Difference between revisions of "Logs:So Close, and Yet..."

The Drummer's Rest is a tavern just outside the main Hold in Crom. It's not very big, but attracts a certain loyal clientele, namely those on both sides of the morality coin, who have a want for privacy and a penchant for bartering information of all variety. It's not particularly seedy, but it's also not shined up as the type of establishment that would cater to the Blooded or their ilk. It is, of course, G'laer's favorite watering hole and has been for turns upon turns. He's been performing his duties as expected of him, and there are probably few who would notice the change in his demeanor from quietly surly to quietly surlier. But it's there, and with alcohol in him, tonight he's visibly brooding over his beer mug at a very defensible table, with his back away from the door, his usual.

Jadzia would hardly be a very good stalk-- er, ex-guard if she didn't know to find a certain someone at their favorite bar. When she arrives, she doesn't even smell like a runner. Her hair is plaited back away from her face, as is often the case, and she looks more or less like herself. But she bathed and that's practically dressing up at this point in the day. The greenrider isn't going to miss her coming in and she doesn't miss him at his table. Just she heads to the bar to order herself her own drink before turning on an obvious path to G'laer's table.

Just because he's brooding doesn't mean he's not also paying attention. G'laer's eyes are on the blonde, predictably from the time she enters. They don't stay exclusively there of course; he might miss something else important. But when she's nearing, he tilts his chin up to acknowledge her. "Jadzia." Then he's lifting his beer to swallow more of it down.

"G'laer." If that's not an indication that Jadzia is being deliberate, nothing probably will be. It's still a weird name for her to put her mouth around. But she's trying and that's telling. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?" she's asking even as she moves around with the intention of sitting next to him rather than with her back to the door.

"No," but that's before she's moving to sit next to him. G'laer watches her, not moving from his spot mid-bench, stopping his tracking when it looks like she's sliding in. "Good day in the stables?" It's a polite sort of question for all his dour expression and dull tone.

"Could have been better. Be nice when spring is here. When the foals start dropping." Jadzia might dislike certain things about job. But baby runners are something she genuinely enjoys. She takes a drink before setting her mug down and shifting to wiggle out of her jacket. "I got something for you. And you look like you could use some cheering up. Who pissed in your porridge, anyway?"

"I did." Not that that's any of her business, and he's certainly not biting at the bit to tell her about it. He shifts on the bench now to get a little more distance between them so he can turn toward her. G'laer searches her face for a moment. "You got something for me. I'd assumed our last meeting was... the last." His eloquence assures this is not his first beer.

The admission doesn't seem to surprise Jadzia very much. It seems likely enough that that's something G'laer would do to himself. So, for now, she doesn't ask unnecessary questions. "Yeah, well, it's not." Clearly. "I figure you just need a reminder of what you're missing out on." Though a reminder might necessitate him having not missed out on it at some point. Either way, he's missing out. "What did you do with my picture?"

"It's probably still in one of the bags on Teisyth's straps." It's impossible to tell if this is a lie or not (it totally is) with G'laer's air of nonchalance. "I need a reminder of what I'm missing out on." That takes him a moment to process, and then, "I'm not sure I'm drunk enough for this," which she might remember is a quote - of her. "Are you still trying to get in my pants?" Not that he had pants the last time she broached the subject.

Jadzia might just be content that he didn't say he burned it or something. And she's probably pretty sure he wouldn't avoid telling her so if he had. "I'm not sure you're ever drunk enough to have fun," is her response. But she's searching through the jacket she'd taken off now and, soon enough, Jadzia presents the greenrider with a bit of rolled up paper tied with a piece of twine.

"I'm not sure having fun has ever been my aim when getting drunk." G'laer finishes his beer and raises the mug toward the bar to request a refill. Then his eyes fall to that bit of rolled up paper. "What is it?" Maybe it's boobey trapped.

"I'm not sure having fun has ever been your aim at all." It's dry, the way Jadzia says that. She picks up her mug, gesturing with her other hand. "Just open it." It's totally safe. Then she's taking a quick drink so she can watch him, curious and cautious at the same time. Maybe he should be worried.

He doesn't. He does at least take it from her now. G'laer looks at her, "If I'm so unfun, why did you want to get in my pants in the first place?" Interrogations are fun, right? This counts!

"Because," is all Jadzia says at first, pointed, before pausing. Mostly because she has to figure out how to articulate what she finds so appealing about G'laer, which is evidently harder than expected. "Because I know what you're capable of." Is that a good reason? Probably not. But it's definitely not his ability to be fun that keeps drawing Jadzia back.

"Uh-huh." G'laer continues to look at her; it's a stare really, but probably not the sort that she'd rather him give her. "You know what I'm capable of." He doesn't believe it. He does, however, lean closer to her, over the rolled paper, "Do you mean my ability to turn you down or my ability to snap a man's neck and not think twice about it? Or maybe it's one of my other wonderful qualities that you find so appealing?" Welcome to G'laer's Pity Party: guest count two!

When has he ever given Jadzia what she's wanted? Not counting the all too brief kisses she's managed before he's said just the right things to send her on her way. "Your ability to turn me down when you obviously want me is kind of frustrating, I'll give you that." Her gaze drops down to those capable, dangerous hands. She refrains from touching them for now. "Maybe it's just wanting what I can't have. If I can have it, maybe I'll stop wanting it." Her logic is flawless.

"Fine. Let's go then. If it will get you off my case." G'laer shifts closer to her as though to exit the booth, but then his beer refill is arriving, so instead of pursuing the attempt to get up and leave, he leans close to her as he reaches his free hand to take the beer and pulls it toward himself as he shifts back to his original position. The as yet still rolled paper is placed on the table in exchange for the mug which he lifts to his lips. So maybe he wasn't serious?

Jadzia might even look kind of hopeful there for a second. She'd probably hate herself if she could see it, too. But when the beer comes and he settles back in, the blonde shoves at him and stops the server to order herself a pair of shots. They're probably both for her. "Will you just open it? Or should I open it for you?"

The shove only matters if it spills the beer; which it doesn't, so G'laer is simply jostled if that makes her happy. He drinks and then poses this question thoughtfully: "If it's a present for me, shouldn't I get to choose what to do with it?" One hand picks up the paper while the mug is returned to the table. Then the rolled thing is tapped against the rim as though he might be thinking of submerging it.

"No. I got it for you and I'm telling you to open it. And don't even fucking think about that," says Jadzia when it looks like he's threatening to dunk it in his beer. She even reaches to swipe back for it. "There's plenty of guys in here that would love to have it if you don't want it." At least it can't be said that Jadzia lacks a certain amount of confidence in her desirability.

It's pulled out of the way of her predictable response and held out of reach on the other side. "I think that's pretty much what you said the last time we were in a bar, right before you asked who'd pay to fuck you." Or something along those lines. G'laer's tone is bland. He turns away from her lest she still be seeking to take the gift back and tugs the twine. "Suppose," he says then, "that I don't like this present, do I get something else instead?" He's probably prolonging opening it just to annoy her now.

It's too tempting to resist shoving at him again as he turns away from her. Stupid back. Jadzia shifts up onto a foot under her rear end so she can look over his shoulder, but she's not trying to grab for the paper again just now. "Depends on what you want. But you will like it. Even if you say you don't." The latter two of which she's rather certain will happen.

"Mmm." The sound is dubious. Finally, he starts unrolling the paper. He stops once her sketched face is showing with that bitten lip and 'come hither' stare. "Jadzia. What is this?" Nevermind that he could just keep unrolling. G'laer turns his head to look back at her, lips pursed very slightly in an expression that might maybe be distantly related to displeasure.

Yeah, yeah, something like displeasure. That's all Jadzia ever gets from G'laer and it's never really stopped her before. Her life would probably be a lot easier if she responded differently to those sorts of expressions. "It's what I should have given you the first time. And now I'm a full damned grown woman so you can't even bitch about me being 'too young.'"

"Damnit, Jadz." Those two words and the still subtle exasperation with which they're said should be enough to tell the woman she got to him. The greenrider sets the roll down on the table, not opening it further. G'laer shifts so he's able to twist toward her again. "You don't think I saw that in the bathes?" He's giving her a stern look now. "Would it make you feel better if I were gay? How about we say I am gay and have done with it all?" Only, she's known the proof that he's not.

Jadzia is mildly disappointed when he sets the roll down rather than continuing with the reveal. She's probably proud of it. "Of course you saw it, then." Not that she really wants to think about that. "But now you can see me when you're all alone, too." She's reaching for her beer when her shots come and those save G'laer from her saying anything else until the server is gone again. "I know you aren't gay, Gal. It'd make more sense if you were." Except for the times when he obviously hasn't been. "I don't know why you're so dead set against having anything to do with me."

G'laer's eyes close briefly. "I was your boss' boss, Jadzia." Of course, that was then. "What would you have of me now? Is it just a fuck you want? As you've said yourself, many a man would be glad of your company. Why me? If I fuck you, will you be satisfied?" He sounds a little annoyed and all of this is clearly necessitating that he finish his beer.

"You've never given me reason to think I could have more than a fuck." He's never really given her reason to think she could have that, either, granted. Except for the kisses that have suggested otherwise. "If I thought I could have more, I'd want more." But Jadzia has sort of learned to keep her expectations low in general. Life is more simple that way. "Maybe you're just scared one fuck won't be enough for you," she challenges as she reaches for one of her shots.

"I'm not, and have never been, the type to want just a fuck." G'laer snaps this in answer, likely providing the younger woman with more personal information than he ever planned to give her. Then he full-on scowls at his empty mug. "It feels like you just like tormenting me." Yep, that's right. Her tormenting him.

Jadzia throws back her shot in one smooth, well-practiced swallow before she's sliding the other one toward G'laer. She hadn't intended on sharing it, but he kind of looks like he could use it. And she's clearly just a nice person like that. "Funny, I thought that's what you liked doing to me. If I wanted to torment you, Gal, I'd rather do it with my mouth around your cock." Which is, admittedly, a somewhat different form of torment.

He takes the shot, but instead of putting it in his mouth, as he lifts it he brings it over top of his empty beer mug and dumps it there. Then he slides the mug far out of her reach. "Do you know why I won't just take you out back and fuck you against the nearest wall?" G'laer's jaw is set, lips pressed together when he's done speaking.

"Because you're some fucked up martyr that won't let himself enjoy anything?" So that would probably be a no. Especially since she's pretty sure he's no martyr. It's difficult to tell, though, if Jadzia is more interested in his actual answer or just the fact that it looks like he's wasting a perfectly good shot. "What're you doing? I could drink that if you don't want it."

"Because it might end up so much more than just a fuck. What if you ended up pregnant? What then?" G'laer's tone is demanding. He doesn't answer about the shot, but he's probably prepared to do something if she tries to reach for it or move to order another.

The mug he dumped the shot in is stared at rather than him, but soon enough Jadzia glances out toward the bar, perhaps thinking about ordering another. Her gaze returns to him after a moment, though. "It's never been a problem." That answer might say something about her thoughts on ever having children. "Anyway, there are worse men that could knock me up."

"Are there?" G'laer's tone is challenging. "My twelve turn olds hate me. Maybe you should talk to them before you decide that. I'd sooner encourage the longest trip between than someone having another of mine." There's even a little annoyed growl at the end before he's turning and, yes, reaching for the mug with the shot he probably had intended to eschew. After downing it, he glares at the far side of the booth. And then he picks up the paper he had an even stronger intention to eschew and unrolls it, staring at it impassively.

"And I'd sooner you take me on the longest trip between than have anyone's child." Jadzia watches him down the shot, possibly regretting giving it to him now. "That doesn't mean I'm going to cross my legs like some prude Lady for the rest of my life." She tries to watch his face as he looks at her gift, but she sighs after a moment of that impassiveness and waves a hand to get a server's attention.

"Fine." Now G'laer does shift toward her, his thigh and torso pressed against hers to urge her out of the booth. "Let's go then." He seems to mean it this time.

Fine. That's what Jadzia wants to hear, surely, but it makes her look at G'laer when he shifts toward her like she can't tell if he's screwing with her or not. She doesn't ask, though, just scoots out and grabs her jacket. Better risking him screwing with her than him being serious and changing his mind.

That he grabs her wrist after he shrugs into his riding jacket and tucks away the sketch, pulling her as he moves to the door with some sense of urgency has to be a good sign. Right? Perhaps better yet is the way G'laer yanks her into his arms once they've cleared the threshold to kiss her roughly.

It probably doesn't matter so much to Jadzia whether it's a good sign or not. She's probably not thinking about it that much at this point. She's thinking even less once she's pulled against him and meeting his roughness with her own fervency, arms up around his neck and her hands in his hair.

They might seem as two too-horny teenagers who've given the slip to whomever minds them for some time doing more kissing and touching than getting along on their way back toward the Hold or wherever they can find somewhere more private. Only all of that ends when a shadow that brings extra chill air rushing past them lands with a thump right in the road. Teisyth huffs her annoyance. G'laer may be able to shut her out of his head in a way that takes time to get back in, but he can't very well ignore her 21 foot long by 14 foot high bulk when it's right there. G'laer pulls away from the kiss, away from Jadzia and turns toward the dragon to swear at her. "Damnit Teisyth!"

"No," says Jadzia when G'laer pulls away. It's more than a little desperate and she's moving toward him as she says it, insistently reaching for his arm to draw his attention back on her, on what they were doing and what she's not done doing yet.

His arm is available for her to grab but it doesn't succeed in pulling his attention away from the dragon. She rumbles and pokes her large head down toward the two of them. "No!" He tells her. "He left us. He's not coming back so what does it matter anyway?" He's shouting at the green, but she appears to be stubbornly holding her ground. And Jadzia? Poor Jadzia is presently ignored.

Jadzia, figuring out at least some hint of what's going on, keeps a hand on G'laer's arm but looks at the dragon. "Please," is all she says to the green, but it's a pleading please. Then she's turning into the rider, lifting her free hand to touch his face, trying to get his eyes on her like maybe that will snap him back. "Gal. Please." That might be the nicest, most polite thing she's ever said to him.

G'laer looks back at Jadzia, but it's obvious in his too unguarded expression that he's defeated. There's deep sadness and regret, possibly as much for what this is doing to Jadzia as all the things that have come before with Oliwer. "I'm no good, Jadz. You deserve so much better." He's said something of the kind before and he means it no less now than he did then, maybe even more.

Emotions play across Jadzia's face. Emotions she doesn't like people seeing, least of all him. She steps back and there are involuntary tears in her eyes. But then, like a switch, the emotion is gone. "You're right. You're no good. You don't deserve me. You don't deserve whoever he is. And you don't fucking well deserve her," she yells, the last accompanied by a gesture at the dragon that fucked everything up. Which makes it easier to get some nice momentum when the hand rounds back in a fist aimed at his jaw. "Fuck you, Gallagher!"

"Jadzi-" He's starting just as that fists connects. This is not an untrained fist. G'laer probably (maybe?) could have stopped it, or at least deflected it some, but he's distracted and maybe he feels like he deserves this in the very least, so he doesn't even raise hands to defend or counter attack. The force of the blow has him stepping back. Then he's stepping after her, looking to get ahold of her wrist. "Jadzia, please." He might not know where to go from there. Teisyth watches intently but doesn't interfere more than she already has.

Him trying to get a hold on her wrist has her trying to throw off his hand. "Don't! Don't fucking touch me," Jadzia practically screams at him, trying to step back, to turn and go away.

His grip is firm, but not painful, or at least not intentionally so. "Please, Jadzia," G'laer genuinely probably doesn't know what to say next, what might make all of this better somehow or at least less sucky, but it probably isn't what blurts out of him the next moment: "I loved you." It's a good thing G'laer isn't normally a blurter or who knows what manner of thing might come out of his mouth at unseemly moments.

She's distracted at first by the hand still holding onto her. Jadzia just wants to go. Anywhere that isn't here with him. She's not picky. But those words make her forget all about his grip and she looks up at him. Her expression is not a touched one. It shifts from perplexed for a few seconds to something more like painful outrage in the next. "No," she tells him. "No. You don't get to say that! You don't get to say anything. I hate you!" That might even sound pretty hateful except that she's sobbing as she says it.

Well, isn't G'laer just everyone's favorite person lately. "Fine." He lets go. Lets go and is moving toward the green ... who moves her nose to block him from mounting. Helpful Teisyth!

When he lets go, Jadzia doesn't wait around. She's leaving. Except she doesn't leave, exactly. She turns to go back inside, pulling her jacket tight around herself. She'll find herself a nice seat at the bar and she might just stay there forever.

G'laer is probably cold by the time he follows her in. He walks up behind her and stops. "I'm sorry, Jadzia." He waits.

Jadzia's only response isn't much a response at all. She downs the second of three shots she's already gotten from the bartender and pointedly ignores the greenrider's existence.

The greenrider would probably love nothing more than to leave this moment. But he sighs instead and reaches to lay a hand on her shoulder, knowing this is a terrible idea.

"Faranth help me, I will break your fucking arm," is how she reacts to him touching her. It's a mostly empty threat, of course. Jadzia knows as well as anyone that she's not exactly on par with G'laer. But the sentiment is what's important, not her actual intention of trying to follow through. Even if she'd probably really willing to try following through right now.

His hand pulls away and there's an audible sigh. G'laer doesn't linger then; his ride must have relented. He turns and heads toward the door and the dragon beyond.

Jadzia doesn't turn her head to watch him go until she can hear him walking away far enough that it's unlikely he'll turn back. And, even then, she only watches for a moment. Then her third shot goes down and she's gesturing for another round. Drink, cry, repeat.