Logs:Shove!

Shove!
RL Date: 3 September, 2015
Who: H'vier, T'mic
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: H'vier is broody. T'mic has a moment that almost looks like temper, but it's short.

When: Day 21, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10)

Mentions: Faryn/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions

OOC Notes: Backdated.


Inner Caverns, High Reaches Weyr Within the labyrinth of interconnected chambers that make up the inner caverns, this large, long cavern serves both as a crossroads and a comfortable place for weyrfolk to sit, talk, and keep a nosy eye out for who's going where. Colorful, seasonal tapestries add warmth to the smooth walls and reduce echoes, while large niches house clusters of chairs, and a waist-high stone shelf along one wall provides a perch for drinks or work for residents on the go. Worn brass hooks often hold jackets or other outerwear with workboots stationed beneath, the transitory nature of the cavern lending itself to being treated as a sort of communal foyer where snowy or muddy gear can be kept outside of living quarters. Smaller, higher niches at regular intervals hold glowbaskets kept fresh during the daytime and allowed to dim somewhat at night. Summer evenings at High Reaches, especially warm, if muggy, ones like this, find many people spending their time outside, though of course, the caverns are always busy with the comings and goings and daily routines of residents. And even some who are outside of routine, like Jorrth's rider. At the nighthearth, T'mic is clearing up the table he'd only just finished occupying. The hide he was reading is tucked away in an old bag hanging from those broad shoulders of his by a worn strap. The chair he was sitting on is pushed back in to its table; the chair he was using as a footrest, likewise. A final check, the bluerider bending sideways at the waist to see if anything's been dropped that's thus far evaded him, and, when reassured, he turns and steps out into the maze of the lower caverns. Drinking alcohol tends to make a person have to use the latrines a little more often than they might otherwise. That's where H'vier is coming from just now, not the steadiest he's ever been on his feet, but obviously not currently in need of assistance. Unfortunately alcohol doesn't lend itself well to quick reactions and H'vier runs straight into the solid bluerider that appears in front of him even if he tries to swerve around him. "Shard it! Watch where the fuck you're going!" Ever the charmer, this H'vier. T'mic is the guy you'll bump into, and he says, 'Sorry'. Except it only gets so far as "Sor-" and a slight shift of his weight on his feet to accommodate the bump, and by then he's turned to the one who bumped him. His heart's on his sleeve. And face. There's recognition. There's memory. And then there's a frown and a good, hard, two-handed shove. When H'vier bumps into people, or people bump into H'vier, it doesn't often end up in him being the one who's shoved. It takes his booze-slowed mind a second to realize what's happening, stance shifting awkwardly as one foot steps back in an attempt to keep himself from losing his balance. He even gropes a hand out to the side as though to catch the wall that he doesn't immediately find. His expression darkens when he looks at the bluerider's face. He looks like he wants to keep swearing, but nothing actually comes out. "Shit," says T'mic no sooner than the shove is executed. That tell-all face: realisation, now. And he's grabbing for the bronzerider now, but in a steadying way. Grabbing, and saying, "Shit," again, and also, "Sorry," and if he manages to lay hands on H'vier without getting punched or anything, chances are good he might even try dust the other man's shoulders off a bit - even though the apology that soon followed up realisation is fading into something more serious. Perhaps surprisingly, H'vier doesn't swing any fists at the younger man, but he does kind of pull away from the more helpful grabbing. "The fuck is wrong with you," is more accusation than question, and probably for the previous shoving more than what T'mic is attempting now. So T'mic, he withdraws his hands, watching H'vier's posture a moment before crossing them - loosely - over his chest. It makes his chest and shoulders look all the bigger. And then he tilts his head a down a bit, so he can look disapproving. "Shouldn't have pushed you," he says first. Next, with a bit of a twitch of his head, "You can't just go around grabbing girls. No excuse." "No," H'vier says, firm and annoyed. "You shouldn't've." The rest of what T'mic says to him doesn't help much, but perhaps only because it's confusing to his intoxicated mind. "What girls? I haven't even seen any girls worth grabbing." Since he left Snowasis, presumably. The cant of his head, the flattening of his lips, the raising of his eyebrows, it all says that T'mic doesn't believe H'vier even a little. "Any girls." His eyes are narrowing again, and the bluerider straightens up, his feet shifting a bit, testing his weight. "Faryn or any of them." A nod, now that he's settled on a response. He has to think about that for a second, still looking as though T'mic might very well be speaking another language. Then it must click. "The skinny brunette that tried to stab me, you mean?" H'vier might be exaggerating about that supposed attempt, but maybe it's actually how he remembers it. "Lots of girls like being grabbed. Should try it sometime." He doesn't try to say that Faryn enjoyed it, anyway. "Not when they don't want it, they don't," says T'mic, evenly. His arms stay in that loosely crossed position. He neatly ignores anything about stabbing, or his thoughts on the matter. "And you can't just go around doing it." The large bronzerider heaves a sigh. "Fine, whatever," says H'vier, lurching into movement toward the nighthearth's cavern rather than continuing along his way back to the Snowasis. There will be klah fetched before he finds a seat to droop into should T'mic stay out of his way. T'mic does. He's made his point, after all. Surely he should go celebrate, or at least carry on. He shifts that shoulder bag like he's going to. But somehow, the bluerider winds up by H'vier's chair. "Are things... Okay?" "Okay?" H'vier repeats the word like it's some foreign concept that he's having a hard time relating to. "No," he finally says, glancing up at T'mic and then down at his klah. "But it's not so bad that I need a nanny." It's a not so subtle hint to move. That tell-all face? Yeah, it's telling concern right then and there. T'mic doesn't move, but to shrug. "Well, sure." He nods, and shifts his weight onto one leg, at rest. "But I'm not a nanny." Anymore. "I'll be fine." Probably. H'vier might not say if he thought he'd be otherwise, granted. "You need something else from me, kid? Said I wouldn't go grabbing anyone. Even if they piss me off again." He looks at the bluerider. "She was being a bitch, you know. Both of them were." It's some minor justification for his actions. "Still not a reason," isn't really argumentative now. "She can be..." that big forehead gets a wrinkle in it, "difficult sometimes. Both of them?" Which is a new request, rather than extended assumption on personalities. And whatever T'mic apparently still needs won't even be touched on. "K'zin." H'vier says the name with little feeling now, too... whatever he is to be anything but neutral. "They were being dicks about me--" He pauses, brows furrowing at the bluerider before he looks down at his klah. "About me being like this, I suppose. So I stopped." And almost got stabbed by a fork. How is that fair! "Oh." T'mic knows that bronzerider, of course, if not personally. He considers this bronzerider before him now, leaning his weight onto his opposite foot, and then looking off toward the table, the ground, something that isn't just him staring at H'vier. "What'd they say?" H'vier sighs at the last question and something in his expression starts to shut down. "Don't you have anything better to do?" Like this girl of his, maybe. "Let a man drink his klah in peace." T'mic shrugs, but centres his weight on his feet, and adjusts the strap of that bag over his shoulder. "Enjoy your klah, then." And he goes.

Comments

Squishy (15:54, 3 September 2015 (PDT)) said...

I'm trying to figure out how to perfectly verbalize just how much I loved reading this, and I cannot formulate the words.

-slow clap- You two rock!

Jo (16:35, 3 September 2015 (PDT)) said...

This was pure fucking gold. T'mic was so brave in this scene to go up against Havi. Defending his lady~ XD

T'mic (16:43, 3 September 2015 (PDT)) said...

Don't call her that, it makes her run away!

Faryn (16:56, 3 September 2015 (PDT)) said...

TOO LATE