Difference between revisions of "Logs:Bones is very educational."

Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr(#267RJs)

Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis.

The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.

There comes a point in every man's day where he allows cute kitchen girls with tight, low cut shirts to distract him for awhile. And this bronzerider is certainly no exception to the rule. Leaning against one of the counters by the hearth, Z'ian hangs around with the more than sexy-voluptuous worker. There's an empty bowl and a spoon in one hand, evidence that he was going to get stew from the hearth when he came in at least. The head cook though, she doesn't look so friendly and she's bearing down on him and shaking her large wooden spoon. Not being so old that a woman with a spoon isn't moderately terrifying, he breaks off his conversation with a smile and vague reference to seeing the girl later. Now he'll walk the ten feet to get his dinner.

While some are preoccupied with the more succulent meats of live women, Bones is far more interested in something hot and dead. Making the mistake of skipping breakfast had caught up to him quick throughout the day, and the meaty stink of fresh stew had him constantly swallowing for fear of genuine drool running down his chin. He arrives to the stew just as Z'ian does, practically shoving him aside to get at the food. "Fuck off, I was here first." Low and aggressive, the words are spoken before the man actually takes the time to look at Z'ian, and his scowling face softens immediately at the sight. "Whoops! Ha, sorry! I'm so hungry I'm about to chew my own arm off. Here, lemme just..." Stew is swiftly piled up into his bowl, trying to get out of the bronzerider's way.

It's probably because Z'ian sees that it's Bones that he doesn't immediately react by stepping aggressively on his toes to that statement. Instead he just stands there and looks up at him, one eyebrow raised. Sort of confused, but not terribly alarmed. Then mostly just amused when recognition passes over the gardener's expression. The bronzerider begins to laugh, shaking his head. "Ah, no it's alright. I wouldn't want to get in the way and have you chew your arm off. They don't have replacements for those in the infirmary, you know." He grins at the larger man, shifting over when it comes time to fill his bowl full of succulent, hot, dead meat.

Bones immediately begins eating right there at the stew pot, scarfing his face with the stuff at a rate that sees some drip into his beard. Thankfully his freakishly long tongue snakes out to quickly lap away at the spilled food in the black bush surrounding his mouth. Good thing, otherwise things might be gross! "Yeah I know. Plenty of fake legs but no fake arms? Dumb. Hehe."

Since his company seems to be right there at the stew pot and not moving, Z'ian only moves so far that he can lean against the counter again. It's with something like outright fascination that he watches Bones' tongue clean food off of his face. Note to self: do not grow mountain man style beard. "Maybe they figure the fake legs are useful. You can walk around one of those peg legs. Fake arm though? What's it good for." He pauses to spoon some stew to his mouth, more neatly than his companion. "Maybe to hit people with."

Pointing his spoon right towards Z'ian as he finishes a mouthful of food, he seems to have an answer right at the ready. "Well that's easy. It's so your jackets and shirts fit. Plus, with a fake wooden hand, you can impress drunk people by playin' stabscotch and not fliching when you miss." With that bit of pragmatism, he goes back to eating with speed.

"Bullshit. Your jackets and shirts will still fit without the arm. You'd just have to pin the sleeve up or something. There was a one armed guy at the hold when I grew up, that's what he did." He mimes with his spoon hand how you'd have to pin the sleeve up to the shoulder, as if that needed explaining. "That's a good idea though. You know, if your jacket was bulky enough you could probably hide your real arm in your clothes. Then you could get a fake arm or a fake hand maybe, do it anyway. You'd bet people, make marks." Z'ian continues working on his stew. "We should do it."

There's a subtle nod to Bones' head as he considers Z'ian's words of jacket folding and mark making, his consumption having slowed a little as he gives the scenarios a good deal more serious thought than is probably healthy. It's not untill Z'ian actually suggests putting those plans into action that Bones' gives a laugh. Oh sure, now he recognizes it as a joke. "Hey, if you're into fast marks the easy way, that plan's a little on the complex side dontcha think? Why dontcha just steal shit?"

But was it a joke? Z'ian looks oddly serious, almost speculative. "Oh, sure. It's a little complex. With a lot of ways for it go wrong. That's what would make it entertaining." He stops with the spoon in his mouth and laughs at Bones' suggestion to steal things. "You see, the problem there is... I wouldn't have the slightest clue what to do with something once I stole it. I'd just end up with a bunch of stuff. I'd probably steal the wrong things. End up with a weyr full of candles or something."

There's a roll of Bones' eyes at Z'ian's talk of amateur theivery, and he actually goes so far as to set his half-empty bowl down on the counter. "Perishables. In bulk." Oh dear. "Anything that gets eaten, drank, or thrown out after it's used up. That way, the trail to you dies almost as soon as you sell it. Plus, you don't really gotta worry about your fence double crossin' you for a crate of klah bark the way he would for jewels, even though they're damn near close to worth the same!"

He ends up stopping with the spoon in his mouth a second time. Z'ian's eyebrows lift when the other man actually begins to explain the mechanics of it. "Klah bark and jewels are worth close to the same amount in marks?" He sounds relatively surprised by that as he keeps up with eating. Glancing around, he hauls himself onto the counter and sits there. No woman with her spoon right now! Legs swinging, "Now, I get how I would move things like that in bulk. How would you move it without getting your ass caught almost immediately?"

Is already picking his bowl back up, a smug smile on his face as he begins to eat once again. It's not every day he gets to be an educator, and he continues to elaborate around a small mouthful of stew. "It's about ease of circulation, right? Jewels are worth more but harder for your fence to move. She'll pay about the same for the klah just because it'll have less eyes on it." It's as his spoon finally starts scraping at the bottom of his bowl that the somewhat more logical parts of his brain fire up, and Z'ian's question is met with a raised eyebrow. "... how am I supposed to know how to move it?" There's a bit of a glare at the Bronzerider, as if Bones is suspicious of the question itself. "I mean what do I look like, some kinda hoodlum? Ha!" And then the light-hearted grin is back, with it a little shove to Z'ian's shoulder.

"Is there really a black market for klah?" Z'ian has to ask as he reaches the bottom of his bowl of stew. His eyes flicker to the hearth, possibly considering whether it's worth it to get off of the counter for more or not. "That makes reasonable sense otherwise. I guess the jewels would be easier to trace back to you too." Tonight is a chewing on your spoon night, because it's back in his mouth again by the time Bones' shove comes to his shoulder. The bronzerider laughs and begins to shake his head. "Look, man. You can steal all the carrots you want, as long as you're not stealing my carrots. But I get it if you don't want to talk about being a hoodlum. Or former hoodlum-ism as the case may be." At mention of looking like one, he shoots the big man a knowing look and easy smile. Sure. "You've got the face of an angel. No one would ever suspect."

It's now that the convict seems to be a bit more genuinely uneasy at the trend of conversation. "I ain't a thief." The smile is still there, but faded down now, just a hint of firmness to his tone compared to the light-hearted way he usually speaks. "I just knew some bad dudes back in the day, alright?" Even Bones had his soft spots. "Anyway, I still had some stuff I wanted to get done back at the greenhouse before I call it a night. Y'gonna be alright by yourself pumpkin? Need me to walk you to your weyr?" Playful grin sneaks out once more.

Z'ian's not totally oblivious to the shift in Bones. For that he looks apologetic and drops the spoon into his bowl, slipping off of the counter with a thud of his boots onto the ground. "Sorry. I'm an ass." It's a simple admission of guilt from the bronzerider. The woman with the spoon starts up again from across the room, but she's slow moving. "It's a dangerous walk out to the bowl, you should probably walk with me. I need the protection." He flashes him an easy grin and goes to drop off his utensils into one of the sinks. "Lets go."

Bones is quick to wrap an arm across Z'ian's shoulders when the bronzerider returns from dropping his bowl in the sink, a friendly sideways bro-hug with none of his strength held back. "Need the protection eh? You dragonriders. Always so sensitive, ha!" It's an openly playful jab at himself for his earlier moment of defensiveness, thinly veiled in machismo. "So that stew, was that wherry or...?" The beginning of idle chatter that'd last them untill they parted ways later in the night.