Difference between revisions of "Logs:Short-Term Returns"

It's Bitra, it's snowy. There are nice parts of the Hold, surely, and then there are less nice parts. This part is a semi-respectable bar, with the obligatory gambling in full swing. The lights are dim, card and dice tables are busy, and the floor is slick with the wet footprints of patrons. Some time ago, I'zech came on a Sabella who was itching to get out of the Weyr for something other than drills or wing shadowing, and so with a diffident shrug from the bronzerider, they ended up here. And now, with their plates mostly empty and a drink or two put away, I'zech leans back in the booth, a sullen eye cast across the room. "So, your deal with Jo. Is that... exclusive?"

I'zech may look sullen eyed around the crowd, but Sabella's a bit more bright about it. Even if there's something contained about her attitude, she gingerly sips at her drink as she redirects her attention onto him again. His question has her inching forward on her side, elbows leaning onto the table. "No." That answer is given firmly, a certainty to it. Her smile is quick to come however, quietly sly. "No one ever told me it was."

It's the forward wiggling of weight, her inching lean, that brings I'zech's gaze back to the girl across from him, brief and without change in his expression other than a pinching around the eyes. "So if I needed a body on something..." He doesn't finish the thought, just lets his gaze settle on a woman pouring drinks some tables down.

He looks bored, almost. While she appears like a girl that's more into the guy than the guy is into the girl. At least for the purposes and perspective of an outsider looking on them from across the bar. She tempers a smile with another delicate sip of her beer, plate of greasy food pushed off to the side. "Sure. Upfront, I don't do the rough stuff." She glances in the direction of his gaze before cutting back to him. "But you're probably aware of that."

The rough stuff. Despite all his dull glances across the bar, now I'zech cracks a smirk. "Really." Big surprise there, but he snorts out a laugh. "I had you pegged for the rough and tumble kind. One of those that coils around like a tunnelsnake and lands twenty blows while your opponent is still trying to figure out where you are." It's all droll, but then more seriously. "Nothing rough. Just a drop. I have a little... scheduling conflict."

"Really." Sabs answers before hiding her smile behind the glass again. "More like a spider. Startling for a second but gone so fast you hardly remember I was even there." She wiggles the fingers on her hand like so many little bug legs. "Unless you're afraid of them. In which case, I'm still damn hard to find." All joking aside, she is listening to the important parts giving a simple nod of acknowledgement for them. "Where and when?"

"Mm, I know someone who can be like that," I'zech admits, brows high and gaze low as he watches her dancing spider-fingers. "Not afraid." He reaches for his beer again to tip back a long, unhurried drink. In the midst of it, he seems to really, more closely, register the excitement that Sabella has been wearing, that more-into-the-guy appearance. He quirks a brow like he doesn't quite believe any of that. "Tomorrow night. Near Sattle. Rojeth can show you." Well, Ghislaith, clearly. "I've got some information coming."

She drinks again, this time putting an index finger to her lips for his look of skepticism. It's more interesting if everyone else thinks they're something other than what they seem or, "Practice." This is accompanied by an easy roll of her slim shoulders as she traces the rim of the glass and flases him a smile. Calculatingly suggestive and genuine enough in appearance, if he were someone else she might get it past him. "I'm free. So I'm picking up? Do you want it at your weyr or your place?" And then, because a touch of curiosity gets to her: "Anything exciting?"

A chuckle rumbles in his chest when her finger makes a secret of their little ploy for onlookers. I'zech shakes his head -- maybe to claim it's unnecessary, or maybe because it's not all that much better for him to go on a date with a weyrling -- but he's still got that smirk in place either way. Maybe, to people glancing their way, it looks like she's just made some kind of inroad. "Exchange. I don't know if he's delivering a letter or a packet or just... has something to say. But I've got something for him, he's got something for me. And I can't reschedule it." So a brow cocks in question: is she still up for it. As for whether or not it's exciting, the grin deepens to something sly. "I guess we'll find out."

When he shakes his head, her smile only deepens and creates dimples. It may very well look like inroads. And even though it's not, she's at the least vastly entertained with it and how he maintains the smirk. "I guess we will." It would appear that she's still up for it, having not given him any negative. Sabs plays with condensation on the side of the glass. "Do you know what he's like?" She asks, seeming to be serious in this at least.

I'zech takes a drink. "Bit of a skinny fucker. Buck teeth. Maybe forty -- hard to say." Is that the kind of information she's looking for? His tongue slides over his teeth, thinking. "I don't know much about him. Narigan. I'm sure he's a great guy, loves flower and puppies and his mother." The brow cocks again, because obviously guys who meet in shady locations about mysterious things, they're usually really good guys.

"Aw, puppies." Sabella tips her glass back and enjoys a longer draw from her beer. "I don't know if that's going to get me past the buck teeth and lack of physique." The flash of teeth he's met with should be enough to make it clear that's about all she really wanted to know. The rundown of his sister's brothers' kid's nephews plans for the future won't be necessary this time around. "I'll be there tomorrow to meet Narry, no problem."

All the flippancy has I'zech narrowing his gaze again, though some hint of amusement still lingers in one tightened corner of his mouth. "Lucky Narry." But then he splits a broad, sharp smile and shifts to lean forward, elbows on the table like hers. The sudden appearance of interest doubtlessly looks like a guy who finally decided to buy in to the flirtations for short-term returns. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Indeed." Sabs smiles cheekily at him before finishing off the mug of beer she's been nursing. The play-along of his elbows onto the table prompts a short round of delighted laughter. It's of course not for the reason the man sitting behind I'zech likely thinks it's for, but that doesn't matter. Sliding her glass across so that it clinks against his she begins to slip out of the booth, "Why not? I'm sure we can find better things to get into, right?"