Difference between revisions of "Logs:Trading Addictions"

Evening at the Snowasis is in full swing. After a hard day of drills, many of the Glacier wing riders can be seen all over the place - drinking it up, gambling, and playing some darts. One black leather-clad bluerider among them is at the bar counter, hair mussed up and a potent mug in her hand as she watches the closest card game from afar - and, checks out the small crowd at the same time.

Bones' entrance to the snowasis can politely be referred to as barging, a bit of teeth shown at one corner of his mouth as he's bumped into by a duo of raucous youths, and giving the pair of them a shove back that might have been worthy of a brawl had the two not been so delightfully drunk to not take it personal. As they stumble their way back to their group of friends, Bones pushes his way through the crowds to get his way to the bar. The gardener is grumpy. The gardener hasn't had his klah.

With the large frame of Bones darkening a shadow to Jo's left, she turns to regard him just as she raises her mug to her lips. She lifts a hand to try and grab his attention as he makes his way over, noting his expression with keen interest. There's laughter off to the side where the darts are being played - someone must have scored big-time. "Hey Bones," she calls out behind that laughter, trying to beckon him closer as she sets her mug on the counter. "What's good, darlin'? Somethin' gotcha down?"

"Hhmph?" A questioning grunt, not so much for Jo specifically, but for the sound of his name piercing it's way through the cacophony of busy bar noises. "Jo..." he smiles in recognition, and tugs out a barstool to mount. "Just need my fix. I turn into a real asshole when I ain't had my klah." A hand brushes up past his forehead to clear errant dreads from the side of his face. "My fault for tryin' to cut back I s'pose. How you been, doll?"

"You? Asshole? Naw..." Jo is smiling right back, leaning an elbow back on the counter. "So does this mean I ain' gettin' my kiss until ya had yer klah? And what's up with cuttin' back?" She drains her mug right then and turns to set it down and lifts two fingers in the air to flag the bartender down for them. Answering his last then, "Tired, with these drills tryin' to break our backs," she says, glancing his way with a weary but crooked smile. "Girl still has to earn outside the Weyr through it all, too. Been thinkin' it's high time I take a break-trip to somewhere and cause a little ruckus." There's a wink for that last, too. "What about ya? The greenhouse still treatin' ya good?"

"Hah! Right right, where are my fuckin' manners?" One of his thick-fingered hands reaches around to wrap around the back of Jo's neck, the grip there firm but stopping just short of what one would call posessive. It helps tug her in as he leans forward, having to crane his head downward to even reach her lips what with the height difference. After a few seconds of smoldering smooch, he breaks off, and runs his tongue over his white teeth. "... that's the first taste of booze I've gotten goin' on nearly twelve turns. Always knew you'd corrupt me. Now.. uhh, the greenhouse?" It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, for a handful of reasons. "Well I'm getting the calluses back on my hands with all the work. Y'could probably tell eh?"

There's that low, rustic laughter from Jo at the first before she meets his lips, her grin probably felt against his lips in that brief time before its smokiness breaks. Bones' words on her whiskey-kissed corruption turns that suggestive smirk up a notch in response. The bar tender comes right then, and without looking his way, "More of the same for me, and klah for my dearest friend, here." She waits before he leaves before she says, "Ya think liquored kisses is the only way of corruption I would lead ya down? I have many a card up my sleeve, darlin'." Eyes drop to study his hands then before she gives an acknowledging nod and, "Very much so. Seems like a simple suggestion from me long before turned out to work in yer favor. I need to come down there sometime and pick out some flowers for my table."

Bones' fingers tap incessantly at the bar as he waits of his drink, though thankfully they're only seen and not heard through the thick sounds of snowasis in full swing. "Hmm?" Again, his mind is a little out of sorts, and there's a pause before he gets to her teasing question. "Hey now, if you're gonna start turnin' me wicked, you know your lips'll do the trick faster than the..." another pause, this time with a smack of his lips to take a second taste. "Rum?" It has been a while. "If you want flowers, I think I got just the beauties in mind. Got these new Purple Roses maybe?"

The bartender returns, passing Bones a steaming mug of klah and Jo another cold mug of whiskey. Lifting hers, "Thought ya were already wicked for me to turn?" she quips back, nodding for him to take up his mug and be merry. "And it's whiskey. Sure ya don' wanna taste?" Yeah, she's the ultimate bad influence as she gently swirl the liquid contents in her mug towards him with that little smile in place. "Or ya prefer to just taste it off my lips. Either would do the trick, and one's even safer." It sounds enticing, coming from her. She takes a healthy drink of it now, nodding at his suggestion as she echoes, "Purple roses, huh? Think I could go for that. I'm not the picky sort. Just somethin' that makes my little temptress den look classier. I could come by, check'em out and pick'em up." Nodding towards the steaming mug, "So what's up with the klah rationin'?" she prompts.

Bones does eye the swirling mug of drink for a second or two, but behaves himself with a chuckle and clutch of his klah. "I'm still plenty wicked..." he chuckles out, with a touch of protest in his tone. "That's why I don't need any help." He motions towards her swirled glass of whiskey with his own mug of klah, and then takes a sip of the stuff, giving a wolfish growl of appreciation for the taste. "Your lips will do just fine. In the meantime, if you're goin' for classy maybe something in white." That bit of musing is more for himself, but it doesn't distract him from the question about his klah. "Just felt like cuttin' back a little bit that's all. I drink the stuff like water."

Laughing, "Resistin' temptation, even from one such as me," Jo drawls as she resumes her leaned-back-elbow slouch against the bar to regard the other patrons again. "One day I'm goin' have ya put yer actions where yer mouth is on wicked, darlin'," and she passes Bones a sidelong look. "Especially since my lips will do just fine. Now, ya have any white flowers? Purple seems good enough with me. I like purple. I'll take a look at'em and decide." His answer on his klah intake has her regarding him now more than the patrons, eyeing the klah before she replies, "Ya only drink it at all to save yerself from drinkin' this-" and she lifts up her mug of liquor briefly. "Ain' worried 'bout cravin' the stuff again? Since it's been workin' so far."

With an annoyed sigh, Bones admits freely. "Yeah, just tradin' one addiction for another. Got that type of personality I suppose. Course, if I stopped downin the klah, I wonder where I'd turn next. Fist fightin'? Fellis?" As he ponders, a grin creeps out across his expression. "Or maybe just you, eh?" With a turn in his seat, he gets down to more serious business. "Purple and white. Together. That'd work for your complexion I'm thinkin'. We get a nice bunch together in a dark vase, like black? Boom. Classy, and all you."

With a cheeky smile that's all teeth, Jo slaps Bones on his thigh and remarks, "Ain' no better addiction than me!" perhaps in jest. Probably not, though, knowing her ego. "But yeah, I get it though. Addiction and shit. I likely need to lay off on the liquor myself, but..." there's a non-commital shrug to that. "Well, it ain' gonna happen. Guess we all got our dependency issues. Don' think nothin' wrong with it, so long's it don' getcha dead or anythin' like it." She drains half her mug and sets it down, adding briskly, "Ya don' wanna be hooked on fellis, though. Knew someone outside the Weyr that had it bad. That stuff's one of the worst. Fightin' pretty clean, though. Are ya still trainin' Mave? Maybe ya can get into some ring stuff on the outside. Make some marks on the side." His suggestion on the floral arrangement has her silent for only a moment as she seems to be giving it some thought before she gives a firm nod of her head. "Shit ya really found yer nitch in this gardenin' business, eh?" As in, she the idea works for her.

Bones downs his klah alongside her whisky, the gesture not quite having the same intensity given the contents of their mugs, but the big man keeping pace just the same. "You seem like you do your business just fine, plastered or no. It ain't a problem till it becomes a problem, know what I mean?" No judgements levied on her choice of dependency, though as she offers an alternative to simple klah drinking to get his kicks, he noticeably perks up and sits a bit taller. "Y'mean you get paid?" He's unfamiliar with the world of professional combat, if it can be called that. "Flowers are nice and all, I like 'em plenty, but... if you could give me a ride someplace where I could talk to some folk about maybe gettin' some scraps in.... wait, s'that shit legal?"

"Well I try not to be plastered when it comes to gettin' shit done," Jo notes wryly on her end. "I'm done for the night, so I can come in here and get plastered without havin' to worry about messin' somethin' up. Unless they call." Which, apparently, does happen. Now talks of fighting seems to be something she knows a bit more about, so when she studies Bones appearing interested, there's just that pert lift of her mouth to it. "Ya get paid if ya win," she answers that easily enough. "Depends on where. Some let ya wager on or against yerself without any added fees on the bookie's part, but those rings tend to be ran a little dirtier. I've been to a few, before I got here." Before Tacuseth. And of course, his last question on whether it's legal or not earns him one of her familiar dangerous grins. Chin dropping as she fits a look onto him, her voice having lowered, even, "I dunno any legal ones, do you?" she questions him right back. "Dunno what folks got against an honest livin' with yer fists. Better we duke it out in a controlled place than out in some business establishment while yer drinkin' yer cider, I always say. I see nothin' wrong with it." Leaning forward a little, "If ya want, I can take ya to a few good rings I know. They won' stiff ya or treat ya dirty. There's one I frequent and fight in, but I might have to pass some words around before I can get ya a talk there."

As Jo continues to talk, Bones face and posture can't help but fall a tad, even starting to look downright frustrated towards the end. "Can't risk gettin' locked up again..." he says in a low voice, his tone thick with disappointment. With a heavy sigh, he turns to eyeball his mug of klah. "Fuck. I'd be so damn good too. If you thought gardenin' was my niche, then you ain't seen me bust heads yet." The last of his drink is downed on that note, cup returned to the bar with a loud smack. "I appreciate you offerin' to get me in the door though, corruption in mind or not." His disappointment lifts with a smirk fired her way.

With speculation in her eyes, "I ain' locked up," Jo notes about risks, a brow lifting. "The place I play at takes care of its own. Y'ain' gonna expect no guards to be bustin' in and shit. I'd love to see ya fight, ya know." Chuckling shortly as she gestures around them, "Ya know, this Weyr could do with a good tournament or two," she seems to tease. "With all the tension in the air, and somebody pissin' off somebody else. Since bronzeriders 'round here love to sucker punch each other, a friendly sort of event would at least blow off some steam for these folks. Certain people would likely see somethin' like that so barbaric, but," she shrugs, the action breezy. "Ain' nothin' to it, really. Barrin' that, if ever ya change yer mind, just gotta say the word. Tac and me can be real discrete and everythin'. No one knows the sort of shit I do outside the Weyr, after all," and with that little smirk, she drains her mug.

Now there's a bit of perk in the man, growing taller as he listens to just how safe these fights were, at least in the way that matters to him. "Hey, I've been in my fair share of little..." what to call them, as fights sound too grand. "... spats. Y'know, since I arrived. Nothing tournament worthy though." He smirks as he remembers the satisfaction of putting people in their place, but then remembers the reaction it got out of Azaylia, and he's frowning again. "I'unno, something about gettin' Mave in shape put the temptation back in me. And now here you are nurturin' it huh? Hehe." Now his fingers tap at the bar again, taking a few seconds to ponder it. A few seconds isn't enough time. "Well you know me, always tryin' to be good, for whatever that's worth on Pern." He sighs. "I'll think about it. In the meantime, I got flowers to worry about. Yours. You'll give me a few on decidin' whether to take you up on the offer eh?"

"Then ya'd appreciate what a little friendly tournament could bring to this here Weyr," Jo is all persuasive, or, seeming to be with that smile and her warm tone. "I bet a few here would enjoy. Nothin' wrong with nurturin' somethin' that's in ya, Bones. Folks like ya and me need the action, any way we can get it," and she doesn't seem to be talking just about the fighting. "And well, ya figure out bein' good, while I linger on the not part of that good," naturally. "Think on it. Take all the time ya need. There's no rush. Meantime, we talk flowers. We talk all usual things." Usual dirty things, even, by the look on her face. "And we can talk Mave. She's improvin'. Think ya and I make a good team, there."

"Well here's to being the good guy then, you bad girl you." He lifts his empty mug and playfully taps it into the side of hers. "Mave's got some real fire in her, don't she? I admit, I'm half expectin' her to quit everytime I come up with some horrible new way to train her conditioning, ha!" He scratches at the back of his head and looks to the side, thoughts going to the girl. "I figure I'd let you handle all the ins and outs of throwin' kicks and punches. You got the edge on technique. You've had to, bein' a small one. Me? I want to give her tastes of what it's like to really be in it. Exhausted, hurtin', nervous." When framed like that, he has to laugh. "Ha! Damn do I miss it."

With his mug tapping to hers, "I don' think ya want me any other way," Jo quips on being bad. "I am who I am, and one of yer best qualities is yer acceptin' that." A quiet thanks, if that. Moving onto Mave, there's a fond smile for the young woman before she answers with, "She does. I was like her, once, before I left home. She's strong. Resilient. She doesn' want to do the wrong thing, like you. I can respect that." Smirking a bit, even if it's a tinge sober, "She shouldn' hang with a sort like me, but at the same time, I don' wanna turn her away," she admits to Bones with a helpless shrug. "It's good, ya teachin' her that. I can tell she's improvin' with what ya have her doin'." His last has her laughing, stating back, "Somethin' tells me ya made for it. Did much of it back home? Or was it just barfights?"

Talk of being back home has him quiet for a second or two, but still smiling. "Made for it? I'unno, maybe if I got into flowers instead of fistfights, I woulda come out different. Less ink, probably." He grins big, and lifts one of his arms to flex a bicep at Jo, plenty of the ink in question on display, as well as thick muscle. "Now built for it, that I could see, hehe." Masculine display is ended with his elbow leaning down onto the bar, focusing on Mave again. "See, just you worryin' bout how you're influencin' that girl? Goes to show you ain't quite as bad as you think you are." He chuckles to himself as he tries to flag down the bartender. "Then again, I'm the one itching to bloody some noses, so I ain't all good neither. Guess we'll just keep meetin' in the middle."

With Bones flexing one of his biceps, Jo traces one of the tattoos found there with one long finger. While doing so, "But ya didn'," she says of him getting into flowers instead of fistfights. "Just like me. We went down the path we did, and it's too late to change it. I can' even imagine ended up someone's wife if I stayed in Keogh." She makes a little face to that, shaking her head. She drops her hand once he drops his arm, returning to her lean against the counter as the talk of Mave and her influence earns her snort. "Now, let's not get too hasty about my ill-used conscious," she teases in a drawl, amused. "Just cuz I don' wanna rub off on her, don' mean I won. Sometimes it's just inevitable. The smart thing's to stay away from her, and yet, here I am." One shoulder lifts and fall. "But maybe yer influence her more than I, eh? Seems to be workin' so far. She hasn' tried to punch me again, yet." That's something.

There's another appreciative growl from the man, though this time not for klah, but for her touch. It passes as soon as the contact ends, and he gets back on track. "You're making me sound like her pops now." He gives up on flagging the bartender, deciding maybe to give himself a small break on the klah after all. He could come back later, when it isn't so busy. "You're right, if she decides she wants to live your kind of life, then there ain't nothing we can say to stop her." He does his best to sound disinterested, but his faces softens up as he pushes up from the bar to a standing position. "But if it'll ease your conscience a little? How 'bout I say I'll try and steer her more towards klah than whiskey, eh?" He puts one of his heavy mitts in against her lower back, and leans in a touch so he won't have to shout in order to be heard. "I got work left to do, but if you don't find any better company before this evening runs out, you know where to find me, don't you bad girl?" He fires her a wink at that.

"Reckon yer somethin' to her," Jo counters on Bones being Mave's father, grinning for that growl that comes from him. "It's likely she won' be livin' my kind of life, darlin'," she goes on to say about Mave. "I think she's better than I am, there. Perhaps trouble is my addiction, eh?" It's said soberly, with her empty raised in a brief toast. When he stands, his words on conscience easing has her murmuring, "I don' got one. But, it's good she has ya, Bones. I'll be the one tryin' to get her to taste whiskey on her next turnday." Good side, bad side. She straightens up with his touch to her back, lifting her chin to him for his last before she rumbles out a sultry, "I know where to find ya. Until then, take care, ya hear? Don' forget my offer, in case distraction comes yer way tonight." She doesn't need to say what sort.

"Distractions, pfft." He takes a few steps away from her, walking backwords his arms stretched out to his sides. "I'm the gardener. What kind of distractions am I gonna find, eh?" As if on cue, he backs right into a rough looking, bearded glacier-rider. A mug of beer is spilled, and before the man can voice his obvious anger, Bones has his hands on the his shoulders, all smiles. "Whoa. Sorry bud. Hey, your next one's on me, alright? Just hit the bar and tell 'em it's on Bones. He'll know." Bones keeps slipping off into the crowd without even caring for the man's response, which is more befuddlement than the fight he was expecting. "Hit me up later, Jo!" Yelled just as he slips beyond view, and heads back to his safe, boring greenhouse.