View source for Logs:Little Blue Riding Jo and the Big Bad Weyrling

{{Log
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|type=Log
| who = Jo{{!}}Dov, G'laer, G'laer{{!}}Hadley, Jo
| where = Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Little Blue Riding Jo is taking a package to her sick aunt through the twisted tunnels in the wee hours of the morning where she happens upon the Big Bad Weyrling, only he's not so Big and Bad when he's talking to ''her''. (It might be the tight pants.)
| when = Day 28, month 10, turn 33
|day=28
|month=10
|turn=33
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| gamedate = 2014.01.17
| quote = "Taking handkerchiefs to a sick aunt?"
| weather = 
| categories = General, Clutch 50
| mentions = Rh'mis
| ooc = 
| icons = g'laer threatening.jpg, jo trouble.jpg
| log = '''Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr

''There are many twisty, turny tunnels throughout High Reaches Weyr. And this just happens to be one of them. It branches off from one of the main ones, taking you away from the resident dorms and private rooms. Here and there are some storage closets, but the hall is mostly bare. It's devoid of decoration and seems to otherwise just take a windy path towards the main caverns.
----


It's not every night that Jo goes snooping about the deeper and inner workings of High Reaches Weyr, but if someone was lucky they just might catch her doing so. This night, she's about in some tunnel or other, and she's not alone. One of the larger cavern workers is with her - Dov, perhaps a familiar face to those that might have seen her around him and the other criminal elements of the Reaches - though, no one has really proven if they were really criminal elements. The beauty of gossip. "I've put them back here," he might be heard to say should someone be within hearing distance, his heavy steps echoing off the tunnel besides hers. Looks like they're on a mission tonight, with Dov in the lead to some concealed spot he wants to point out.

Random tunnels seem to be a hot spot for matters of questionable intent. Drifting from down a split in the tunnel, a gruff voice is raised in anger, "You promised payment!" Even without seeing the speaker, the fact that the phrase is spit at whomever it's directed to can be plainly heard. The returning voice is lower and not all might be made out unless one chooses to get a little closer. "Payment promised on the premise that the information would be ''timely'' and ''useful''. How do you expect me to collect on a dragonrider when the one who would pay is dead?" It's a logical enough argument, but not one that seems to suit the stocky man glowering at G'laer with his stoic expression and subtly prepared stance.

Jo can hear the fact that they're not alone down here. They both can. She and Dov turn as one towards the voice, they own quieted to listen in on them. To her, the first voice sounds familiar, and she's frowning towards the direction before a wrapped package is getting shoved against her. "Here," Dov states, now looking to leave. "I best be gone." He's looking towards the direction of the voices, too, and he's not looking delighted to not be alone. "We'll talk, eh? Let me know." His voice is much quieter in comparison, and his steps as he heads off seems to much more careful than when they arrived. Jo only nods at him before she's creeping closer towards the voices, the crinkling of the package she now holds drawing an irritated frown from her before she quietly sets it down on the ground. Best to not get caught if she was going to be committed to snooping a bit, right?

Who can say if it's the crinkling or the low sound of voices that has G'laer holding up a hand to the other man. There's silence from the pair a moment while the former guard listens, his eyes sweeping, only to be distracted too soon in his assessment by the other man's voice coming again. "I'll have what I'm owed," he demands. The man is not small, though he's also not muscular, tending toward the portly and old enough to know that's flab not muscle. The cross of his arms over his broad chest is likely meant to intimidate, but G'laer doesn't seem to care. "You'll have half and be grateful I'm a generous man." This starts to meet with protest, but G'laer's hand flashes up and wraps itself around the man's throat, shoving him against the wall he was inches from anyway. "Let's get one thing clear. If you do the job I pay you for well and timely, we'll have no problem, but I'm not one to be strong-armed into paying full price for information that's gone from ripe to putrid. Understand?" The man must nod, or G'laer must take the wheezy squeak that shows he's not kidding around with the stranglehold, because the weyrling lets him go. "Good. I'll get the half payment to you." And that seems to make them done. The older man certainly doesn't seem to want to stick around. Whether or not he's leaving with plans for later revenge... it's anyone's guess. G'laer's turning, too, but the opposite way, unknowingly toward Jo.

When they go silent, so does Jo. She stops in her tracks, her breathing being amped down as she strains to hear on whether she's been caught or not. But then talk starts up again, and so the bluerider resumes her creeping towards them. Once she's close enough to reach the bend of the tunnel that led to them, she presses herself flat against the wall before carefully leaning over to see. She can hear them clearly but not see them, so she brings herself back to upright position and just stills. She stays put as the meeting seems to be at an end, and then she turns and inches away to retrieve her package.

When G'laer comes around the corner, he's looking-- well, like G'laer. His expression is serious, but maybe that's strange because after a run in like that, one would think there ''should'' be some evidence of being ruffled or at least some kind of adrenaline-prompted jitteriness. But the greenrider is cool as a 'Reaches autumn. At the sight of another in the tunnels, G'laer's head shifts just enough to acknowledge the other rider. Apparently it's too late an hour for the weyrling to concern himself with saluting.

With the package being unceremoniously tucked under one arm (it's no point in being quiet now), Jo turns once she can hear him coming and walks towards him. He may not recognize her yet, but as the distance closes, "So what was that all about?" she asks in greeting, seeming to not be bothered by any show of saluting. She's more concerned with flat out being nosy.

"What was what about?" It's not that G'laer is feigning ignorance, it doesn't sound like that. The question is delivered in his usual neutral tone as he comes to a stop a few paces from the bluerider who, if he didn't recognize her immediately, he certainly now does. He might mean it as a clever tact to uncover just what Jo witnessed, but it's a fair enough question in any case, even if it ''is'' answering a question with a question.

As Jo seems apt to do when it comes to G'laer, she turns on the imitation: ''"If you do the job I pay you for well and timely, we'll have no problem, but I'm not one to be strong-armed into paying full price for information that's gone from ripe to putrid. Understand?"'' She tries to get the voice down pact, looking hard at him before her voice returns to normal. "What job?" she now asks. "Up to somethin' nefarious, Weyr-guard?"

"How could I be up to something nefarious when I like to follow the rules?" Not that he ever actually said that; but she said that of him. G'laer quirks a brow at Jo along with the words that lilt upward in inquiry. If he's flattered or amused by her imitation, this time there's no sign of it. Then, "Words like that, one ''might'' think nefarious a good adjective to describe whatever it is I might be up to." Then, "What's it to you? I thought you decided I didn't have any secrets worth your attention." There's a slight pull of his lips, something coolly amused, but subtly so.

"Beats me," Jo is blithe in answering his question, even though she looks like she knows what she said before. She merely watches him with that annoying little smirk on her lips as he continues to speak - nefarious words and secrets and all - not interrupting him until the end when she gives a shrug to it all. "Ah, evasive tactics," she drawls in snarkiness, a quiet chuckle to greet it. "Could be ya don'. Maybe yer tryin' to smuggle in a fat herdbeast to ride on down by the lake, to which I would say would be a bland-ass secret, indeed."

"You caught me." G'laer answers with just the slightest dry edge to his otherwise neutral tone. "Obviously I was paying the man for information about when the feeding grounds are frequented so I could get one out without drawing attention. Joyrides on the back of fat herdbeasts are ''so me''." He emphasizes the last two words in a way that is more reminiscent of a greenrider talking of a fashion trend than one speaking of livestock. "Talk about evasive tactics," He points out then, "You didn't answer either. What's it to you?"

"For all I know," is all Jo says to that, hoisting up the brown package under one arm as she shrugs to his sarcasm. "I dunno how ya greenriders get down behind curtains." G'laer then brings up evasive tactics, turning the tables on her and the bluerider gives a loud snort. Clearly she doesn't care about their noise level nor the fact that they're just talking in some dark tunnel. Her answer? "I tol'ja I'm ''nosy'', aren' I?" she puts to him then. "That's what it's to me. Nosiness. What, yer expectin' me to declare it's cuz I'm obsessed with ya or somethin'? All ya gotta tell me is to fuck off, lookin' all mysterious-like, and I'll be on my merry way." All with a briefly pretty smile to boot.

"Maybe you can join me behind curtains sometime and you'll see for yourself," The greenrider answers, glancing toward her package briefly (the brown one), before his eyes return to her face. "I'd prefer you didn't. Obsessive women aren't attractive. Not even when they wear pants as tight as yours." Did someone say obsessed? "Now, just to clarify..." G'laer starts, baritone serious, one hand rising to make gesture with his words, "I have to look all mysterious-like ''and'' tell you to fuck off or I can just do one or the other and you'll get the point?" By the end the fact that he's teasing her now is perceptible in his tone. "Taking handkerchiefs to a sick aunt?" He asks quickly, so as not to let her think he really means for her to leave, his head nodding slightly to indicate the package as his hand drops back to his side.

"Oh, if I joined ya behind curtains, ya'd end up just another typical greenrider by the end of it," Jo states with open certainty with a smirk. "And, to clarify, ya have to do ''both'', darlin'. If only to give the full effect. Ya should leave my leather pants alone, ya know." Weight shifts from one foot to the other deliberately, as if she was about to do just that - leave - but when he speaks again, indicating the brown package that she's holding, there's a snort and a pat to the wrapped package with a free hand. "Absolutely," she answers wryly, making it sound as if she's totally lying. "I've got all sorts of colors for her, too. She's ''very'' sick, see." Brows waggle at him, amused.

"Would I?" G'laer's head tilts just slightly to one side, a demonstration of mild curiosity. "And how ''does'' that end up?" There's a brief glance down toward the pants in question, but his lips simply pull into his smirk, although, this time it affect more of his lips than just half. Call that progress. "Well, that is mighty kind of you, Miss Jo." The words are so carefully chosen to carry the humor so the tone can sound quite sincere, "I do hope she recovers swiftly. You'll have to introduce me sometime." Because introducing a former guard to an imaginary relation of Jo's is a ''great idea''!

"If ya have to ask...." is all Jo says to that first with a little smarmy smirk on her face. "But yeah, she'll recover soon. I'm sure. I'm a good niece. Ya don' need to meet her. What for?" and she gives a bratty shrug to that. "There's better folks for ya to meet than ''her''. Believe me. Anyway. I think I'm gonna go. It's fuckin' weird we're standin' here in some random, dark-ass tunnel for no reason. I've got things to do," and she pats the package under her arm in indication. Or emphasis, really. "Ya go have fun sulkin' around here, tryin' to smuggle yer prized runner in here for ya to ride or somethin'."

"Oh, are there better things one can do in some random, dark," He omits the swear smoothly, "Tunnel?" G'laer asks, all ''innocence'', or maybe just feigned ignorance. "I ''do'' enjoy skulking about," He admits, tone a little wry, though the weyrling shifts his weight as though to allow Jo to pass unimpeded, not that she really needs him to, but it's the thought that counts. "Best wishes to your aunt for a speedy recovery."

"Again, if ya have to ask...." Jo states in answer to the first. "I'm sure ya don' need someone like ''me'' to give ya the run-down on things that could be done in dark tunnels. Y'weyrlins' shouldn' even be ''talkin'' to me." Not that it would stop ''her'' from talking to ''them'', mind. She does start her retreat then, snorting over her shoulder at him for his last before stating wryly, "Yeah, I can tell. I'll also be sure to let my aunt know that a perfect stranger's showin' concern for her. See ya around." The next moment, she's gone, only her booted steps and the crinkling of that package she has being the only indication that she was there.


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