Logs:Quint Charming
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| RL Date: 18 September, 2015 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Quint |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Fresh from Harper Hall, Journeyman Quint chooses the wrong assistant headwoman to pump for information. |
| Where: Craft Complex, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 11, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Heavy, driving rain makes everything a wet and muddy mess today. |
| Mentions: Jounine/Mentions |
| The rain doesn't make for a very auspicious nor grand arrival; in fact, the trio of harpers, when they arrive a'dragonback, are wet, bedraggled, and in a hurry to get out of the ill weather. There are trunks and boxes to transport, of course -- a task left to the pair of apprentices -- while the Journeyman -- Quintus -- prowls into the complex in search of someone in charge, or someone that at least looks like they're in charge -- sharp eyes taking note of the shoulder knots of those he passes. Halfway to the opening that leads out to the bowl and the rain, Jocelyn changes her gait from purposeful stride to neat side-step, angling against the far wall as the bedraggled harpers hurry in. As wet footwear tracks over the floor, her lips purse into a half-scowl, eyes lifting to the ceiling with an annoyed exhale. With a neatly tied stack of papers tucked securely under one arm and a pencil askew behind an ear, she looks more the part of an irritated records keeper than headwoman's assistant. But that knot's there for those who may be looking, even as she's tap-tapping one boot while waiting for them to clear the near part of the passage. Clear, but not entirely clear; Quintus pauses as his eyes travel over Jocelyn, taking in her knot first, with an expression of satisfaction -- to the pile of papers and the irritated expression with a infinitesimal adjustment downwards in the brightness of his demeanor. "Ahh, my good lady, just the woman I've been looking for," he says, turning fully back to stand, dripping, next to her, as he extends a hand. "Quintus. Journeyman, of Harper. I was told there'd been arrangements for our accommodations?" Jocelyn's own gaze tracks over Quintus in a quick once-over, not quite managing to hide her grimace as she stares pointedly where he's dripping onto the floor nearby. "Harper Quintus, " she repeats, turning slightly to gesture down the hall. "Workrooms are that way, " another gesture toward the residential area, "and there should be a space for your apprentices to room together." Either general directions for communal living count as arrangements, or the tiny micro-climate of rain in the cavern has completely wrested her attention from further elaboration. Pale eyes drop to the offered hand, which she reaches out to take in a firm, brisk grip. "Jocelyn. I'm one of the assistant headwomen." He's attentive, as all Harpers surely are; Quintus nods in all the right places as she provides information, and his grip of her hand matches her firmness almost precisely before releasing the grip. "A pleasure to meet you. And so efficient! I'm sure the apprentices will love whatever they're given," is said without a trace of amusement. "Now, if only you'd abated the weather in preparation for our arrival, it would've been perfect," he's grinning now, with an effortless charm. That effortless charm is met with a lifted eyebrow and a skeptical look. "As if any of us can control what the elements do out there, " Jocelyn sniffs in reply, leaning slightly to the side to watch the path of the apprentices and nod in the direction of the hearth. "You'll probably want to dry off if you plan to stay any longer than a few minutes." It's rather curt, somewhat nonchalant, but there's an expectant pause on her end soon after for him to provide her some information. Quintus makes a noise like he's chastened by her response, even dropping his gaze in studied consternation for a moment. "Too right, my good woman." Clearly it's a ruse, however, since his easy smile is back in place a beat later: "Ought to," he acknowledges, and yet he doesn't move in that direction, not yet. "A Turn, two? I'm betting. Though I'm a slave to the Hall's whims, of course, and I wouldn't presume to guess, but I think at least more than a few minutes," with a grin. "Any tips for a newcomer?" he asks, hopefully. Jocelyn, free hand settling on her hip, looks less than amused by his good-humored exterior. Dryly, "You wouldn't presume to guess, but you'll bet on a turn or two. I'm no harper, but that rather sounds like the same thing." An impatient huff escapes her at his hopeful request, followed by a brief head-shake. "I could tell you to eat lunch on the early side of midday if you want to beat the rush, " she replies after a moment, "or to wear the proper winter wear in the coming months." But those are common, sensible things, and perhaps not the sort of tip he's seeking. "No, no. Entirely different things," Quintus assures her, with a fair amount of certainty. "A bet is a gut feel, an emotional feeling, however much people like to think it logical." He manages not to look overly disappointed by the sorts of tips she gives; instead, after she's spoken, he asks, "And your Headwoman? How do you find her?" "Funny, some people seem to go with their instincts when they're asked to guess, " but the headwoman's assistant drops the topic in favor of addressing his next query, expression pinching as she draws her stack of papers more tightly to her side. "You might try her office. The easiest way for you to find Jounine quickly might be to ask one of us since we tend to keep up with most of her schedule during working hours on a day-to-day basis." One boot resumes its tapping against the floor, even as her brow knits slightly. "If there's anything else you need immediately ... ?" There's a pointed glance toward the passage to the bowl. "That," Quintus replies, with a lift of his finger, all teacher-like, "Is most people's mistake," with an easy grin. If he seems overly disappointed at the answer from the assistant headwoman of her boss, it's covered in the tip of his head. "You've been an absolute dream. I couldn't dream of asking more of you. I'd best take your advice about drying off." He takes a step back, presumably to give her room, then, "A pleasure meeting you, Jocelyn. I'll be sure to see you around," is murmured, before he turns on a heel and heads towards the common area to, presumably, locate his apprentices and his room. Jocelyn tips her head to return his polite-enough nod, taking in that easy grin and blithe farewell with a cool, "A good evening to you, harper Quintus." She remains leaning against the wall for some moments after he departs, observing his path with a narrow look before resuming her walk toward the bowl, perhaps in hopes of finding a break in the rain. |
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