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{{Log
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|type=Log
|who = Barnabas, H'vier, Lourna, Val
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = H'vier tries his luck with Lourna. Val and Bones make it difficult. 
| when = Day 13, Month 11, Turn 30
|day=13
|month=11
|turn=30
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| gamedate = 2013.01.22
| quote = "Oh, she'll be very naughty by the time I'm done with her."
| weather = 
| categories = General
| mentions = 
| ooc = 
| icons = val.jpg, h'vier rar.jpg, barnabas Grumpybones.jpg, Lourna.jpg
| log = 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.
----
In that perfect hour of night when seats start filling and volume steadily rises, Bones enters the snowasis stinking of warm wet gardening soil. Regular enough figure by now to no longer earn quite as much open gawking from the patrons, the kicking of his boots against the stoney ground below sees clumps of his workday earth shed from the soles, and still some turn to look and laugh under their breath. The gardener pays the rubberneckers no mind, shoulders slumped and hair hanging in his face, meandering his way up to the bar and crashing heavily onto a stool. Klah was his regular poison, and after getting the bartender's attention, two steaming cups are slid in front of him. Long day at the office.

Miracle of miracles, H'vier is making his way into the Snowasis as well. Any looks he gets are likely of a different sort, though. Few people laugh at a guy like H'vier when he's got that glowering look on his scruffy face. They just try to stay out of his way. The bronzerider's path leads him directly to the bar, not too far down from Barnabas even if he doesn't seem to have noticed the other man just yet. It's whiskey that he asks for, though, with the understanding that he may need another shortly.

Why is Lourna here? Who cares? She simply is, seated not at the bar, but at one of the nearby tables nursing a bowl of--something. Food, one might imagine, and a cup of something also equally unidentifiable without closer inspection. By the way that she sips lightly at it, it can be safely inferred that it isn't water. She picks at the food with the sort of bored determination of someone here for the sake of getting away from something rather than the insistence of being here for a good meal. Lourna's dark, olive green eyes make note of the two men with half-concealed interest, but she keeps her glances to a minimum to avoid immediate attention from either rider or gardener.

Bones' first cup is less drunk and more inhaled, the beverage might as well having been served to him in a shotglass for how long it lasts. It seems to serve it's purpose, the cretinous creature giving a shudder at his shoulders as klah begions to course through him. "Ahhhhhh!" Refreshed enough now to bring a palm to his forehead and sweep black dreads out of his face, white smile no longer hidden underneath. His next mug is taken more gingerly, small sips only needed every once in a while to keep him vertical.

While H'vier works on his first glass, he turns to take in the rest of the Snowasis' patrons, expression still sour but softening somewhat as the fire of the whiskey starts to soothe away at least some of his agitation. Inevitably his dark gaze lands on the attractive young Lourna and it lingers there while he finishes. Once he has a fresh drink in hand, the bronzerider is pushing himself away from the bar and heading in her direction. "You look like you could use some company," he says in place of a proper greeting as he pulls out the chair opposite her and starts to settle himself into it.

It takes the presently absorbed in her own thoughts youth to realize that the comment is directed at her, but it sinks in quickly enough when H'vier is suddenly tugging the chair out to seat himself across from her. Lourna neither blushes, stutters, or quibbles over his approach. Instead, a faint smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, more bemused than anything else. "I would not say no. I'd rather someone who was able to properly tool leather. I don't suppose you have any artistic talent, and also good with your hands?" She sounds rather doubtful, but in a humorous manner rather than demeaning. Uttering a sigh, she lifts the cup to her lips, takes a deeper drink from its contents.

Swiveling in his seat, the gardener looks out into the dimly lit snowasis for the first time since he entered. Now with a clearer head, he's able to enjoy his time people watching. At first his eyes shoot to the door, where another group of weyrfolk pour in to likely enjoy themselves over drunken comradery. Then, his focus moves to the darkened corners where those more inclined to ''want'' to stay hidden congregate. Nothing of much interest there. His third glance is the one that finds him solid gold people watching potential. The new bronzerider H'vier is taking a seat across from a girl he hasn't met before. Blonde, buxum, alone? "Yeah, there's no way H'vier can pass up that one." He chuckles quietly to himself, perhaps a little harshly judging H'vier's character.

"Good," says H'vier since he's sitting anyway. It leaves one to wonder what he'd have done if she'd said no. "I'm amazing with my hands, darling. Not sure about ''artistic'' but I manage straps well enough. H'vier. Bronze Reisoth's." Of course he's going to point out that he's a bronzerider. That's just the sort of guy he is. A bronzerider. He sets his glass down on the table after another drink, grins at her, and says, "Seems kind of specific, though. I could just buy you a drink and I can show you what my hands can do later."

It would seem that, for the moment, Lourna is quite content to pretend to be a rather /dumb/ buxom blonde. That smile maintains her quizzical expression, rather charming in her supposed ignorance. But she's no master at concealing emotion, and her dark green eyes glitter with laughter. "Are you sure?" She inquires skeptically, glancing down at the offending appendages through dark lashes. "It's not straps that I need help with. I mastered those long ago." Setting down her eating utensil, she waves a hand passively. "It's the little things, the details. How are you at paying attention to details? It takes delicacy, you understand, and patience... Do you have any tools for it?" Settling her chin in the open, empty palm of one of her hands, Lourna does make a cursory, appreciative study of the considerably older man, but maintains a straight face in spite of the enormous opening left him.

Out of earshot yet determined to be as close as possible, Bones picks up his mug and moves himself through the growing crowds with care, keeping as low a profile as possible for a man of his dimensions. He doesn't know the girl, so her eyeline is of less concern than H'viers, and so he circles around behind the bronzerider whom he's certain has a rather narrowed focus as it is. Now to try and find a seat. At a good distance of course, he doesn't want to be obvious.

Narrow focus, indeed. H'vier's attention is quite fixed on his find. He's grinning indulgently as he listens to the young woman and whatever tension he'd come in with is no where to be seen in his expression now. "''Mastered,'' have you? I'd love to see how good you are with your hands. Later." Dark eyes glance at those hands that he's probably thinking about in ways he shouldn't be quite yet. "I have tools that you'd love to get your hands on." Still smiling, H'vier picks up his drink again and asks, "What will you have?"

She doesn't balk when the man just rolls with it; his sheer level of tolerance and bravado is impressive. "Well, I've mastered it in a manner of speaking. Straps only take precision, patience, and repetition." Lourna pauses, lifting her hands to glance at them. They're what you might expect of a woman of her age, neither overly large for her gender or too daintily petite, with light, consistent calluses. Green eyes flit up from her hands, fixating upon his face and shoulders with a weighing, thoughtful expression. "Why, H'vier," Lourna utters, smile broadening into a toothy grin. "I thought men only came with one. Or did that turnday girl share her toys with you?" Okay, so maybe the cat's out of the bag that she knows what's what. What leaves her lips surprises even her, though, and a light flush rises to her tanned cheeks.

Nearly choking at his drink at the sudden turn in Lourna's behavior, he manages to only slightly sputter from his seat. He regrets now his choice of putting his back to the pair of them, not able to see the face of the mysterious taunting blonde, nor H'viers reaction at being so openly toyed with. Then again, that might have made him laugh aloud and blow his cover. Still a risk.

"Oh, darling. If you think men only have one tool, you've been with the wrong men. Or maybe you've never been with one at all. Is that it?" That prospect only seems to encourage his behavior, H'vier's gaze shifting a little toward heated in its intensity as he studies Lourna. Fortunately he's still oblivious to Barnabas. But he's moving to get up, to go get that drink. "You strike me as a cider kind of girl, yeah?" Well, he doesn't really wait for an answer so hopefully she doesn't hate cider.

Drawing a soft breath, the youth /wills/ her face to keep from reddening further with embarassment. To keep from rubbing at her cheeks, feigning ignorance about the pink tinge to her flesh. When her hand lifts halfway to her face, she changes course and instead lightly rubs at the exposed skin upon the back of her neck. "And if I haven't? I still know how things uh--work." Lourna sounds slightly defiant, wetting her lips. "That's not that unusual." It might be a little unusual, but she glances down into the mostly full bowl that was her meal, untouched. "Cider is fine."

So maybe the Snowasis isn't as full as all ''that'', yet, free spaces left here and there... but does Val need an excuse, really, to steal the spot that the big bronzerider just vacated? If he could fit, surely there's more than enough room for such a slender woman to slip into place, eyes bright and drink in hand. She smiles at the apprentice Tanner, folding her arms so the 'feathers' show down the back of her wrists: ''check out her '''leather'''.''

Raises an eyebrow to himself as he hears seats shifting over his shoulder, no longer just the H'vier and mystery blonde show to eavesdrop. Now he has to sit up a bit straighter in his seat and actually turn his head 'round, trying to get a glimpse of who had invaded H'viers spot. Well, he saw the back of her head at least. A woman? This might get interesting. Now if only he had another mug of Klah to keep him company for the show.

"If you haven't, well." Take a guess, any guess, about what H'vier is thinking. But then he's off to the bar to get the cider and maybe a topping off on his own whiskey. It's not going to take him long before he's returning and the bronzerider looks just a little bit confused about the seat he'd left having been filled already. That was the seat he left, right? There's Lourna, so it has to be. "Excuse me. That seat's taken," he says as he re-approaches, directly to Val.

For the moment, Bones is off the hook, as Lourna is still rather distracted and the man hasn't made any sudden moves recently, or made enough noise to draw her attention away from the unfortunately handsome bronzerider who is practically swaggering away to get her something to drink. Cider. To his offer, Lourna offers no immediate response save to watch him from behind as he retreats to the bar. And then her view is obscured by a woman barely taller than she herself. Dark olive green eyes blink quickly, and then widen slightly at the elaborate decor of her jacket. Somehow, it's taunt enough to make H'vier's return a relief. It's a distraction from the envious master work.

The widening of those green eyes widens Val's smile and she's ''just'' about to speak, when the tall guy gets back. There's a moment where she might ignore him, does ignore him, but then she must change her mind because she does glance upward then, through her fall of dark hair. "Hm?" To H'vier, unhurried. To Lourna, leaning across the table slightly and dropping her voice to match, "Oh, I'm ''sorry''. Is this your... date?" She sips her drink while she's at it: something with gin, tonight.

Finally unable to hold everything back, Bones lets out a hearty single beat of laughter at what unfolds just behind him. "HA!" Now he's likely no longer as invisible as before, and with the outburst he turns around in his chair, legs splaying around the back of it. "Sorry, don't mind me. I'm not here. Continue." He's grinning in anticipation of what next would unfold.

The position that H'vier takes near Lourna could make an uninformed onlooker think they're together, certainly. He sets the cider down on the table as he eyes the intruder, keeping his own glass in hand. "Aye," he answers ''for'' the girl, belatedly glancing over in Bones' direction at that laugh. "And I think it's time we went somewhere else, don't you?" he sort of asks but mostly just says, free hand moving to the girl's arm as though to draw her out of her seat.

"Us? Well, I--there goes a major life decision," Lourna is absently remarking as H'vier draws her out of her seat while answering; shd doesn't even fight it just due to the completely unexpected behavior that the brazen, bullish bronzerider is exhibiting. Lourna is torn between being alarmed, and impressed at the much older, much taller man's antics. And there is the /free/ cider to consider; she's just an apprentice, and a weyrbrat, and that stuff doesn't come cheap or free. With the free arm not presently clutched beneath H'vier's hand, Lourna scrabbles fingers for the drink.

It's the bark of a laugh that startles Val out of her composure, and if she had genuine feathers instead of sleek leather they'd puff outward, ruffled. Still, once she glances back at Barnabas, it's replaced by an element of 'it's only Bones.' Her mouth purses, not quite a smile, and she turns back to the apprentice and then up to the bronzerider instead. "Oh? It ''seems'' like you're wanting to play daddy with his naughty, ''naughty'' little girl."" To Lourna, sweetly, "If he's that much in a hurry, he won't be any good for you. Though if you ask very nicely, maybe he'll let ''you'' spank ''him'' sometime."

It's at all of Val's wicked talk of spanking little girls that Bones' face can't help but sour a little. With furrowing brow and slightly open mouth, his eyes dart between H'vier and Lourna. Was he serious? "Are you serious?" He stands up now, chair lightly kicked back under the table that moments before he was sitting at. "Y'can't... I mean dude, she probably don't even know all her times tables yet!" Eyes are firmly on H'viers as he makes that exclamation, but he briefly glances to Lourna, face softening momentarily. "Sorry, you prolly do, s'just a joke."

Since nothing that Lourna says is really ''no,'' H'vier doesn't pay much attention to anything beyond keeping a hand on her arm as far as she's concerned for the moment. His face is slowly turning back to the glowering he'd entered with not so very long ago, eyeing Val in a completely different way than he'd been eyeing Lourna. His expression breaks into a not-very-friendly grin when he says, "Oh, she'll be very naughty by the time I'm done with her." With Bones butting into the conversation, H'vier turns that same grin on the gardener but ends up turning his attention back to the girl. "Drink. I have something I want to show you." He might mean that more innocently than it comes out but considering how much hasn't been innocent, it probably doesn't matter.

She isn't so much offended as surprised by Bones' well meaning assertions. "I know my times table. It helps to measure lengths of--nevermind," Lourna mutters. Riders aren't likely to have an abundant interest in leatherworking, and Bones' distinct odor de dirt suggests more exterior work than otherwise. That cider is looking mighty tasty, and Lourna helps herself to the 'free' drink. Free if you don't count the cost of dignity. She's in the midst of taking a nice deep draught from the cup when H'vier mentions naughty in the same sentence in which he mentions her. Lourna promptly chokes on the drink half way through, and though she doesn't spit it out, nor does it come streaming from her nose, her brief expression suggests discomfort as she coughs and chokes down the swallow. "Do you?" Her voice is a little roughened by the coughing. "I cannot imagine what that might be." Yes, she can. Well, sort of. Lourna can certainly assume, even if she can't summon a workable image. Either way, she's emptying the cup as if it'll sooth the soreness in her throat.

Let the men handle themselves! "There, there, sweetling," murmurs Val, who's risen enough to seek to pat the tanner between her shoulderblades. Poor coughing girl! The brownrider will even leave what's left of her drink upon the table, such a sacrifice to be parted from it for even a little while, but that's ''just'' the kind of girl Val is. "What kind of lengths ''do'' you like to measure? Does addition truly not suffice? Here and I'd thought it was frowned upon for apprentices to multiply." At this rate, the tanner might even get her drink for free: what's H'vier going to do, make her cough it up?

Now Bones has somebody new to scowl at, taking a step towards the big bronzerider but looking down at Val as he does so. "You're not ''helping'' you psycho!" It's only when he's up next to H'vier that he brings his gaze up to meet his, that extra inch of height not making him crane his neck by too much. "You fuckin' sleeze!" If witnesses are abound, Bones is the one to strike first, both of his calloused palms pushing hard at H'vier's chest.

If H'vier were going to try to get Lourna away from Val so he could herd her off more easily to somewhere more private, that idea goes right out the window when Bones approaches him. The bronzerider doesn't seem too worried about the gardener, standing up tall and stubborn but not bothering to put his glass down. The unexpected shove takes care of that, though, spilling whiskey onto H'vier before the glass falls to the floor. His attention is on Bones, though. Surprise quickly turns to real anger, though, and, like a good bull, H'vier charges the other man with the clear intention of tackling him to the ground. Hopefully clear of the glass.

There's a moment where Lourna begins to reply to Val's inquiry, her voice laden with wry humor, but that is all spoiled by Bones' abruptly chivalrous defense of little girls everywhere. Well, maybe not little. Little girls do not have such round--so anyway, there Lourna is with her full lips parting in something akin to a mixture of horror and shock. There's no time for Val's very pretty, but sassy ways, and Lourna's figure stiffens with sudden tension. "He's a /bronzerider/," the youth says aloud, her voice half-strangled. Riders are sacrosanct, aren't they? Her jaw remains practically unhinged.

Psycho? Val gives the gardener an air-kiss for the 'compliment', might even comment to Lourna on the topic only then there's ''glass'' and ''shoving'' and two very big men, and her comment changes entirely. "He'd like you to think that," she says suddenly, sharply, and grabs her drink with one hand before reaching to yank at Lourna's elbow with her elbow. ''Not'' for weyr-dragging, necessarily, but: "Out of their way." Let's not get hit, please? Nearer the bar should be safe. Safe''r''.

H'vier's extra height comes with it a few extra pounds of muscle to shove right into Bones' chest, but the gardener's feet shuffle quickly behind him to keep him standing, albeit moving straight back with frightening speed. A few awkwardly aimed punches are fired into H'viers ribs on the way back, but eventually he hits the edge of a table and crashes dramatically atop it's surface, sending flying drinks abound. It looks like H'vier was going to get on top of somebody that night after all.

Tugged somewhat out of the path of woe by Val's 'helpful' gesture, Lourna quickly shuffles out of the way, her dark green eyes still wide with alarm and no small amount of concern. For who is up in the air for the moment, but she glances side long at Val in disbelief. "He might be lecherous to some new, unimaginable extreme, but he didn't strike me as daft and bubble-brained enough to /lie/ in a weyr about being a rider," Lourna says, her low-pitched voice suggesting the same disbelief etched upon smooth features. The cider is slowly kicking in, taking the edge off of her shock and giving a pleasant flush to her skin. Her attention returns to Bones' and H'vier's dispute just in time to spot the slightly shorter, older man go tumbling onto a table. "Hey! Hey, both of you! Knock it off, will you?" Lourna raises her voice readily, for all of the good it will do her. There's only a /slight/ tremor from trying to order a rider to do--well, anything.

Ladies forgotten for now, H'vier's full attention focuses on his assailant. The big bronzerider grunts, practically ''growls,'' through the punches that manage to hit him hard enough but what he lacks in grace or efficiency just now, he makes up for in single-minded determination, ingrained practice and strength. With Bones coming up against the table, H'vier finally swings a blow toward the other man's abdomen as he hisses, "Stay the fuck ''out'' of it. It don't involve you." Apparently his grammar suffers when he's that angry.

Oh, he probably has a big-ass dragon, all right," and Val has a pretty mouth to be saying things like that with, "but making him special? Hardly." Her laughter is pretty too, pretty and silvery, just before she downs her drink and trades it for a napkin from the nearest table... with which to snag one of the larger, curvier pieces of glass that's slid toward their feet. Just in case. She doesn't seek to forestall Lourna from trying to break things up verbally, nor to intercede herself. There's a bouncer ambling across the room, after all, in no real hurry: got to give people time to place their bets, after all. Though the brownrider does note, quite audibly, "Why, he practically sounds Holdless when he's perturbed."

The ex-convict takes the blow to his stomach well. Well enough anyway. The grunt that leaves him at the impact is one of genuine pain, and Bones is determined to ensure another doesn't land so clean. He reaches forward to clutch at H'vier's vest, and after securing it well in his grip, he rockets his forehead straight towards the bronzerider's face. Nose preferably, but in the heat of the moment he'd accept a cheek or an eye socket.

Big ass... Ooooh. /That/. The flush caused by her growing intoxication grows deeper, but Lourna doesn't let Val's mouth cause her any further consternation. "I think riding makes you very special," Lourna says a little sheepishly, glancing downward with a brief flick of the eyes. But, it would seem by the way she steels herself and steps towards H'vier that she isn't content to watch the pair pound on each other. Wetting her lips nervously, she spreads her feet a little and reaches for H'vier while he is as intent upon Bones as the other man is on H'vier. Her intent isn't to harm so much as to slide her arms around H'vier's waist to, very likely fruitlessly, draw him away or stall his efforts. "That's enough. Really, this is completely unnecessary," Lourna grunts softly through her efforts. She's relatively strong for her size, given her trade, but still falls spectacularly shy of likely either man's strength.

This is the sort of thing that H'vier would probably be more likely to prevent if he hadn't been drinking immediately prior. Then again, if he hadn't been drinking, he might not be in this position in the first place. Such as it is, Barnabas' hard head meets H'vier's rather less hard nose with that sickening sort of crack that assures something isn't going to be right. It makes the bronzerider bellow a curse but rather than turn him from the scuffle, it just seems to drive him. He's aiming a blow more precisely toward Bones' ''face'' when there's Lourna on him, trying to pull him back. And once he realizes, that fire starts to die down, him standing there with his fist pulled back and nose bleeding. Because as lecherous as he may be, he doesn't want to hurt ''her.''

"''Do'' you." Val's dark brown eyes are opaque for that a slight smile still flirts with the curve of her mouth. It's not a question, doesn't expect an answer, doesn't even demand attention. Not when there's that ''crack'', her teeth showing in a responsive grin. The brownrider doesn't seek to stop Lourna from intervening bodily either, though her thumb might secretively slide along the too-similar curve of glass shard as though along a throat. She leans forward, slightly, that grin widening as a bluerider comes up and whispers to her. The bouncer is coming. The girl's looking to be successful. She melts away with the other woman, back into the crowd.

With hands still gripping tight at H'vier's chest, Bones is too lost in the melee to realize what precisely is giving H'vier pause with his raised fist. The advantage is cruelly taken by the dragonless one, his back pinned to the table beneath bronzerider. Suddenly, swiftly, a hard knee is sent hurdling up between the thighs of the slightly bigger man, aiming for the tools he seemed drunkenly intent on saving for the teen apprentice.

There's something about Val's voice that tickles the hairs upon the back of Lourna's neck, and leaves her feeling oddly dry mouthed. "Yes, I--" But, she's plenty distracted by the heaving hulk that is H'vier not exactly trapped by the circle of her arms about his waist. Lourna doesn't entirely sink against him in relief, but she might, just a little.

As if his face didn't hurt enough already! The knee that comes up between his legs earns a sound that is ''decidedly'' unmasculine. H'vier's fist drops as the rest of him crumples to his knees so close to Bones' feet, then forward as he tries to curl in on himself. Whether he drags Lourna along with him really depends on whether or not she lets go of him on his involuntary visit to the floor. He's cursing, or trying to curse, through strained, panting breathes. He's down, man, and he's not getting up for at least a few minutes.

Bones stands tall over his defeated foe for a few proud moments, teeth bared and fists clenched tight. It takes only a few quick breaths for him to come down from his anger, face softening slow at first but then brow pinching high in the middle. "I'm sorry! I got carried aw-" It's in the middle of his embarrassed apology for his violent behavior that karma swoops down opon him in the form of a pair of bouncers. Neither were as large as he or H'vier, but they make up for it in viciousness, one of them grabbing Bones by his tangled dreads and the other tackling him by his legs. With both working in tandem, Bones is brought to the ground, and is given a brief but savage lesson in humility. A few punches and kicks are administered, and he's dragged out of the Snowasis by force.

There is some manner of embarrassment over the whole to-do, and it leaves the youth muttering to herself frantically in soft, hushed words. And then the force of Bones' blow to the most unfortunate place upon a man's body jars even Lourna. H'vier crumples to the ground, nearly pulling Lourna with him. And then Bones' repentant voice pierces the sudden agitation, but whatever he might have said by way of apology is smothered by the efficiency of the bouncers. And they don't want to hear a peep out of Lourna, even if she briefly, kneeling by H'vier's side, tries to come to his defense verbally. But, she's brushed off, and left to tend to the 'wounds', as it were. Leaning over the fetal H'vier, Lourna cringes, biting her lower lip. /Bronzerider/. What a disaster. "H'vier...? Can I help?"

With his nose probably making his face look pretty awful, more the blood than forming bruises right now, H'vier remains pretty oblivious to other things for at least a little while. Long enough for the bouncers to take advantage of the situation. Soon enough, H'vier tries to reach out for Lourna's hand or wrist or forearm before he starts trying to pull himself back together enough to get up off the floor. "Think maybe you've done enough tonight," he says to the girl like this is all somehow her fault and not his at all. "Tell'm to put the glass on my tab." A point at the bar. "Then you can... go." Whatever. He doesn't care so much right now.

Kneeling over H'vier while he lays vulnerable and in pain, Lourna is at least attentive in her hovering, making soft sounds of distress. What a nightmare. Of course, hope and relief spread across her face as H'vier reaches out towards her, snagging her forearm where she has it pressed against him with her fingers planted against the floor. Lourna appears ready to speak, poised on the edge of rising to her feet as if to help him, but he crushes that reality with what leaves his lips. Hope vanishes, replaced with confusion and the first hints of guilt. The immediate reaction is to refuse his remarks, but H'vier's claim to Reisoth stills her tongue as she wonders whether or not it is. His dismissal is sharp, and somewhat cruel. Hunching her shoulders and tearing her eyes from him, the adolescent slinks to the bar as told, exchanges a few words with the tender before making her way for the exit, head down.




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