Difference between revisions of "Logs:A blonde and a brunette in a bar"

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.

It is an autumn evening, 20:36 of day 9, month 11, turn 31 of Interval 10.

She stands out in the usual evening crowd scattered thickly through the bar because of the color. Tayte wears an outfit comprised of warm blues and turquoise that make her ocean eyes come to life even more than their usual vibrant look. She's seated at a booth all on her lonesome six shots of different colored liquids spread out before her. Her eyes aren't on those, though. Instead, she watches the faces in the crowd, her own smile warm and inviting. As she's sat here, for she's been here some time without touching any of her drinks, there have been the occasional would-be companion stopping by the table, but for one reason or another, all have been turned away after only a few moments quiet words. Maybe she's waiting for five friends. Or one friend looking to get sloshed.

Jo's been at the bar counter for awhile this evening, downing a few beers with some of her Glacier wingriders beside her. As usual, their boisterous presence seems to dominate the Snowasis - even though these days they've been more subdued than then usual since the mock Threadfalls. In her black leathers, her jacket unfastened to reveal the cream-colored tank top underneath, the Glacier bluerider watches the crowd that goes about their boozing, business, games....and plays gone bad. Her dark gaze has lingered on Tayte in her colorful outfit more than once by now, catching in time to see her turn away one suitor after another as the beer flowed. Once the last one heads off from her table, she finally pushes away from the counter with beer in hand and saunters right over with the air of someone that was being summoned herself. In greeting once she reaches the booth, "I think I saw a tear fall from the eyes of that one," she notes, indicating she has been watching at least that much. "Is this seat taken, or will ya turn me away, too?" Her voice is smooth, low, as rugged as she looks. She probably looks to be on the prowl like the rest of them that Tayte has turned away.

Certainly Tayte has seen Jo coming with the way she's been watching people, and though her eyes don't stay on the brunette as she approaches, they find her frequently enough to track her progress. She has an easy smile, and this one is for Jo. It spreads a bit wider, showing a bit of her perfect pearly teeth. "That depends." Her voice, too, is smooth. Her alto could be musical, it's got a sweetness and warmth that would suggest it'd lend well that way. "Would I be wasting your time, too, if you don't get to take me home at the end of the night?" As she asks, her elbows find the table, fingers interlacing, and her chin is set on them to gaze up at Jo through her lashes. It's flirtation, to be sure, but there's a sort of curl at the edge of her lips that hints it is without true intent behind it.

"Is that suggestin' I've got a chance to take ya home at the end of the night?" Jo counters with an arched brow, choosing to evade that question with one of her own. "Cuz, I can oblige, but I dunno ya. Need to make sure yer not the type to tear my weyr down while I'm not lookin', first. At least until we lose the clothes." She raises the beer she holds a bit before adding, "I'll buy ya a beer, or another of what yer havin', though, it looks like ya got enough to sink yerself under the table. Unless yer waitin' for someone and just like to tease those of us in here that aren'?" She looks her over, then at her face in askance, standing next to the chair and not seating herself just yet.

Jo's first question is not answered by anything but a laugh, though warm and friendly, not derisive. The blonde lifts her chin from her fingers and gestures toward the empty chair, inviting. "I'm not waiting for anyone, but I do like to tease those who aren't. And those who are. I'm an equal opportunity tease." Tayte answers the latter question, but demurs on the offer of the drink, "I've got plenty, only I'm not sure which I ought to drink first. The local flavors, I'm told. Blue is usually a safe bet." She fingers the lip of the shot-glass in question and then taps the green-filled one beside it, a lurid, odd green. "Green is not usually so safe. So do I start with those I suspect will do well or those that I think won't? I guess it depends a little on what taste I want to be left with in the end." Blue eyes flick back away from the glasses to the rider. "What do you think?" The rest of the shot-glasses contain liquids of ruby, gold, orange, and a muddy-concentrated klah color.

Dropping gratefully into the seat across from her with careless ease, "Equal opportunity," Jo echoes that one before upending the beer into her mouth. "Is that how girls spend their nights in this place? Ya must be new in the area, or just passin' through," she notes now, regarding her intently, "since I would have remembered hittin' on someone like you." Because, she clearly hits on almost everyone, right? She now turns her attention to the spread of drinks laid out before her - first the mentioned blue, then the rest in turn - "I go with what looks strong, and work my way stronger," is her opinion, "but I've been told that I've got a tough stomach. Why so many drinks all at once?" Perhaps it's odd, to her, but her tone is mostly laced with curiosity.

"I wouldn't know. I am new, -ish, anyway. But you seem like a regular, so how do girls spend their nights in this place?" Tayte turns it around to ask the rider. Jo has her attention, though there's occasional flickers that speak to her situational awareness, tracking bodies that pass by or finding the source of any loud voice that separates itself from the general din. "Someone like me? And what am I like?" Freckles flex for a moment as her nose wrinkles on the word 'what', a cute expression that does much for her looks when paired with her rosy cheeks and bronzen skin. "Strong to stronger." She shrugs then, "Sounds alright to me." Clearly the decision on which is strong and which is stronger has already been made and the ruby shot vanishes in one clean move, with no apparent after effect. She takes the shot like a pro. "Mmm," It's a disappointed sound, her lips pursing in mild distaste. Then looking back to Jo, the smile returns, "Why not? Six isn't so many. It just looks it when you order them all at once. Besides, these three-" She points to the empty red, the green and the orange, "-are almost all flavor and barely any alcohol. All together, these six aren't stronger than say a Tillek Hold Iced Tea." She nudges the gold one towards Jo, now that her beer's all gone. "You look like you need another."

"From where?" Jo asks once it's confirm that Tayte was a new face in the bar and locally. "And, some girls spend their nights lookin' for someone to shack up with here, or some are lookin' to get shit-faced, or some are lookin' to reject folks all night in a booth." Smirking a bit, "Actually, ain' much of a regular here," she notes almost dryly. "I prefer the dives less civilized, and those are on off-beaten paths. I stop by sometimes just to be seen with my wing." When the other questions her on the next, the bluerider hitches that smile up a notch and deliberately looks Tayte over before meeting her gaze once more. "Dunno," she finally answers that. "Dunno yer name, even, to know what yer like. Someone like you, as in, someone somebody else would be askin' to spend the night with. Should I start with the compliments, or should that come later when it looks like I've gotta chance?" Incorrigible, but, at least she moves on to study the drinks before her once she sets the empty bottle down. She's looking moved by her taking down a shot the way she does, and states, "Then forget this bright-'n-pretty shit and lemme get ya somethin' stronger. No alcohol. That's a tragedy, darlin'." Then she takes up the nudged gold one and upends it to her mouth in much the same way Tayte does it before she sets it down.

"Ista, most recently. The Weyr." The latter is simply a clarification. "Been here almost two months now. Finally not getting lost when I go looking for the laundry." The blonde's smile is wry, humor edging her words. "Not a regular, hm? Maybe you're one of those lucky few who can look like they fit in at any bar in the world." If Jo is one of them, Tayte is almost certainly one as well. She looks perfectly at home here, even as Jo gives her the deliberate look-over. She does shift under the other woman's gaze, but it's only to become more relaxed, one foot sliding forward under the table, bumping against Jo's boot before withdrawing. Accident, surely, from the small apologetic smile. "I'll respond to most anything. I'm not picky. On names that is," One side of her lips curl a little higher than the other, "Compliments, well... that's a different matter entirely." Then she's acquiescing. "Fine, fine." Two, three, four. The remaining shots are taken. Each seem to meet with disappointment. The glass that contained the muddy one receives a particularly disapproving glance. Nimble fingers flip one of the shot glasses onto the back of her knuckles and roll it down them to slide into one of it's brethren while the other hand simply stacks the others and slides them to the edge of the table. Once this little show is done, she smiles at the rider. "I want one of whatever's your favorite."

"Been getting' quite a bit of transfers from out that way," Jo observes once Tayte reveals where she's coming from. "Tired of all that heat and tropical surroundings? Usually the Reaches is one of the last places to run to for a home." There's quiet laughter on the next - her fitting in - and she makes a show of looking around them at the bar before she answers, "Actually, yeah, I do," she's easy enough to agree to that assessment once her piercing gaze finds hers once more. "It's not an easy feat, but I manage. So why here?" Presumably meaning the Weyr as a whole. Brows briefly lift at the touch of her foot, but it's the invitation to name her whatever she wants that she responds to. "Not picky, huh? Would 'sweet tits' work? 'Babydoll'? 'Miss Nice Ass'? I was under the impression namin' girls that would get me a drink in the face." She's eyeing those shots now, seeing that some of them are well and truly filled still. "How's compliments a different matter?" But then Tayte's downing those shots, then watches her stack them up with frowning interest. At the end of it, "Well aren' you full of little surprises," she drawls, sliding out of her seat to get to her feet. "I take whiskey," she states on her favorite. "I'll be right back." To get them more drinks.

"Well, even if it would," The humor in the woman's alto suggests though, that it wouldn't, "I'm out of drinks just now. Besides, some of those things you've yet to substantiate. You're only guessing about my ass. Unless we've met before, but somehow I think I'd remember." Tayte laughs then, a brief, but sweet sound. "Why not here? Well, there's snow, and that's not so wonderful, but sometimes any new place beats any old place, wouldn't you say?" She reaches a hand up to tuck a golden tress behind her ear and fluff through the rest of the locks framing her face. "Where's the fun in being predictable?" This comes as an answer to her comment of surprises, and a smile follows her as she fetches the drinks. By the time she returns, the shot glasses have been swept away by someone helpful and a basket of messy, saucy, delicious wings have arrived. Tayte's waited though, to dig in. "Hungry? There's plenty to share, if you like things hot." These words greet Jo upon her return. The question of compliments seems to be the only one she's let fall to the conversational wayside in the end.

Sniffing, "Get up and turn around, then," Jo puts forth in challenge, the smirk there as she crosses her arms before herself. "I can put my speculation about yer ass to rest." She can't really refute the next, so the bluerider is easy to incline her head to that. It's very true. "Grew up around the cold," she admits idly with a slight shrug. "Dunno anythin' 'bout livin' in heat. What's it like over there?" She heads to the counter to fetch them both glasses of whiskey, returning to find the wings there and no shot glasses. Sitting and handing one of the glasses over, "Wings? Sure, why not?" she says, taking a drink first before she sets it aside and reaches for a wing. While doing so, "Name's Jo, by the way," she introduces herself, since they're sharing food and whiskey now. "Blue Tacuseth's, but ya can call me whatever ya want, too. If I've been called it before, I'll likely answer to it." Which would make one wonder what sort of names she's been called.

"Only if you end up saying something bad enough, or good enough, to make me walk away," is the blonde's playful rejoinder for the request. "I think you can live with a little uncertainty on that score, for now." The words about her growing up are taken in with interest, though she saves the questions for when the rider arrives back. "Tayte," She offers in exchange before picking up a wing of her own. "Offer my regards to your lifemate. Mayhaps I'll meet him sometime to offer them myself." If one had to pick foods that wouldn't be the first choice for a first impression meal, wings would likely be up there. This doesn't seem to worry the Istan though as she bites into one, sauce slipping onto her lips. She finishes off the first before speaking again, licking her finger tips in between her words with dainty flicks of her tongue, "You'd asked about Ista. The winters rainy, and there's the monsoon season to keep us thoroughly wet for months on end. But when the sun is shining, which is often, it's fantastic. A little muggy, sometimes, but they've found a solution for that." Beat. "Wear- less- clothes." Each word here is punctuated with a lick, followed by an inspection of the fingers. Satisfied, she reaches for the whisky. Swirling it, attentive to color and aroma before taking a sip. "You said you grew up around the cold? Are you local to here? Or some other cold place?"

Jo can't help but ask, "What 'good' thing do I say to make ya walk away? Not that I want ya to actually walk from this booth," she tacks on, but then names are being exchanged for her to linger on. "Well met, Tayte," she states with a nod, "and I'll send on the regard. Perhaps ya will meet him, if this night goes well." She's that cocky, yes. She finishes off a wing then, sucking the sauce off her fingers as the other tells her about Ista. There's no interruptions, the bluerider content to listen and towards the end, with a lopsided grin, "Less clothes sounds like that place is up my path," she comments, "and that's if I could ever think of parting with this place." Eyes watch every single lick, every single flick of fingers openly. She's not one to miss anything. She has to tear herself away from continuing to do so, even, when the questions are turned on her in kind. "Keogh," she answers on being local. "Guess that's why the cold suits me. Ya gotta have tough skin to survive that place. At least yer here when it's not yet winter. Yer gonna freeze yer ass off when it comes, Ista girl." There's an even brighter smile for that, the name deliberate before she downs most of her drink.

"Oh, I don' t know." Tayte's answer is delivered with a certain airy nonchalance. "Maybe you'll talk me into another drink and it'll be my turn to fetch and buy." She flashes a smile for both that and the traditional answer to introductions. The smile grows, though lips remained pressed together, the woman amused by the rider's cockiness. "Keogh. Never heard of it. Do tell. Where is it? What's it like? All of that." It's more a request for information, though the rundown of what kinds of things she's looking for in the telling comes in rapid succession, the sense being that Jo could tell her anything she was of a mind to about the place and it would satisfy her request. Tayte reaches for another wing, "That I am. I've had clothes commissioned, but they've not arrived yet. I'm told it's worse for the riders having to brave blizzards just to get to their weyrs. All I apparently need do is follow a rope across the bowl when I can't see." She doesn't sound at all thrilled about that. "I'm doubly done for, of course. I was born in Igen to Igen-born parents, I'm given to understand. I'm made for heat, not cold." It reflects in her looks, all that warmth and vibrancy. She doesn't seem to have a problem with the heat in the wings either. Perhaps a side-effect of all that warm-weather blood! The wing-eating, sauce-application to lips, and finger-licking continues throughout.

"Ya know ya wanna another drink," Jo muses at the whole back and forth, giving Tayte one of her winsome, rakish grins. "With me." But now, Keogh. With a little shrug, "It's more Nabol's way than High Reaches Hold's," she says about the place, seeming content now to just watch her eat - fingers, lips, licking and all. "As for how it is? Ya wouldn' like it if ya don' like bein' told what to do and how to do it all the time. Trains the best guards, though, which was somethin' I was supposed to be. Grew up in a guard family, and that's pretty normal over there. Drab. Not a whole lotta color or warmth there, but it seemed to suit me. Ya were nothin' if not a guard. Ya were nothin' if not male, too, the way my father would tell it. Sounds like a place ya'd like to be?" she puts to her then. She snorts on the blizzards and riders bit, taking a drink from her glass before answering with, "Difficult, but doable. I'm made for the cold, but, I like a little challenge in my life. Igen, huh? And Ista?" She regards her for a moment before asking, "Ya know a bluerider named Vienne? Oswinth's? Seems like, the two of ya would have origins in common." Now she takes up another wing, seeming perfectly fine with its heat, as well. The sauce gets smeared on the side of her mouth, but she's not bothering with it until she's done with the wing.

A angled shrug of Tayte's shoulders has one shoulder drawn closer to Jo in what might be a coy gesture, as her chest lifts slightly and falls back with her shoulders. "I've drink yet, so time enough to decide if you're right about that," is her answer for the grin, face inscrutable. "Smaller or larger as the minor holds run?" She asks of Keogh, "I suppose I might like it, depending on who it was doing the telling and what it was they wanted me to do. But probably not with no choice in the matter or with a lack of color and warmth." Since she seems to have an abundance of both. "And I doubt I'd last three minutes in a conversation with your father. I happen to find being female quite delightful and don't find it hinders me in the least. Do you?" After another lick of her fingers to clean the last bit from the wing she finished, "Do you think you'd've been happier as a guard? Or you like the life here?" She thinks on Vienne a moment, "I'm not sure. It doesn't sound particularly familiar, but I'm more of a face person than name, and truly, I've met more faces than even the most savvy could be expected to remember. Oh, you've got a little-" She starts to point to her own mouth and then her smile changes into something small and surprised and then a little wicked, pushing herself up off the bench a few inches so she can lean across the table, "I can get it for you if you like." A finger is licked and offered up as the means, so clearly she doesn't intend anything more exciting than that, but it's contact, right? So maybe that's a step in the direction of Jo's weyr. Or maybe it isn't.

Jo snorts to the first, and if she's noticing any seemingly coy gestures, it's not being shown on her cocky expression. "Depends on the day," she continues to say on Keogh, "though, I imagine things could have changed over there. I wouldn't know. Been turns since I've been there. Naw," she decides to say with a liberal leer over the blonde, "I'd say ya'd suffer there either way. It'll suck the life right outta ya. Why else would I leave?" It's said so breezily that there's probably more to it than what she's saying, but she's not exactly lingering on her words, either. To the other questions, there's a tip of her chin downwards as she watches Tayte with those wings and she notes, "Ya ask a lot of questions." Still, "Do I find bein' female 'delightful'?" That first one. She briefly looks down at herself before meeting her gaze and giving her a shrug. "I'd have been pretty indestructable either way. Man or woman. Bein' female gives me certain charms to play, yeah," charms that she seems to have no qualms in using on a daily basis. "I imagine you do, though," she notes, swinging it right back on Tayte. As for being a guard, she takes a drink before she answers, "With my father around? Fuck no. Not to say I wouldn' have been happy. Happier, I dunno about that, but I would have been just as amazin'. There's a certain joy to gettin' to knock folks down, I'll admit, but, I can do that now. 'Sides, if I was a guard, I doubt I wouldn' have met Tac," her dragon. "What about ya, though? What is it ya do here, or back in Ista?" She nods on the answer given about Vienne, adding, "Look her up. Pretty little thing. Transferred from Igen before the double clutches. I got-?" and she tosses the finished wing until Tayte's leaning towards her. Looking at the licked finger, she laughs and flicks her own finger at the side indicated and licks it off her finger herself, though she tosses to the blonde, "So forward. Ya seem willin' to use yer tongue so liberally." Even though Tayte only licked her own finger for the cause, but the bluerider seems determined to see it otherwise.

The bluerider's last words earn her a pretty blush that's only barely visible through her natural deep tan, and spotted, of course, by the darker smattering of freckles. The offer refused, Tayte's settling back down, hand instead going to push a few tresses behind her ear once more. "Habit." This is the only offered answer to why that's so, though it might cause one to question just what kinds of things the blonde gets up to that would create such a habit. She seems to have had her fill of the wings so takes up the whiskey, swirling it with a thoughtful expression before taking a sip. "I can ask fewer questions if you like, but conversation will become awfully dull if I do." Probably because she doesn't seem anywhere near as inclined as Jo to answer the questions posed to her. "Your father sounds like an exacting man. I'm not sure I'd like him. Better that you're here, roughing up the rabble and doing-- well, whatever else it is that you do. Hit on blondes?" She suggests as one such activity, raising a brow. "I don't know that I've met any riders who think they'd've preferred life without their lifemates to life with. I suppose that's very good, though, since there's not really any kind of an escape from it once it's happened. I will have to look up Vienne. I've some questions about Igen Weyr that a native could likely answer best for me. I've not been since I was a babe in arms." She doesn't just ignore the query as to what she does, that would be rude. Instead there's a smile. Another sip of the whiskey is taken before the tilts her head, "I did a lot of things at Ista. A lot here too. None terribly important, of course." She glances toward the bar where the bartenders are still sliding drinks this way and that, "I tended bar at Ista." She says after a moment. "Will here, too, if I can ever catch Anvori at a good time. My timing," she flicks her ocean gaze back to the brunette, "Has always been poor, to put it kindly." She wears no knots to help confirm her story, not that they make a special sort for bartenders anyway.

"So ya do blush well," Jo says that as if the previous quip was targeted for Tayte to do just that, and she looks quite satisfied by it. "Habit," she repeats now. "And no. Ya can ask whatever ya like. I like makin' observations about people. It's what I do. 'Sides, yer questions tell me about you." If that can be believed. As is, she can't help but to laugh when Tayte does question what it is that she does, in a roundabout way and she flicks the fingers of one hand up briefly in a sort of shrug as she answers, "What else do dragonriders like me do when there's no Thread to fight and keep us occupied? We hit on blondes and occasionally get a drink thrown in our faces. Beyond that, we do manage to fit in sweepridin' and drills into that busy schedule, but, doesn' leave much for downtime." She'll even act like her words are the truth and that her daily life of such is exhausting. "But yer right. Once ya gotta lifemate invadin' yer space, it's hard to imagine life without. I'm sure they make sure of that on purpose. At least Tac does." She nods on the matter of looking up Vienne, taking a drink right then. There's more than a flicker of interest upon hearing that Tayte used to bartend in Ista, the quiet laughter proceeding the "So once ya get squared up with this place, ya'll remember me bein' dashin' so that I can nick a free drink or two?" she has to asks in a low tease, fingers rapping on the table lightly. "Or get me a tab set up so that I can drink'n'dash on the go?"

"Occasionally." Tayte admits of her blushing. There's a nod to confirm that Jo heard her correctly: habit. "So what do my questions tell you about me so far? What have you learned, Jo?" She seems interested in this quite keenly, as whiskey is released to the table in favor of placing an elbow to the table, and her chin lightly on her fist, leaning toward the bluerider. "Sounds like Tac is quite the intelligent fellow. It seems shrewd of dragons to make it so their riders couldn't possibly get along without them." Tayte's arm drops back to the table top and she's pursing her lips, "Well, I'd imagine my setting up a tab for you would depend entirely upon how well you pay your debts. Are you dependable that way? Or more the slippery sort to just keep adding on and never pay up?" The tone of her voice suggests some sort of double-speak, though it's clumsy, and out of practice. She seems to realize this for the blush hasn't faded much. "I suppose a free drink or two can be arranged. Of course, get to know me better, and there's always a free drink to be had in my room. Not as lively as this place, mind, but good drinks to be had." There's a grin for this, though the offer sounds a little on the innocent side. "I used to mix for all the off-site parties at Ista. You know, weyr-parties. Do they throw those kinds of thing here?"

Jo could have been expecting that particular question: what she's learned, since there's a quick answer. Leaning forward, "So far? That ya like the attention I'm givin' ya," and the confident smile more or less says the rest on that score. "Could also be why I'm still sittin' here at yer table." She drains her glass and sets it down, "He's that and more," she's easy on talking about her dragon - there's even a note of pride for her blue, something genuine and not involving games or wiles. "He enjoys gettin' up in my business when it suits him, and that's all the time." She rolls her eyes. "But he's solid. No one better to have at my back." Turning to the topic of future tabs and free drinks - one that brings a cheekiness to the fore - to paying her debts, "I never leave anyone wantin', darlin'," the convict rider's double-speak is there, but of course could easily be interpreted as innocent since it's said so casually. "That ain' a worry. The 'gettin' to know ya' part, too. I intend to, if ya let me. Yer place. Pretty dangerous to offer a rider time in yer room," she notes with open humor. "Some might take that as an invitation." Like her, that could be suggested. The last definitely captures her interest since she asks, "Weyr-parties? What, like the Hatchin' feasts and the end of the turn parties?"

"Maybe I like your attention because you're the only one who hasn't strolled on their way when I told them they weren't taking me home at the end of the night. After all, a girl can only be seen as a waste of someone's time for so long before she starts to feel like she might be a waste of everyone's, you know?" There's a wry smile for this, so it may not be the only reason she like's Jo's company, but there's likely a thread of truth to that. Tayte doesn't seem lacking in ego or confidence though as she smiles wide as Jo describes her lifemate. "He sounds delightful. I might like him more than you, if you keep talking of him that way." From the way her smile turns softer, smaller, almost secret, it's likely that Tayte catches the doublespeak. "Then I'd imagine we can work something out, once I'm set up here." Teasing returns for her next question, "So getting to know me-- does that mean I've moved from intended catch of the night to intended catch of the seven?" Is it just a line, her expression clearly asks, to get Jo a little closer to a score? "Some might be surprised, and not pleasantly, at what they find if they show up without clear invitation. Always polite to check ahead, wouldn't you say?" Then there's a shake of her head, blonde lengths sliding back and forth, "Nothing so formal. Do riders not throw parties in their weyrs from time to time? Just them and howevermany of their friends? To get knackered and have a good time? Usually the hosts are those with big enough weyrs to support a crowd, but surely some of the weyrs here would be good for that?"

"I guess I just tend to be more persistent than those," Jo is easy to counter on the first, to her still being there. "I don' always take 'no' to be the end all-be all. Sometimes it usually takes a good drink to the face to get it through this thick head of mine." On Tacuseth, and Tayte liking him more, there's a nonchalant laugh and "Oh, he's the real gentleman of the pair of us! Of course ya'll like him more. He'll be good to ya till he can' remember yer name." She seems pleased on the score of them working something out, but it's the next that has her barking out her laughter. "Which catch did'ja want?" she tosses right back at that blonde. "Gettin' to know ya will be rife with me hittin' on ya, although I could stop if yer the catch of not-a-chance." Still, "What unpleasant surprise will they find?" she has to ask now. She's wryly curious. When Tayte explains further on what she means on weyr parties, "Ahhh, yeah," she voices that she gets it, nodding a few times. "Yeah, we do that, too. My clutchmate, M'ron, does every now and then. I imagine most others do, too. The ones with the large, accomodatin' weyrs. I personally don' since my weyr's just not big enough. Any party I throw is a private affair."

"What happens once he remembers my name?" Tayte, of course, now wishes to know of Tacuseth, if he's only to be good to her until then. "I'm the catch of taking-an-awful-lot-of-persistence, most likely. Too much too fast isn't my way." Anymore. The sense of the word seems to be attached though the word itself isn't spoken. Perhaps Jo is shrewd enough to pick up on it. "A cranky roommate," comes the easy answer to the question she's posed. "Not the least conducive to a nice night of drinking and-- whatever else might come, if one were to be patient enough to be clearly invited." Fortune may favor the bold, but patience earns its own rewards. "M'ron. You'll have to suggest I mix for the next one he throws. My fingers need the practice before the nimbleness goes right out of them."

"He'll remember ya over a memory in me sometimes," Jo says on her blue with a slight shrug. "He's always siftin' through my head. Harder to remember with dragons, though, since he's really the only one I bother with. Their memories can be wonky like that, I hear." Tayte's next though, does earn her some silent consideration, the bluerider inclining her head a bit to the words both spoken and not spoken. "I can respect that," she vocalizes now with a grin. "Certainly better than a drink in the face." There's some laughter to that, and the on the cranky roommate bit, "I bet ya can be," wryly to that. "I'll also let M'ron know. He's always down for a pretty face in his weyr, doin' stuff." There's a twitch of lips to that. "Which speakin' of," she's straightening, looking towards the entrance before getting to her feet with a slap of her hands on her lap, "they call." She flashes Tayte a smile before she adds, "Looks like playtime's up."

"Well, I can be, Tayte admits, and this hints that she didn't mean herself as the cranky roommate, but there's no time for corrections as Jo makes ready to depart. It seems a spur of the moment whim that has the blonde downing the rest of the drink and sliding out of her own seat. "I should be going as well. You never know if someone might come along to try to take advantage of all the time you put in to get me the other forty percent of the way to a stranger's bed. I hear there are some very unwholesome sorts that frequent this place." She flashes a cheeky grin towards Jo. Once the brunette is standing, she steps to face her. "I've never been much good at thank yous or goodbyes, so perhaps this will serve for both." And unless Jo looks like she's about to sprint for the hills, Tayte will hold a breath before leaning in press her lips to those of the bluerider, eyes flickering briefly closed for the contact.

Watching her get to her feet and approach, "Somethin' tells me that they'll find ya not to be an easy sell," Jo notes on Tayte being taken advantage. "Unless they're like me, just tryin' to see what yer made of. Unwholesome sorts do tend to frequent any place totin' booze, really." She's in that lump, apparently, but the bluerider doesn't seem to mind one bit. She was about to make her farewells until the blonde does in the way that she does. Lingering there against the table, Tayte's lips does meet her own with just the hint of a chuckle coming from deep within. Chuckling at the unexpected move, "Nice to meet ya, too," she has to quip, turning with a lasting, feathered look all over the blonde. "Now I've got somethin' to remember ya by," and essentially, Tacuseth. "Pleasure was all mine, darlin'. Hope ya get the gig-" she jerks her head back towards the bar where the bartender can be seen, "-here, soon. Till then," and she finally takes a step away from the table, doing up the front of her riding jacket in preparation, "I'm sure we'll run into each other again."

"Didn't want you leaving without getting a glimpse of what I'm made of." Tayte breathes softly in a barely audible whisper when their lips part. As she steps back, reaching back to her seat to pull up a brown knit wrap, "I wouldn't get your hopes up for more of those anytime soon. I'm a harder sell when alcohol hasn't been doing the work." Not that she seems much affected by the drinks. Then Jo's stepping away, "I'll gladly waste your time anytime you can find me." Her expression shows amusement, but underneath, she allows her enjoyment to be seen for a moment before stepping off in the opposite direction.