Difference between revisions of "Logs:A Cold Deck"

Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr --- Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora. Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit. Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath. ---

It's dark as any cave, the costly glass shuttered against the blizzard that rages outside, but glowbaskets hang here and there to light the main path. Still, that's not the only glow: there's a dim greenness that doesn't come from the plants themselves, about where one of the more secluded benches woud be. Perhaps it's mostly shuttered. Or, the glows are old, soon to fade and go out.

The winds softly howl outside the glass, blizzard changing direction often enough to alter the pitch of it's haunting whispers. But overpowering the sound of icy death just outside the greenhouse glass is an unflappably cheerful whistle. Guardian of High Reaches' plantlife checks every possible seal and crack to ensure that none of the snow enters the safe haven, blowing one of his favorite jaunty tunes through pursed lips all the while. It's only in noticing that section of green that the whistle slows to silence, and vocal chords are put to use. "Hello?" He's not waiting for a response before heading to the source.

The reply, her reply given its timbre, comes after a couple moments' delay. Even then, it's not quite precise, not quite with it, unless the leaves are dulling that too. Then, though, "Just sitting." Possibly sleeping, given its ruefulness. "Not eating anything I'm not supposed to, don't worry." Not savaging the greenhouse treats! Though, if he continues, he'll find the greenrider putting an almost-clean plate and tableware back into a different basket. Lunch.

A few questioning blinks are the only movement in the man for a few silent seconds, seeming to question her presence in the greenhouse. "Leeeeeeee...ona?" The silence is actually to scan his mind for the name of greenrider. It had been a while. "No, shit. Hold on don't tell me." Eyes are clutched tightly shut as he puts two fingers to his forehead, trying to wedge the name from his mind. Finally, he let's out a breath of frustration, and shoulders slump in defeat. "Leona's as close as I'm getting sweetheart, sorry. I remember you though, I tried to buy you a drink and you were all like, nah uh."

"'Leova.'" It's clipped, by that time, if just the edge of what's otherwise amiable enough. Amiable again: "Seen you a few times, back when we were guarding the goldriders." But not stopped to talk. "What's it look like out there? Came by during a break, thought it was getting better," and instead there's still that howling darkness to regard with disfavor.

Bones springs to life suddenly at the correction, one fist tightened and angrily shook as he looks off to the side. "Leova!" It's loud, a frustrated self-admonishment at forgetting, but he's all smiles when looking back to her. "Well Leova, you might be stuck here for a few unless you're lookin' to brave the ice." Four fingers of each hand disappear into his pockets, and he looks over his shoulder to glance out of the glass behind him. It's deadly out. "Which uhh, unless you got a flamethrower in that basket? I wouldn't recommend. Ha!"

A couple of seconds pass in actual quiet. Then: "It would have to be a very small flamethrower," Leova muses, dry enough to be tongue-in-cheek. Maybe. "Don't mind it taking a few. Still, if it gets too long... yeah, I'll try the ropes, follow them out." She looks briefly speculative, then shakes her head, sliding back into the corner of the bench so she can pull her knee up. "Things been busy here? Wild parties? People sneaking in, off to steal some herbs?"

An eyebrow lifts on it's own at Leova's response about flamethrowers. It sure seems like a joke, but with that bone-dry tone it's hard to tell. He gives the benefit of the doubt, and chuckles soft. "Hehe, well I'll probably be here all night. Could kill the time with a deck'a cards I got in the back maybe?" The bench is put through it's paces by the big man, backside dropped onto with the full assistance of gravity. It creaks in protest at the impact, but stays solid. "Been as silent as the grave. Only people who show here are ones actually lookin' for the peace'n quiet."

A quick grab saves her basket from being crushed at the last minute, the greenrider tucking it atop her knee. Not going to be here all night," she says quite definitively. "Don't mind a game. Don't know as it's much for the peace-and-quiet, though." She tips her head up, for all that the vines growing overhead disappear into the gloom. "Ever tried to get a needlethorn to grow 'round here? You know, in case anyone drops by who's unpeaceful and unquiet-like."

"Needlethorn?" His face scrunches up at it's mere mention. "Now why I would want to sully up such a nice greenhouse with any of that? Hate that stupid sting weed." Even with contempt in his voice, his smile is unwavering. "Getting needlethorn in here is the best way to get intruders. Kids use em for pranks y'know. I know I did, ha!" As quick as he took his seat in the bench, he stands up again, a mission in mind for the two of them. "I'll go get the deck eh? Whaddya say, few rounds of go fish?"

She has to laugh at that, low and definitely amused. "You spent time down south, did you? Ista or Nerat? Or do you think it was just a plant as was called by the same name." The greenrider doesn't turn up her nose at the mention of 'go fish,' but neither does she leap at the possibility, instead just edging off the bench enough to touch the cold glass and wipe off some of the moisture there. Not that she can see out, not more than the inside of the shutters.

"Both" is the simple answer to her question, answered with a grin but quick steps towards the fabled 'back' mentioned earlier. The audible clomping of his heavy boots trail off slightly into the distance, but the weight of the steps ensure he's never entirely out of earshot. He returns just as he promised, with cards. "Got a game you prefer over go fish? I mean we could go with some poker but ehh, that ain't ever fun with just two. Unless it's the strip variety, but man that's some shit foreplay right there." He's already shuffling, seemingly determined to get a game of cards in.

"Awful," Leova agrees, mock-mournful, amber eyes set to watch the man shuffle rather than suggesting alternatives: does he seem skilled, overtly or otherwise? Does he drop cards? "Not like Go Fish is so great with two, either. Especially after they're mostly dealt. Might as well guess, hm, do you have... a navel? Why, you do, really? Imagine that." One corner of her mouth turns up. "Not that you can pass a navel."

"How about two person solitaire?" The wind whips up louder at that one, vibrating the thick glass a touch. It's as if nature itself is groaning at Bones' jokes. "Hey, is that a smile you got tucked away over in the corner there?" He actually points a long finger in the direction of her face. "Ha! It is. Y'oughta wear one more often. It suits." Bones shuffles skillfully, calloused hands gliding the cards in amongst themselves like they were greased and weightless. He's probably experienced. "I mean if go fish ain't your thing, I know of a few others. Ever heard of Tonk? Steal Pile? Red frog, Black frog?" He's definitely experienced.

Just as Leova might bounce a comment back, he goes on, and she wrinkles her nose at the man. "You," she tells him, "are not my uncle." She glances back over her shoulder, but not towards the windows and their wind, not this time. Still, "Back to the soitaire. You proposing to divide the deck lengthwise, or width-?" The flick of her finger suggests how a knife could cut.

"Hey c'mon now Leova, I'm everbody's uncle! Ha!" Despite the obnoxious familiarity, there's a hint of apology buried somewhere in the mention of her name. Something in the tone. "Besides, a card game with me beats freezing to death. Least it should." He finishes his idle shuffle, and stretches out his arm to hand her the cards from a safe distance. "You decide. You're the guest of honor, eh?"

Something that's not just audible, but possibly even heard. "I suppose," Leova says, and takes the cards. Only then she's looking at him like she's surveying: "Ever played fifty-two card pickup?" Her tone's gone deadpan again, much the same as before, not that she's smiling. This, after all, is serious.

An already sizable grin only gets bigger at her suggestion of a new game to play. "Fifty two pickup, eh?" What's this? A card game he hasn't heard of? His hands clap loudly in front of him at the prospect, then rub together in earnest excitement. "How do you play that?"

Can she do it? Will she? What's Bones ever, really, done to her? "Here's how you start," Leova begins, standing, deck in hand. And she holds it out above the bench between them, pauses ceremonially, and... then she drops the deck. Only, she's lowered her hand first, so it doesn't drop very far, and only a few cards get out of kilter. "Except, traditionally, you drop it from way up high so they blow all over," she admits. "So the other person has to pick them up. Pick up." Get it? She picks up the basket instead, and adds, "Be seeing you, Bones." Not that she explains her mission before heading down the stairs into the craft complex, blizzard or no blizzard, nor her relenting... but maybe it's just been a good getaway from it all.

Bones is left standing over a slightly askewed stack of cards, and is in the midst of scratching the back of his head as she drifts out. "Huh? Oh, yeah, see ya Leova." he must be missing something here. The cards are picked up, and her instructions are milled over in his mind. From way up high so they drop all over? He does just that. With the extra height afforded to him, he gives them an idle toss so that the cards flutter every which way, fanning out across the floor. Nope, he still doesn't get it. "That Leona sure is a strange one." As confused as he is, he learns the finer points of the game in due time.