right?" Like her, for instance. She leans forward then, reaching out a hand to snag her fingers on his knot, giving it a little tug, "How long have you been here anyway? I heard you transferred... sometime." When her fingers leave his shoulder, they head for one of her glasses. "All girls are that kind of girl if you ask enough." Which is precisely the line of thinking that's probably kept H'vier from ever settling down with one in particular. "I really don't need help, doll. But your loss, someone else's gain." Many years of rejection have, obviously, made him pretty adept at dealing with it, if not taking any responsibility for it. "Got transferred a bit before that awful fucking flight. If not for some other incompetent bronze, I'd be this sharding place's Weyrleader." Bitch, bitch, bitch. "When did you get here?" Now Tayte's chin settles in only one hand, because the other is busy holding a martini. "How would you know, Havi?" Her alto is almost affectionate, certainly warmly amused. "If this is an example of how you operate, I'd be surprised if you've yet proven your point first hand." She's wearing no knot, as she never did at Ista either, but for a regular like him, it wouldn't be any kind of secret that she's a vintner. "Fall. Just in time for winter to come on. I love the weather," playful sarcasm laces her tone. "I'm sure you and Reisoth would have made brilliant Weyrleaders," Hard to tell here from her expression if she's teasing or not. "Maybe if you'd won, I'd've shown you my tits again. I hear women just wander into Weyrleaders' beds around here." The bronzerider has little more than a snort for her questioning his methods. He won't be easily deterred from them. Because they might suck, but they get enough results to keep from discouraging him. "Shards, I hate the weather here. But we get back home often enough to make up for it." He isn't exactly winter pale or anything so he probably gets back more often than he should. H'vier looks at her breasts again, this time with a small frown. "How about if we win the next, hmm? You can show them to me then." Tayte considers the proposition, or at least pretends to well enough that it's hard to tell the difference. She sips on her martini making little 'hm' noises, expression pensive. "Just my breasts?" The glass is set down and she leans forward a little bit, "Take me to Ista next seven, for a few hours on the beach and I'll consider letting you see them. I need some sun. Unless you're so confident in Reisoth's abilities that you'd pass up what might be a surer thing?" Or at least, a sooner one. "I'm very confident in Reisoth, make no mistake. He's smarter than all these other damned bronzes combined." Someone might think H'vier is holding a grudge or something! "But I'll take you to Ista. Next seven's a lot sooner than whenever one of those golds'll decide to pop up again. And if you want to show me more than that, it's not like I'm going to complain." If there was a point to be made here, he would definitely be missing it. "Do you think about anything other than getting laid?" Tayte's words are accompanied by laughter, and her smile is bright. No wonder he won her over once. "You, your dragon, so far it's nothing but the needs of satisfying your manhood. What else do you do here? Just fly your drills and satisfy yourself?" There's a raise of her brows, suggestive, with a sassy edge to her smile. "I think about plenty of stuff that isn't getting laid. But most of it isn't really anything I need to go talking about with just anyone. I drill, I do my job. Never even fucked my wingleader." Which is apparently worth noting from his point of view. One might also assume that means that his wingleader is female. "Don't usually come here to find people to just talk to, though. And one of the great things about getting laid is all the time afterwards that you'd not thinking about getting laid." "Oh, come now," Tayte's scold is joking, "I'm not just anyone." She lifts her drink, blinking prettily over its rim. "I've seen you with your pants down." Although, the way he talks of women? Maybe that is just anyone! After a sip, she asks, once again thoughtful, though there's still that edge of amusement that says she might not be totally serious, "So you're saying that if I were to be there for pillow talk, you might have more to talk to me about than just gold flights your bronze didn't win and women you didn't sleep with?" "You talk to a lot of people," is H'vier's excuse for excluding her from his more mundane talking points. Also might have something to do with the fact that she's a she. The bronzerider considers her for a few moments, then downs the rest of the drink he's been nursing. "Possibly. Really only one way to find out, though, isn't there." H'vier offers a quick smile, then starts sliding his way back out of the booth. "If you'll excuse me, though, that lovely young lady over there has been making eyes at me for awhile and I think I should introduce myself." He lifts his glass but doesn't really wait for a dismissal before he's on his way. |
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