Difference between revisions of "Logs:Different Kind Of Animal"

It's not too late into the night for Jo and Tacuseth to be dropping by someone's place, but then, the bluerider never really was the sort to bother with such courtesies. If she wants to visit, she'll visit, and she's doing so now. "Yo, Vi!" she's calling out as she drops down from Tacuseth's side, dressed in her black riding leathers with her hair wild and slightly damp to suggest she had just came from the baths. She'll stand on the ledge for a few moments before heading on in, not even bothering to check if the bluerider has company or is dressed or anything like that.

There's only Oswinth to provide the initial greetings, his surprise at having company tucked away in short order to offer a welcoming rumble and a polite dip of his head to Tacuseth and Jo. The little blue turns to look toward the passage to the weyr, an invitation of sorts, whethr Jo requires one or not. And inside, a little fire is burning in the hearth, providing most of the light while Vienne sits on the floor sorting through her clean laundry, creating neat little piles. She is dressed, not in jacket and scarves, but just a sweater and some slim pants, nice but casual. With the warning she's received, her eyes are already lifted toward the entry as her hands ball up some socks and add them to the others. The smile she wears is light but curious. "Hi."

Tacuseth is far more welcoming than his rider, as demonstrated by the brush of a greeting that's all bluster and the sound of falling rocks. His is all hot air blasts and grit, a mind presence that could crowd despite his touch being quite light. Jo approaches Vienne and watches her with her laundry, hands falling to rest of her wiry hips as she studies the other. To that light greeting, "Hey yerself," she drawls with a touch of wryness. "Thought I could talk to ya about somethin', face to face." At this time of the night? Her tone gives nothing away, even, though there's perhaps an odd intensity in her dark eyes that might lend hint to one thing or another.

See, there's plenty to be curious about and now Vienne's eyebrows lift a little higher as she regards the dark woman standing there, down and up again. Given the hour, the look in Jo's eye and the fact that wanting to talk is usually about something rather serious, there's a pause before the smaller bluerider nods. "Sure. Yeah. Just let me..." She starts to get to her feet, gathering some of those piles into her arms so she can carry them toward the trunk at the back of the weyr. Jo can choose whether she wants to follow after her hostess, take a seat in that one chair by the fire or just stand around poking at things, but there is damn little to poke. Despite the time that has passed since she arrived, Vienne still hasn't decorated much beyond a rug and the useful placement of trunks and chairs. There is a small painting on the mantle, at least, showing the coastline of somewhere tropical.

Jo lets Vienne look her up and down, only the twitch of one brow any indication of her amusement. She seems rooted to the spot as Vienne starts to rise, but once she gathers some of the laundry, the convict rider makes her move. She's suddenly -there- in Vienne's personal space, and the woman tries to snake an arm about the Igenite's slim waist to bring her forward and right against her harder body. With the smell of leather and spice, and that laundry probably now crushed between their bodies, the tall woman lifts long fingers draw a strand of hair from Vienne's face that's a gentle move in contrast to the aggressive one she's pulled as she says, "Well, not quite talk," she notes, her voice low, almost a purr. "Since I'm a flame and all, I've come to burn." She alludes to the words Vienne said in H'vier's presence that night in the bar, a brow lifting pointedly.

So... neither following her around or taking a seat. Got it. To say that Vienne would not expect this particular turn of events is probably something of an understatement, given that she has a confused sidestep for Jo's approach as if she's concerned about being in the other bluerider's way rather than any oncoming contact. That assumption is swiftly corrected by the arm around her waist. Her back stiffens in surprise and she's all eyes over the bundle of laundry, big blue eyes staring up at Jo and completely unaware that a few balled socks have just gone tumbling away. "Jo," she says, breathlessly started, smile tugging at open lips. "What are you..." Doing? Her laugh is a little nervous, but she doesn't pull away. "No, that's not talking," she agrees with that chuckle, less of a sound and more of a sensation the other woman can feel in that sure embrace.

Jo keeps that arm about to the small of Vienne's back in firm place, the contact ensuring that the slight woman is against her - well, if only that laundry wasn't in the way! Her smile is pure predatory along with her husky voice, watching the other's reaction like a hawk. "I think ya know what I'm doin', darlin'," she notes in response to that unfinished question. "Drop the laundry. Can' talk to ya with it -here-." As in, here, between them. It's almost authoritative, her words, too. Then, after a moment's breath, "That stunt ya pulled back in Snowasis," she notes, letting humor bleed through. "With those harper words. Ya think there wouldn' be an repercussions, little temptress?" With her, especially.

Vienne closes her mouth, the smile tugging slyly toward one side to reveal that yes, she knows that Jo has in mind. It just makes her eyes flick about a little more uncertainly, meeting the other woman's gaze, checking the shape of her mouth, falling low toward the protective layer of laundry that keeps them being being bodily smashed together. And maybe she looks a little sheepish for those harper words, lips tucking in between her teeth as her lashes stay low. "So you figure you'll just come up here, lay me out and... see if you can set me on fire?" There's a little teasing in those words, both flippant and quiet as they are. Vienne draws in a long, deep breath, squeezing the laundry that she has made no move to release, and she lifts her gaze again to find dark eyes. "Jo..." It starts out lost, but the small bluerider's expression calms and she smiles sweetly. "Maybe you should sit down."

"See if yer were playin' around or serious as fuck, yeah," Jo is bold in her counter response, not moving off the woman just yet. "And, I wouldn't fully lay ya out, darlin'. Just wanna see how yer drawn to this 'fire' of mine, huh?" Easily playful right back, and she's well aware of the laundry between them as she adds lower now, "So how 'bout ya drop the protection and give me a little taste of ya, hm?" And it's all kinds of enticing. All kinds of challenge in those piercing dark eyes of hers. Once Vienne meets her gaze and speaks of sitting down, "What for? Are ya gonna sit on my lap?" she asks in counter, a brow lifting at her in continued playfulness. She even eyes the seat in question, as if that was the last thing she was wanting to do right now.

Not fully laid out? Vienne cocks a dubious brow, not believing that claim at all. But, with her mouth still caught in that smile, a little more sly than it is probably wise to be, the pale woman extracts a hand from the laundry, from between the press of their chests, and lifts it to lay light fingers at Jo's collar. "Jo," she says again, chin lifted a little more, the softness of her voice, the pause of it, lending a gentle kind of weight when she tells her more surely: "Sit down." It might even sound like there's a promise in there somehow.

Test of wills, this is! Jo's predatory smile still lingers, but her eyes narrow a fraction to the repeat command. Like a canine that sees a meal and has a one-track mind, anything else is taken with slight bemusement. Sit down? What the hell why?? She eyes that sly little smile and the fingers that go to her leathered collar now, the softness of words getting her piqued curiosity as she finally speaks. "Ya aren' gonna harper me, are ya?" she asks to that, playfully suspicious. "Cuz there's no need for it. Ain' scared of little ole' me, are ya?" Challenge to those words once more, but at least - at least! - she's sliding her holding arm from behind Vienne's back, releasing her from her proximity as she takes only a single step back in the direction of that chair.

Vienne is patient, waiting while all those negligible little thoughts try to filter in through Jo's prowling intensity. "Mm, yes," she answer quietly, laced with dry humor. Her voice is teasing, light, as if there's no chance that harpering is on the menu, and yet, at as a harper, it's unlikely she chooses words by mistake, no matter how little suggestion there is in their delivery. "I'm going to teach you all kinds of new songs." That said, she does seem a smidge more confident when Jo takes a step back and Vienne lets her hand drift down the front of her leather jacket -- though without enough pressure to feel anything beneath it -- before both her arms are wrapped around her clothes again. "I'm not scared," she says, perhaps even believabley so. "I'm just going to put away my laundry." Her grin quirks brighter, playful, and she turns again toward the rear of the weyr. Apparently she thinks Jo will actually take a seat.

It's obvious Jo has to work through her lust-soaked brain to something resembling logic and civility, so the convict rider inclines her head to that and merely states on songs, "So long as they're songs ya'll be singin', darlin'. The kind that don' really need words, too." Well, civility only goes far with her, but, with a hand running through her slightly damp hair, she's finally pushing herself away from the slight woman and letting her get to her laundry. Chair, right. She takes a look around the weyr finally, noting the new additions from the last time she's been there before she drops herself unceremoniously into a chair and crosses her legs. "Not scared," she echoes that in a drawl, checking the place out as she stretches her arms over both armrests. "Yeah, we'll see about that." Letting her head fall back, "So what didja think about him, anyway?" She assumes Vienne would figure she means H'vier.

"I've been told I have a fine voice," Vienne returns, as if the suggestion that she'll be putting that voice to less-than-scripted use barely happened at all. Barely, because she still has a knowing flash in her eye when she glances back at Jo. The smaller woman doesn't hurry to get her clothes put away, but nor does she linger unncessarily. The truck is opened, items nestled in their spots, and she leaves the lid as it is before turning back. Rather than bending to pick up the escapee socks, she just nudges them with her foot toward the rest of the unsorted clothes that remain on the rug. "I thought that we'd tease him merciless and you could reap the benefits," she muses on the undefined 'him'. A brow lifts, "Did you?" She sinks to take a seat on the trunk, which acts as a low table in front of Jo's chair, her knees pressed together, hands holding the trunk's edge on either side of her legs. "He has quite a mouth on him," she remarks as well, sounding a bit impressed. "I don't think he saw me, though." And with a pointed once-over of the striking, leather-clad bluerider, she explains why.

"Is that what ya were doin'," Jo notes on what happened with the bronzerider, watching Vienne intently with her clothes. "I was to reap the benefits of a tease directed at me?" She doesn't answer that question right away, watching the other as she sits on the trunk the way she does. Fingers idly rap against the armrest as if she was barely holding herself to that chair, but when Vienne says the last, "Yer blind to the wiles of a man such as him, darlin'," she drawls out, noting the pointed once-over with open amusement to lift one corner of her mouth. "He saw ya alright. He was down for the threesome ya were alludin' to. And he was tryin' to entice ya to the boys' side of things. As if I had ya," and gaze flicks right down her frame, and could be seen as undressing the woman with her eyes. "So no. I didn' reap any benefits, but I was curious. I see myself in him. Like men that aren' afraid to say what they want. I'm sure I'll see him again." So confident in that, in fact.

"Not directed at you," Vienne tries to claim, sheepishness in her smile, apology as well. "Perpetrated with you. But I guess I..." she draws in a long breath and shakes her head at whatever failure she's perceiving there. The drum of fingers lifts her gaze to Jo again, flicking over all that leather as if she can see the invisible shackles holding her in that chair. And though she might be so quick to label the whole thing at the Snowasis as naive folly on her part, she does lift her brows when Jo calls her blind. "No, I don't think so. It wasn't aimed at me. It was aimed at you." There's no jealousy in her tone, if anything, as she smiles on Jo, Vienne looks almost proud, as if the darker woman has achieved something holding the attention of a over-charged man whore. "I'm a different animal altogether."

"And the meanin' of those words?" Jo prompts now, studying Vienne with interest and curiosity now as she corrects the confusion at the bar. "I can' even recite them. Flames and being drawn to them. To aims, there's low laughter and a, "He figured what I'm about before ya showed up. I find it interestin', and curious, that ya don' see it as it was, though. Ya give me too much credit. I was just tryin' to get another free drink off the man." Knowing her. But then, it's the last that has her rapt attention, and the convict rider lifts a brow at her and goes, "Really. And what sort of animal is that?"

"I did say that," Vienne admits, glance dropping again as she smiles to herself. "I think it's true, too. You are like a fire. Heat just... radiates from you." But while her eyes are cast downward, they get caught by her laundry again, and so she levers herself off the trunk to kneel on the floor, ready to go back to her sorting. "I don't know," she answers, letting those run away socks now start a new pile. "I don't know what kind of animal I am. It sounds like you think my perception is a little off anyway. Maybe you know better." There's an all-but-silent laugh and a sweater folded efficiently. "But when someone is looking for good time, mine isn't usually the ledge they show up on." She might be saying it about H'vier, but she looks over at Jo, who surely knew this before coming to visit.

"Is that flattery or a compliment, or...?" Jo assumes there's a distinction between the two, the woman seeming amused by the words. "Ain' heard nothin' like that in regards to me." There's low laughter, brief as it is, to Vienne's next, hands lift up off the armrests briefly going outwards before she says, "I doubt it. I'm not sure what to think of ya, Vienne." Her name, a caress in her tone. "I'm still tryin' to figure ya out. I think ya like that I am." Hands drop and she suddenly leans forward in the chair, legs uncrossing as she does so with that lingering little smirk on her face. Does she take anything serious? To the last, this bold Glacier wingrider is stating with her bravado on display, "Ya can always slap me now and tell me to be on my way? Ya won' offend me, darlin'. Every now and then, my perception is wrong." Only every now and then, it seems. She doesn't seem worried about it, although there's a slight detection of an apology in her voice. Only slight. That's something!

This time, Vienne's laugh manages to have a little voice behind it. Flattery, compliment, "I guess that depends on how much you want to be like fire," she replies easily, pulling the last few pieces from her laundry sack. And if she inhales a little more deeply when Jo says her name like that, well, perhaps it's hard to notice those things while she goes about her work. "Are those the only responses you're used to getting? Fuck or fight?" she smirks over the dark bluerider, likely aware that the harsher language might seem out of place coming from her. "I don't want to slap you. And I don't need to send you away." She pauses there to wet her lips, to chew them together. "But if... You don't have to stay if you're disappointed." Jo did come in here looking for one thing, it would appear, and it doesn't look like it's going to be available.

"Well, I do burn all in my wake," Jo seems to tease, amused by the words given. "And, mostly. Fuck or fight. Had the life I've had, life sort of keeps ya pretty basic." She matches that smirk, though there's a flare of interest when Vienne doesn't want to slap her. "Ya said 'need'," she notes, seeming to not be out of the loop to word play. "Not 'want'." Perhaps there's a difference? Vienne's last naturally has a look fitted onto the slight woman, watching her as if she was gauging her responses. Then after a while, "So ya like bein' hard to get," she surmises, the incorrigible woman will likely never let up on her flirting. It's just her thing. "I get it." Perhaps that's answer enough, along with the bluerider not making any moves to get out of that chair. "I did come up here to let ya know Ertrand's willin' to commission that jacket for ya, too. Saw him the other day and he gave me swatches." Hand lifts to dig into an outer jacket pocket, revealing as she lifts it up the swatches of the colors and kinds of leather made before she dangles it in the air between them. Maybe she's not always a horndog. Just mostly.

"Who's harpering now?" Vienne retorts, letting her expression brighten as she turns that accusation on someone else for a change. But with the last of her clothing unpacked and sorted, she gathers it all up again and stands. Maybe she should have a reply for Jo's assessment, some wry commentary or hint of explanation, but she just stands there for a moment without either, and then turns to head back to that waiting trunk. It's while she's putting her things away that Ertrand comes up and she calls back, "Pants. I want suede pants." But there's excitement in her voice, and maybe a little hurry as she lets the trunk slam closed behind her so she can return to the hearth and the light and the swatches Jo holds out. She takes them, head bowed as she flips through the choices, and her weight shifts to one side as she stands there so close to Jo's knee, as though it would only take a little encouragement to persuade her to sit.

Jo's assessing. She's always assessing the situation, herself - Vienne. "I don' harper," she says simply, leaning back more comfortably in that chair. "I just do harpers." Right? She watches the slight woman with her laundry, the swatches held out and waiting before Vienne tells her what she wants from the tanner. "He can do ya up right," she says with certainty in her voice, nodding once the swatches are taken. "Love that man and his hands," and it doesn't even sound sexual from her. Imagine that. Of course, she notes Vienne's proximity, her knee propped and ready...even though no further come-ons come from her lips. Perhaps two could play that game! After a moment, "He'll give ya a fair price, too," she adds, seeming willing to speak on the man only. "When were ya thinkin' of gettin' this done?"

For the man with the hands, Vienne slips a sly look down at Jo, as if she can't quite believe there's nothing sexual in her love for the tanner and his skills. And as for the games, the leather-clad rider might be taking a gamble. When no encouragement comes, Vienne's posture straightens again and she holds the swatches out, rejects dangling and the chosen one between her fingers: suede, as she mentioned, in gray. "I thought we'd have gone by now, honestly, but I've been sick." And if Jo's other business has been holding things up, Vienne is hardly calling attention to it. "I should just go tomorrow. At this rate, it'll be spring before they're done and I'll be looking for something lighter." Okay, so she's exaggerating a bit about how long it will take to have pants made. She smiles down at Jo without the grin chasing a touch of something remorseful from her eyes.

To that sly look, Jo returns one that looks oh-so innocent. "Hey, what? Ya think I'm scewin' him too or somethin' Pshh!" and she waves one hand to that. "I'm not goin' there with him. He's business, and ya don' fuck with business." Simple as that for her. She watches Vienne with the swatches now, and hearing she was sick, "Sorry 'bout that, darlin'," she says, though, it's hard to tell if the apology is for Vienne being sick or for them not having gone yet. "And he's pretty good on time, too. But anyway. I did come by to drop off that and to see what ya wanted to come. I can shift some stuff around if ya wanna hit him up tomorrow. Unless ya wanted to hit him up just yerself. And also, to ask up about that night. Ya know." Pointed look.

Once Vienne picks up that she's supposed to hold on to the swatches, it gives her a fine reason to step away from Jo, to put the samples on the mantle where they'll be out of the way. "I don't want to inconvenience you," she says with a little shake of her head, not refusing company on the trip but not insisting on it either. "And I didn't mean to imply..." Well, it's not like Jo really took any offense at the suggestion that she'd sleep with her favorite tanner. She sniffs a little and slips her hands into her back pockets as she turns away from the fire to meet the other bluerider's stare. "What do you want me to say?" About that night, about that pointed look. "I don't know how to be that person who... drops the laundry."

"Ya wouldn' be," Jo counters on being there immediately, her eyes intent on her own. "We're friends, are we not? Well, I try to be. I know I can get to be a bit...much, at times," and that winsome smile's lighting up her face. "But I'm mostly harmless to my friends, and I'd like to think that we are." Makes sense to her! As to the implications, she's already waving that away with one hand again in a gesture that says, 'It's cool'. She remains easy, and so there was no offense. But then Vienne turns that stare upon her and the convict rider is all cavalier in her posture and the way she crosses her legs again. After a pause to her words, her taking a long flowing look over the slight woman before her, "Are ya afraid?" Again. She asks that again, simply. And then, perhaps even more thoughtfully, some of the bravado ebbing away from her gaze as she meets Vienne's, she adds, "Do ya trust me?"

Vienne starts to answer, but the very first sound seems to get stuck in her mouth, creating an akwardward pause before she agrees, "We're friends." She tries to make up for it with a quick nod, though her chin stays low and some kind of discomfort seems to tighten in her shoulders as she stands there. "You're not... too much. It's nothing like that. It's not you; you're fine." She lets her glance flick around the dim, empty space that is her weyr, from the blue chair Jo sits in to the dark shelf that is her bed, toward the ledge, where her blue safety net sits out of sight. But it might just be the way Jo grows a little somber that draws the smaller woman's attention back there. "I do." Her smile comes back, wan and wry. "Does that surprise you?"

To the awkward pause, Jo's brows twitch to that but she doesn't question. To her being too much, "I know I am," she disagrees wryly with a chin drop. "Not something I'm ashamed of, darlin', I just know who I am is all." She watches where those eyes go, and when she answers one of her questions now, "No," she's quick to answer at first. Then, "Maybe." Pause. Uncrossing her legs, "Do ya wanna come to me, then?" It's deliberate, her wording of the question now. It's not really a command - not like before. It's Jo, perhaps trying to figure the bluerider out. Or more to it than that.

Vienne remains right where she is, but at Jo's 'invitation' she lets her head drop, almost enough to hide the wide smile the creeps across her lips. "You are a lot," she admits with a quiet chuckle. "But you aren't too much." There's a touch more composure when she lifts her face again, turned so that she can regard the lounging bluerider from the corner of her eye, that smile lingering. "Am I suppose to leap into your lap now?" Her weight shifts to one skinny leg, but it's just so she can grind socked toes into the floor.

"Yeah, yeah," Jo drawls on not being too much. "Ya say that now. If I'm not too much, I would have my kiss by now. Or maybe, that's the game ya play, hmm? Or, maybe ya just not interested. Y'can tell me, darlin'," teasing and playful now, and she raps her fingers against the armrests of that chair. Waiting. And then her question gets open laughter, though it's short-lived. She lifts fingers up for her inspection on one hand, checking out her nails briefly before answering with, "I wouldn' say no to it. Ya don' have to. Maybe I just want to check out yer boots closer?" Yeah. That sounds feasible.

Vienne turns her head, like an aborted shake that only gets to one side and stops before she has to swallow. It could be for any of Jo's claims, about kisses, about games, about Vienne not being interested. The prey could answer and say she is, in fact, interested, but instead she just steps away from the fire, closing those short paces to stand rather uncertainly in front of Jo's chair. That's as far as she gets, though. No leap.

In the silence that follows, when Vienne moves to stand right before her, Jo lifts her head slowly to keep her eyes level with the other's. It's only a moment's breath before she uncurl herself out of that chair now, stretching to her full height with all lean muscle and slight curves to her leathered frame. Arms drop from that languid stretch and she deliberately takes a single step forward, putting her in Vienne's personal space. Predator stalks her prey, but this time she's more careful. Nothing aggressive nor possessive is done this time, the woman now simply standing there - her eyes on hers - watching. Perhaps even, waiting.

It might take Vienne a little effort not to instinctively back up, not to allow Jo more room to stand. But personal space isn't the point of this little exercise and so she stands her ground, letting the taller woman loom and stretch and invade just the edges of that space. And wait. She's so clearly waiting. Vienne lets her. She just keeps standing there, her hands still in her back pockets, her face barely lifted to meet Jo's gaze. She smiles and shrugs. "I guess I should call it a night."

When Jo stands there, Vienne doesn't seem to be making any moves. A knowing smile spreads from her lips as the silence stretches between them before Vienne speaks and the convict rider asks, "It's still early yet." No reason to sleep, clearly! But, having been more or less denied before, the bluerider is actually hesitating this time around. To the shrug and barely lifted gaze, "Guess I should be goin'," she drawls out then, taking a look around that leads toward the ledge briefly. "I keep forgettin' folks don' stay up til dawn like I do. Typical of me. Ya let me know if ya want me along for Ertrand, okay? Otherwise, yer blue and hit up Tac and he'll show him how to get ya to his place. Not far, really." She doesn't make to leave, though. In fact, she's still standing right there before her.

The longer they stand there, the more Jo hesitates, the more it might seem like the little bluerider, who could so easily be out of her element here, knows exactly what she's doing. For every parting phrase Jo has, Vienne's smile eases a little more, grows sure and sly. "Yeah," she finally says when Ertrand is mentioned. "I should get that done soon. I'll let you know when I'm going." So that Jo can come along, presumably, if she's available. But Jo doesn't seem to be going anywhere and Vienne hasn't taken her eyes off her.

Jo's hesitation is indeed there, and it's not something - well, it's not a position she clearly likes being in. Not this lady of the black leathers! She inclines her head to the words on the tanner, her gaze level with Vienne. The staring match could probably last all night, but the Glacier bluerider after a long moment of followed silence, finally releases her gaze from the woman. Just like that, her flashy bravado is back in place, that smile crooked and a touch curious as she says, "Guess I'll see ya around then, Vienne." This time she takes a backward step and runs a hand through her hair, starting to head out slowly without exactly turning her back on her. Not with that rakish gait of hers.

Oh, that smile does make Vienne grin, a happy excitement in the show of her teeth and the rise of her eyebrows. Even if Jo is moving off, even if she appears to be leaving, Vienne grins. And, like a good hostess, she follows, seeing her guest to the exit, slow steps pacing after that swaggering gait, her elbows still jutting out behind her. "Hey Jo," she mentions, a pause her pull her smile in, to wet her lips and pinch them between her teeth. "Are you going to come around again sometime?" It can't have been all bad, right? If she's invited back.

"Friends, right?" is Jo's answer to her coming back as she heads out towards the ledge to her waiting blue, so very easily. "I might even come by unannounced." Like tonite. Imagine that!