View source for Logs:A Second Meeting at the Lava Lounge

{{ Log
| who = Persie, N'thei
| where = Lava Lounge
| what = 
| when = Day 12, Month 7, Turn 13, Interval 10
| gamedate = 2007.09.18
| quote = 
| weather = 
| categories = General
| mentions = 
| icons = 
| log = Quieter tonight, the place seems very lounge-ish when it's this empty, just a couple of people lined at the bar and a very tanned couple crammed into a corner table. N'thei's at a slightly more central table, leaned back on the rear legs of his chair with his heels resting on the lip of his table, placed in such a way that he can watch the ladder-- but not too overtly. He has a drink, but it looks like it's been sitting there for a while; though he's once again playing cards, this time it's solo.

"I'm coming, Marcus!" calls a familiar female voice from down the ladder, a little huff of breath at the end to show that she is indeed starting climb. The bartender rolls his eyes and a moment latter Persie's blonde head appears. "I'm here. Oh!" Her foot catches on the last rung as she steps into the room, turning that step into a bit of a trip. But then she's righted herself and a quick scan around the rather unpopulated room has her forgetting Marcus entirely as her eyes set on the big man sitting alone with his drink and his cards. "Wall!" And there's a big smile, too.

N'thei starts out with a smile of his own, a bright one even, but then Persie trips and he half-starts out of his chair as if there's even the remotest possibility that he could cross the room in time to be of any use. But then she's righted herself, and he drops back into his seat with a slightly more questioning smile; "Are you sure you haven't had your limit already?"

"I haven't had a one," Persie promises, crossing the room to N'thei's table. "I just got here." And then there's a self-aware laugh as she adds, "Well, I suppose you just saw that, but I guess I could have been here before and left and come back. Though if you've been here a long while, you might know that didn't happen." She realizes she's babbling a bit and that last word gets clipped as she closes her mouth. At least for a brief moment. "It was my sandal. It got caught. They're not really made for ladders." Her smiles widens and she sets a hand on back of the chair by N'thei's. "Are you meeting someone? Are your card buddies coming?" she asks, a tip of her blonde head toward the deck.

"So. This is you sober." N'thei looks impressed, even widens his eyes in an effort to display as much. He glances to the hand on the chair-back, then lowers his forehead to indicate it's all hers, have a seat, make yourself at home, et cetera-- all in a nod and a subdued but welcoming smile. "Maybe. But I wouldn't bet on it." He even puts down his cards to go through the motions of a ba-dum-ching with his two index fingers on the chair, the edge of his cup for the high-hat.

"Oh," Persie replies, her smiling tightening sheepishly. "Yeah, this is me sober. When I'm drunk I'm more..." She abandons all that. "What are you doing back so soon?" She drops into the seat, a sprawling of limbs with her legs stretched out and an elbow hooked over the back of the chair. "You came back to try one of those pink things, didn't you. You wanted one but were embarrassed to drink it in front of me. I know. It's ok. You can admit it." Her eyes crinkle as her grin goes broad and teasing.

N'thei turns the tables promptly; "What are /you/ doing back so soon? Are you--" He leans closer, over his elbows on the table. "Are you a lush?" With very serious eyes, a very somberly straight face... that gives way to the twitching at the corner of his mouth, the very serious eyes traipsing briefly upward to the crook of Persie's elbow as he withdraws back into his chair. "You caught me. I'm having nerve drinks right now, working up the courage to order the purple umbrella beverage."

"I am," Persie says with a laugh. "Well, I'm not a -lush- really. I don't get drunk all the time. That would make me a lush. Just having a drink doesn't... right?" She purses her lips in a quick pout. "I don't really want to be a lush. I just like to get out and meet people and have a drink. And Marcus would miss me, I'm sure," she adds in, tossing a big, theatrical wink at the bartender who really doesn't look like he could care less if she never walked into his bar again. Then she shoots a brief, sly look at N'thei and calls, "Hey Marcus, we're gonna need two of those purple-pink fruity-winey things with umbrellas."

"Just having a drink doesn't." N'thei takes a drink, like he needs to prove this point, and then sets his glass away again, meanwhile looks a bit charmed by the whole pout and wink routine. "One," he calls promptly afterward. "One." And he holds up one big finger toward the bar to try and drive home the point for Marcus. "Unless you plan on double-fisting your drink tonight?"

"Come on, Wall. Be a man," Persie says, making her best (or maybe its her worst) gruff face, pale brows down, chin jutted out. She pulls her arm from over the back of the chair to aim a playful fist at N'thei's arm. "You're strong enough to handle a... what was it? A foofy drink?"

N'thei corrects, "Fluffy." And he looks dubious about it, even looks hurt in a very childish way while he rubs his punched arm with his palm. "I'm delicate, missy. Watch where you aim those pointy little mitts of yours." He rolls up his sleeve a few inches, craning his neck to try to see if Persie's left a bruise, but the meaty arm's unscathed (unsurprisingly).

Persie grins at him, plainly entertained by the show he's made of her mighty strength. She brandishes that pointy fist again with with a narrowed eye and a lop-sided smile. Then it all disappears in a flash and she's flopped her arm over the chair again and planted the other elbow on the table. "Ya know, if I'd know you were going to wuss out, I'd have ordered something else." Sigh. And then a quick glance and a lift of her brow to see if there's anyway he's taken this oh-so-subtle bait.

"Are you going to cry?" N'thei smiles hopefully at the idea, perks right back up while he rolls his sleeve right back down. With a cheeky smile, he peers at Persie's expression, fishing for any sign she might shed a sniffle over something so trite, but he lets up after only a moment or two; "I will try this monstrosity of a beverage, but I commit to nothing more than a taste. Hm?"

Oh, but Persie is happy to oblige. In the few beats between her glance and his acquiescence, her lips start to turn downward and she very adroitly executes a little chin quiver. And then he does agree and her smile lights up again. "I'll take it," she says, sitting up straighter and she sticking out a hand to shake on it. "So how've you been, Wall?"

N'thei's eyebrows creep on upwards at the performance; "Impressive. I can see I'll have to tread lighter or be utterly manipulated." For now, he's happy enough to shake hands, takes the offered one of Persie's and gives it a very firm but brief shake. "I've been about the same as ever. But you don't know how that is, so that's not much use for an answer, is it?" He smiles right back, helpful.

"Aw, I'm not manipulative," Persie says, pouting a bit again before she's even let his hand go. But then she pauses, fingers still hanging in the air. "Oh... was that manipulative? Because I made a face?" And now her brows are pressing together and she looks quite honestly troubled. "I didn't mean to. I don't want to be manipulative. You don't really think that, do you?" That he answered her question seems to be totally overlooked, as does the arrival of her fluffy drink.

Clearing his throat belatedly, N'thei back-pedals from his serious position. "It was a joke, Persie. I don't think you're manipulative? I don't even know you well enough to call you manipulative, really." He looks up just in time to flicker a grateful smile to Marcus for the arrival of the drinks, just in time to lay a mark in the man's palm, then in time to look back at the knitted brows with a softening smile. "Relax. I was kidding. Drink." And he slides one umbrella-laden cup of fluff toward the greenrider.

At his bidding, Persie's shoulders drop obediently and she releases back into her chair. "I'm sorry," she says, wearing a small and very sheepish smile as she reaches for the drink. "I just... I'd never thought about it before." Her teeth start to work her lip before she relizes that she's so obviously started thinking about it again. After that the smile she flashes is apologetic and then hidden as she takes a drink. "Thanks, by the way," she says, lifting the glass a little before setting it down. "What were we talking about?"

N'thei plays with his drink, which may be as close as he gets to drinking his drink, at least in the immediate future. "We were talking about something?" He casts about for the subject, though notably it's with eyes on the gnawed lip and a continued crease in his forehead. "Are you always so... sensitive... like that? Purely for the sake of conversation." He pops up the purple umbrella with one hand, twirls it between his thumb and index finger in an utterly dainty maneuver.

"Am I..." Persie asks, eyes growing a little wider. "Oh." It's quiet, bashful. "I don't know. Is that bad?" Her eyes search over his face, that crease of his forehead, before the move for the umbrella steals her attention. "I just hadn't thought about it." She watches the twirl of purple with a kind of unseeing gaze. "Do you think that maybe everyone is sort of manipulative? I mean, if you tell a joke, you tell it for the laugh. Or if you don't say something because you don't want to hurt someone's feelings or if you smile at someone hoping that they smile back, is that manipulative?" She slips a look at him, honest and wondering.

N'thei looks like he's thinking about it, or at least pretending he is-- which really goes right along with the thread of conversation, doesn't it? He eyes the twirling bit of purple frill, grazes it along the opposite index finger till it reaches a standstill, lips pursed meanwhile; "I think it's only manipulative if you do it falsely, to evoke an emotion you wouldn't otherwise have access to. E.g., you pout to make a person pity you, even though really you're not worthy of pity. Hm?"

Persie's brow starts to crease. "I don't think I understand," she murmurs. "So you mean it's manipulative to make someone think something that isn't true? But what about when a boy falls down and doesn't cry because he wants his friends to think he's tough, that it didn't hurt? I mean, it doesn't hurt less." Then she frowns sharply, "But maybe that's a bad example." Her lips purse again and she takes up her glass for another sip, then pushes it toward him, starting to smile again. "I don't mean to be a downer. You should try the fluffy thing." But as the grin grows stronger, she laughs. "Shards, now I'm afraid to smile. I keep wondering why I'm smiling."

"Not precisely." N'thei tries again; "That's pride. Manipulative is... too heavy a subject for pink drinks." Folding the umbrella, he tucks it behind one ear, purple end toward his browline, and peers down into the glass in all its fruity devilishness. "You're smiling because you're overwhelmed by my radiant charm. It smells like an orchard exploded in here." That with the glass just below his nose, to be followed by a tentative sip.

Now that -does- make Persie smile, the umbrella slipped behind his ear so very much at odds with his appearance. The giggle that starts for it become warmer as he explains her reactions. "Yes, that must be it. And because I'm having a nice time. I rather hoped I might run into you again," she admits. And the a light goes off above her head and she jumps, jerking upright in her chair. "Oh! You! I... The thing." Yes, Persie, very descriptive. "The tequilla and the glasses and the salt and that adorable little cellar. That was you, wasn't it," she beams at him. "I mean, I didn't just figure it out, but I just thought of it. It -was- you, wasn't it?" Oh yes, she's wearing a big silly grin now.

Speaking of manipulative, N'thei blinks blankly at the question, disjointed as it is, and slants his head to one side with a come-again smile. "The tequila and the glasses and the what-now?" But deception doesn't stand a chance in the face of a big silly grin. Putting his own fluffy drink away-- far away! He must not be a fan. Putting his drink away, he leans more on his elbows with steepled fingers hiding his own mouth, though the crinkle at the corners of his eyes must betray the return of a smile. "It was a token of gratitude. You were charming and pleasant and appreciated. Did you get completely smashed? I imagined you completely smashed."

Persie's eyebrows start to creep up as he feigns innocence of the whole thing, but she must sense his smile as her surprised look eases into something knowing. "It -was- you," she gets in before he explains. But with that explanation of his there can be no mistaking the warmth of her smile, perhaps even a little coy by the way she tries to hold it back with her teeth in her lip. By the end she's slipped her own tabled elbow a little closer to his, leaning in. "And what do you think I'm like when I'm completely smashed?" she asks, her playfulness taking on a quietly flirtatious quality.

Brows raised over now rather bright gray eyes, N'thei asks, "Do you have a great many people with cause to send liquor and its accessories? A string of admirers in every bar on the northern continent?" At Persie's question, he contemplates more studiously, now looking from the nearer elbow to the pale hair to the fluffy drink, then back around to directly at the greenrider. "Clumsy." Long pause. "But cute."

Persie sets her chin to her hand, skewing her smile to the side but not lessening it. "I'm not clumsy but cute now?" she asks. "Did you miss my entrance?" There's a little chuckle for that, then she shakes her head. "I don't -think- I have any admirers. I mean, I guessed it was from you right off but you didn't sign it or anything and I didn't want to be... What's that word? Presum-uous? No, that's not right." But it doesn't seem to bother her too much. She's too busy looking back at him now anyway.

N'thei lowers one hand to trace the outline of P-T on the table in front of him, catches just enough water from the perspiration outside his glass of fluff to leave a momentary impression; "Presumptuous. And I am, so no offense taken." And he shrugs at that, looking toward the ladder briefly while he assures, "I did not miss your entrance. You are clumsy. But cute. And I was charmed, so it must be working, hm?"

She tucks her lips in to wet them as she glances down at the water and letters and the hand that makes them. "Well, I wasn't out to charm you, but I'm happy I have," Persie confides. Her teeth are tugging at her smile again and she lets out a little laugh, this one not her usual chuckle but instead rather breathy and awkward sounding, anxious. She covers it up quickly enough, flicking her eyes back up to him. "You're presumptuous?"

"I am." N'thei scrapes back his chair at the same time, palms flat to the table and picking up the last of the water trail. "I /presume/ that we could stay here a while, flirt, have a few drinks, make chit-chat, possibly I'd try to kiss you after a little while, probably you'd let me." The 'but' is set to action, and he stands all at once. "Instead, I'm going to leave early, on the /presumption/ that I can see you again."

Persie sits back as he pushes his chair out, her smile dropping and eyes wide and perhaps even a little hurt that he's backing off so abruptly. But then he goes on delineating his presumptions and her eyes start to narrow again as a little curl tugs at her lips. "Why is it that you kissing me is 'possible' but me kissing you is 'probable'?" she asks up at him. It can be odd the things that stand out to her and what she overlooks. Indeed, it almost seems as if she's missed the last bit completely.

N'thei asks with a pause, "Is it improbable?" Not that he sounds worried. No, he just goes on with his preparations, folds his coat over his forearm, lays another partial mark on the edge of the table by his long abandoned drink. "Ah. I don't think Wyaeth will bear me anywhere if I go around like this." And he pulls the umbrella out from behind his ear, unfurls it, and sets it upside down just next to Persie's elbow; "Just say something along the lines of, 'Of course you can see me again. I'm not invisible, am I?' Hm?"

She just watches him, grinning, and when he puts down the umbrella she takes it up, putting the blunt end to the center of her smiling lower lip and twirling it for a second. "Of course you can see me again," Persie tells him, eyes shining happily. She leaves off the invisible part.

N'thei smiles, sparkly-like, and thinks about it for a moment, clear by that could-kiss-someone look on his face-- he's there, she's there, her side of the table, the whole umbrella proximity issue-- but, again, no. He raps the ends of his fingers lightly on the edge of the table before straightening up with a conclusive, "Good. Very good." Before there's time to make any definitive plans, he's headed ladder-wards.

Persie is caught rather rapt by that odd expression her wears --the sparkling eyes, the hesitation-- and she doesn't seem any less delighted with his final reaction. It makes her giggle. "Very good," she answers back with a decisive nod. Then he's off and she watches until he's gone then flops back in her chair and pops the little umbrella open again. Giving it a twirl she echoes once more, this time to herself, "Very good."


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