Difference between revisions of "Logs:Set 'em up, Knock 'em down"

Even though it's mid-afternoon, T'zur is slumped in one of the booths in the kitchen, one elbow resting on the table, eyes definitely closed. He looks exhausted, and no wonder -- rumor has it Taikrin put him through his paces the previous evening (culminating in some dragging around to this or that bar or game or both while grilling him the whole time.) There's a half consumed mug of klah and a largely untouched bowl of stew in front of him, going cold. Tziveth, meanwhile -- no stranger to the cold nor the snowfall of the day -- is exploring the skies of his home in lazy, long circles high above.

Oh the rumor mill - J'nason has PLUGGED HIMSELF IN. It's awesome. Plus they stuck T'zur in his same wing and J'nason went through some of the same things when he got here. (Though he held up fairly well due to a nice tolerance for alcohol.) Thus he'll follow the NEXT rumor chain to where T'zur is sitting and slides himself into the chair across from his fellow not-from-here bronzerider. "Well. Met our wingleader, huh?" His smile is WAY TOO BIG.

T'zur jerks awake, eyes unfocused for a moment before he squints at J'nason. "Uh. Jay?" kind of blearily, shaking his head and wincing in regret a moment later. He makes a pained noise, though -- perhaps mercifully -- doesn't immediately throw up this time, considering where the other bronzerider chose to sit. "Ugh. Yeah. She's a," he struggles to come up with the correct descriptor: "Bit of a ball breaker. Got to respect that, though," he admits, slumping into his seat and tugging a hand through his hair. "Did she, uh, ask you some, mmm, weird questions, too?"

"I prefer to sleep with the ball breakers." Jason leans back in his chair, grinning at the other man without a single ounce of pity for T'zur's delicate space. "And yup. An interesting experience." He leans his chair against a cabinet behind him. "So. Why the transfer dude?"

"Somehow," T'zur remarks with crooked grin, "I don't think you're getting into Taikrin's pants." He stifles a yawn, shifting briefly. "I hear she's shacked up with one of those exiles?" there's a lilt like he's not quite sure, since undoubtedly he's heard it from a relative stranger. At the latter question he grimaces. "I mean, it was a long time coming. There's a reason I was asking you about Ista that other time, and why I came to visit you there," he trails off, briefly. "And then I heard you were," he waves his hand, presumably indicating here. "Poof. Why'd you transfer?"

"T'zur," J'nason sounds SUPER SERIOUS about this, "There is no such thing as a woman I wouldn't want to sleep with. Sometimes... it just takes time." Alluding to the idea that Jason would totally wait to get into the Wingleader's pants. IT COULD HAPPEN OKAY. "Well, the public story is that I just wanted a change." J'nason does a half shrug, T'zur can have some of the real answer though, "Full answer- guess someone complained about our little fight during the flight."

It's mid-afternoon, and T'zur and J'nason are settled in one of the kitchen nooks, an untouched bowl of stew sitting in front of the former Bendenite. Who, incidentally, looks like he had a bad night. Or a good one, depending on how you view hangovers. T'zur's groaning, and not just because he's hungover, either: "Jay, that's just... fine. Five marks, you can't get into her pants before the end of the Turn," he holds out his palm for the former Istan to shake on it, he's that sure. It's the latter that makes him tip his head, and make a funny noise. "Huh. Really? We didn't... I mean, the..." he leans closer, muttering, "The twins aren't like... pregnant or anything, are they?"

Someone was relatively mellow, sitting out at Glacier's table in the living cavern, ingesting her dinner, while her wingmates discussed and joked about the usual...especially the new faces acquired. And then, by dint of someone else's bad luck, some quick movement, and a need for another bubbly pie before they all disappeared, Alida's suddently *wearing* the hot filling of one of the things, and cussing like a master Miner. Give her a few moments to scrape off the blistering filling with burned fingers and scowl her anger at the stupid teen who got in her way, and the blonde is stamping towards the Kithens to try and acquire both a soapy rag and one more bubbly pie. And some cold water to soothe her fingers. Owie. As the bluerider enters, the leftovers of her frustration, hunger, and pain (oh, and that anger, of course) light her face. At this point, she could care less about other riders in here. Owie-owie-grrrr.

Alysce looks damned near pristine, then. The harper apprentice wears no sign of her rank; she doesn't even sport the usual harper blues anywhere on her person, instead wrapped into an oversized, cream-colored sweater that slips slightly off one shoulder and dark pants. Of course, this sweater also sports a similar stain to Alida's. She is stalking after the bluerider, telling her, "If this doesn't come out, you owe me a new sweater." She doesn't remain ignorant of the other riders, her dark gaze sweeping over them, but it is only followed by her turning away to hold her hand out to Alida and the soapy rag. "Who even eats these anymore? Like, seriously."

J'nason should never EVER take up gambling, because he just can't seem to not take a bet when it's offered to him. Especially one that involves him maybe-or-maybe not getting laid and thus getting better treatment in a wing. DOUBLE WORK TIME as he takes T'zur's hand to seal the bargin. But he can't help screwing with him, so with his own stage whisper he'll begin, "Well, Sheena didn't want to tell..." And then he's just going to whistle as Alida - we're gonna say he's learned her name sometime in the last seven and skip that part pretty please okay? Feel free to hate him already or whatever~ - comes in with pie alll over her, and then gets followed by another woman. "The color isn't bad on you-" J'nason helpfully calls out.

T'zur's momentary expression of victory and sealing what -- to him -- is an easy five marks -- quickly alters at J'nason's murmur. His eyes widen, and he huffs a breath, and then he snorts and mutters fervently, "Dick," slouching back into his seat. The motion that captures his wingmate's attention also turns his gaze, half twisting to eye the incoming pair with a stifled grin. "Did we miss a food fight? Ugh. Probably for the best. Don't think my stomach could handle the excitement." There's not really any sympathy in the bronzerider's gaze, instead blandly kind of assessing the girls with a grin aftwards.

Alida looks rather 'irked' that the teen is daring to follow her - given the reputation that the 'white wher' holds in the Weyr - the bluie finally whirling about on Alysce and glaring at her with heated, clear green eyes while lipping off a low, "Yer lucky I'm not jamming the rest up yer..." Temper, temper, woman. Leaving off the rest of *that* particular chain of voiced thought, the unknotted, palest-blonde clips off in aside to the Harper, "Y'll owe me the same then." Cue a sudden, evil little smirk-smile. "My sweater's worth three uv' yers." Truth: it's one of those 'Reachian cable knit affairs with particular patterns and a mix of sea-colors. A pretty penny, it cost. The rest of the teen's words are ignored in favor of hurrying to a Kitchen worker who finally helps 'lida with cold water, soap, a towel, and a hand with trying to work out that blackberry stain from her precious sweater. Whoever whistled gets a small jerk of a glare towards him - J'nason recognized quickly - his reponse evincing a flipping of the bird his direction. T'zur's noted in the interim; there's nothing of 'girl' about Alida, the ex-guard and Taikrin sort-of wannabe all business...and pain, right now. At the moment, her fingers are wrapped in a towel saturated with cold water, and the Kitchen woman is deftly scrubbing out what she can of berry stains. Of food fights, the blonde notes coolly, "Open yer mouth, and I'll shove the rest uv' this bubbly down it, sweety." Maybe with her fist included?

Alysce rolls her eyes in disbelief of Alida, and instead of coming back with any smart retort, she does the opposite: she ignores the woman. Instead, she offers dryly to the other dragonriders, "Well, it seems someone can't make up her mind about where to jam a bubbly pie. And neither of you can think of anything more clever." J'nason, in specific, gets a quirked brow and a smirkey smile. "It doesn't look bad on me? Really? That's the best you can do?" Her gaze slides briefly to Alida, and then to the boys, as she rolls her eyes again. "Dragonriders."

A snort of laughter for T'zur, "Only for you man." J'nason winks at T'zur - he's going to tease that man to DEATH AND BACK AGAIN. One arm hooks over the back of his chair so he can turn and face the woman completely. He's got a VIBE that neither of them are sleeping with him tonight. But that's okay. He's got his boy across the table (even if said boy might have to be poured into bed later). "Now Alida, is that any way to greet our newest wingpal?" Jason's just gonna coin that as a real word. His free arm stretches out towards T'zur, "T'zur, once of Benden, now in out happy little family- and sweetheart," his blue eyes turning to wink at the apprentice, "He was just mentioning how much he was looking forward to making some new acquaintances around here. Is that a way to start off a friendship?"

"And here Jocelyn said everyone at High Reaches was welcoming." Well, that's not precisely what she said, or in fact anywhere near what she said, but then T'zur couldn't feel all aggrieved otherwise. His gaze flickers from the grumpy bluerider to Alysce, making a face. "We aren't all bad. I may, Jay," a thumb is jerked towards his fellow bronzerider, "Is pretty bad, admittedly, but you shouldn't judge the rest of us based on him," is said wryly. It's J'nason's words that draw his gaze back towards Alida with a grimace, "She's in Glacier too?" might almost be a groan, tightly heeled. Of course, the groan is probably for J'nason's words, and it's not just because he's still hung over that his head drops into his hands.

At least Alida sort-of shut up Alysce in regards to herself, so the Harper gets no more invective spewed at her, the roving-eyed J'nason instead focused on with pinpoint accuracy and shot at with an alto verbal arrow of, "Dipshit. You oughtta know Glacier well-enough by now ta ferget the bullshit." Indeed, that particular Wing is most definitely *not* full of delicately-spoken people. If they're anything else besides rought, loud, hard, and tough, then it;s likely quiet and watchful. Which begs the question of just WHY J'nason *is* in Glacier in the first place. As for T'zur, there's a slight bob of braided head, a quick assessment by pain-touched eyes, and a grunt of, "Heard abou'cha." ALready? News travels fast. As her fingers cool their aching, there's some very quiet words exchanged with the middle-aged woman who helps her, as well as a pair of nods, and a sigh. Noted fatalistically over her shoulder to anyone who might hear: "Nineteen outta' twenty bronzers're nothing but bad news." A quick, evil grin again is for T'zur's moan about 'lida being a Glacier-ite. Welcome to the crew.

"No, but it may be a good way to end one," Alysce counters back to J'nason's question, flashing a brightly, sharply edged smile back at him. Yet still, the harper doesn't move to leave; instead, she hops up on the counter there, leaning back onto the palms of hands as she watches the play between wingmates for the moment. To T'zur, she questions, "So, which one of you is Jay?" As if he didn't just point him out, as if they might be indistinguisable from each other.

J'nason knows exactly what he is doing when he reaches out to punch the other bronzerider's shoulder - hard, of course. Jason's gonna get him into shape SOON. Before Glacier can take and RUIN HIM. "Look at it like a challenge, aye?" Then back to the woman. He meets Alida's grumpyness with a smile that could totally break non-ice-woman (see, a Glacier pun!) hearts. "You'll make T'zur feel bad with words like that, as obviously," a wink for T'zur at his teasing, "I'm the one. Also, J'nason - Jason, Jay - whichever you choose. But I'm afraid I don't know your name?"

It's a welcome of sorts, and T'zur takes it, with a wry grin at Alida: "If I ralphed all over your shoes last night, well... I don't remember it, but I'm probably sorry." If he's nonplussed by her knowing all about him, it doesn't seem to show; maybe it has something to do with the hangover. Oddly, however, he seems pleased with his new wingmates assessment about bronzeriders. That lasts about as long as it takes for J'nason to punch him -- again. "Ffffffffaaaaaark, man." T'zur might be moderating his language for the sake of that apprentice staring at them, or maybe not. He hunches back onto his side, muttering, "Jay's the dick one," vaguely in Alysce's direction.

Alida sure looks like ice, but there's nothing but fire left over behind those usually inscrutable, green eyes as he keeps on talking at her, introducing himself. Well, at least she's in lesser amounts of pain by now, and her sweater is mostly clear of stains, so she feels just enough equitability to retort, "If he's Glacier, he'll learn ta live...'r transfer out." See? She's almost chummy! Of J'nason, "Saw ya in drills." Glacier's big on drills when it's not slacking off or fighting something...like hangovers. Wait, whut? Pucked on *her* shoes? Blink. Oh. "Enjoy yer first 'Reachian goldflight, I take it?" Smirk. "No way *my* shoes." She avoids bronzers like the plague...their beds, anyway. And though the comment might've been meant for Alysce, Alida runs with it, barks out a hard snort of laughter at 'dick one,' which should make T'zur's head ache just a wee bit more. And then finally, finally, there's closure on the bubbly pie stain incident, and soon enough, Alida's accepting the gift of another of the things from the same Kithen lady with a soft thank you, then turning away to make her way out of the Kitchen. The worker calls in motherly fashion, "Go get that one burn numbweeded, or else." A quick grin between the two women and a meek-like "Yess'um" from Alida sees her heading back outside...towards one of the tunnels leading towards the Healers' area. The others talking at/with/to her? All they get is a scrape over of eyes, a thin smirk, and a nod before she slips away.

"Alysce," she answers easily enough, before continuing to clarify in some mimic of Jason, "Not Aly, or Lys, or any other name you can think of. Just Alysce." She doesn't seem to care too much about Alida's burns, selfishly only relieved that the other woman has stepped away from the available kitchen worker and her soap and rag as she slides off the counter and back to her feet. Except that she then drags her own sweater off, pulling the finally harper blue tank underneath halfway up her stomach. The sweater is handed off rather than doing the cleaning herself as she mumbles a thanks to the kitchen worker, before turning back to the boys. "What about the flight? Actually, don't tell me; I don't care."

"Hey, it's one of my greatest assets." J'nason lifts both hands up in a shrug of what-can-you-do-when-you-are-this-awesome, in response to T'zur's dick jab. Fingers come up to wiggle at Alida's back side, and as an aside to T'zur, "I think she likes me." He actually manages to say that with a STRAIGHT FACE. Hello Alida, J'nason has decided to be your new BFF. >:) Then to Alysce, "Well, that's good, as it would be rather confusing if you were Lys, seeing as there's already one here-" He holds up a finger to turn to T'zur, "Remind me to introduce her to you."

T'zur really doesn't look like he's taking in either Alysce's careful recitation of her name, nor Alida's headed warnings about the wing. He doesn't straighten from hunched posture, though he makes a face now and then, mostly at J'nason. "The flight was fun." Even if he lost. And got punched. J'nason is eyed somewhat bemusedly: "Another five marks for her," a thumb vaguely directed towards the already departed bluerider. Perhaps he's not as serious about this offer, since he doesn't offer his palm, just snorts, and then grimaces.

Alysce marks T'zur's opinion on the flight only by offering her own sharp noise of disagreement. No, you're wrong. Instead of offering further comment, however, she replies to J'nason, "Yes, I know. Some greenrider who Impressed from their last clutch." She rolls a shoulder up in a shrug, dismissive, as she leans back against the counter again to wait.

"You're only saying that about the flight because I was able to hook you up after." J'nason has a HUGEly inflated opinion of his awesomness. But that's okay, because he's totally friendly about it, stretching out his legs in front of him like he doesn't have a care in the world. (That will change if Glacier's WiL has anything to say about it probably.) "One gamble at a time, but look," A hand reaches out, plam out to show Alysce. "I think she's gotten the wrong idea about you." His attention turns towards the girl, "T'zur's not your typical bronzer." Implying J'nason really is, "He doesn't look much older than you, and he's new. Could do with a friend his age." And if Alysce chooses to sleep with him somewhere in the future THAT IS FINE TOO.

That gets movement from T'zur; a jerk of surprise. "You hooked me up? I remember it distinctly being the other way around." In that distinct way in which he was totally drunk but is sure it would never have played out the way his fellow bronzerider describes it. The former Bendenite looks particularly unimpressed with the description of himself as not a typical bronzerider, scowling briefly, though it fades as he eyes Alysce speculatively, in that way that might make it seem he's assessing her merits as more than friends. "I mean, yeah, I could use a friend," he admits. "This one is a dick," a thumb wags in J'nason's direction. He's taking full advantage of the cards he's been dealt, here.

"Calm down, you two. I am pretty sure neither of you did any hard work in getting hooked up during a flight," Alysce points out dryly to both of them, even making the move to flick her hair over one shoulder to accentuate the point. She meets T'zur's assessment with unimpressed dark eyes, her brow still curved upwards. But it's J'nason that she asks, "So, if he's not a typical bronzerider, what does that make you? Besides a dick."

"Me? I'm just a friendly guy in a new place, looking to make friends." Sincerity oozes from J'nason as he grins at the twenty something. It's really annoying, usually, to be around someone so completely comfortable in their own skin.

Maybe, just maybe, the Bendenite tries to straighten a little and expand his chest a little more while he's being examined, before he sinks back into his seat when the harper's attention turns elsewhere. T'zur lets out a guffaw, clearly approving of Alysce's response, glancing at J'nason briefly, before he vainly attempts to drink some of the (now cold) klah.

"Just a friendly guy looking to make friends," is repeated flatly, soft amusement playing at the edge in her own words as Alysce sweeps her gaze over J'nason. "I haven't heard that once or twice or a million times. You know, you really should pick better lines to use on a harper. Or do you usually let your big, shiny dragon do all the talking for you?" The sweater, however, seems to be cleaned as much as it can be, and when the apprentice takes it back from the kitchen worker, she moves to join them at their table rather than retreating. She takes the seat by T'zur, across from J'nason, but adds with a side-glance to the former, "Why are you looking for friends?"

"Hephaisth?" Excuse J'nason for a moment, he's just going to choke and start //laughing//, he won't be good for much as he lifts up a finger to point at her like she just made the most funny joke in the whole world. Coughing his way to an end J'nason lets out a few more guffs and shakes his head. "You're a funny one. T'zur's got a sense of humor too, T'zur, tell her the one about the runner."

The grimace T'zur gives is probably for the cold klah, and not for Alysce's question, which gets a response after a beat: "Thought it'd be obvious. I moved here a day ago, and the only person I do know is a dick, as you've discovered," he flickers a glance to J'nason that might be apologetic, but... he's in! Maybe. Except... J'nason's put him on the spot with a runner joke, and his hangover isn't helping. "Um. What did the runner say when it fell?" He waits a beat for dramatic effect rather than any expectation of an answer, because he adds quickly: "I've fallen and I can't giddyup!" Okay, it's lame, but he tried.

T'zur might not be so in, because Alysce's dark gaze keeps sliding to J'nason, but perhaps that's just to check to make sure he doesn't choke on his laughter and die on them. "I'll tell you a secret: you don't want any friends here, anyways. They are pretty much all jackasses," she tells him lightly, shrugging a shoulder upwards briefly but offering a more friendly smile than the ones before. That joke gets a quirked brow, and the twenty year old really tries to maintain her don't-give-a-shit persona, but after a brief second a giggle/snort escapes. She tells him, "That was terrible. You should be ashamed."

See J'nason? This is him totally reaching out to steal T'zur's tea. He knows when to let his home-boy take it HOME. GO T'ZUR JASON BELIEVES IN YOU.

Maybe T'zur will be upset about the tea. Later. He's distracted by the fact that Alysce actually snorted as his joke. "It was terrible," he admits. "How about the one where the runner walks up to the bar and orders a drink. The bartender sets a glass in front of him, and says, 'It's okay, friend. You can talk to me. Why the long face?'"

Can you steal stolen tea? Because Alysce leans across the table to steal the tea back from J'nason, tsking as she tells the Istan transfer, "It looks like he could use it more, and it's probably your fault, isn't it?" She pins a Look on him, a challenging brow curved upwards. It's only T'zur's joke that pulls her attention away, and this time she might have been prepared for the terrible joke, since she only wrinkles her nose. She asks, "What is a pirate's favorite letter?" Pause. "A pirate's true love is the c."

J'nason claps his hands together because he is pretty sure that her innocent taking of his cup to give back to T'zur (at least, that's what he's PRETTY SURE she is doing) is a GOOD SIGN. Pushing himself up from the table Jason turns at an angel where Alysce can't see his wink to T'zur. "Well, long night, and tomorrow will be another day of someone trying to convince me that everyone in Glacier really is made of ice." And with that SUPER SMOOTH annoucement J'nason is going to leave the two ALONE. BWHAHAHA!

T'zur eyes the returned tea with somewhat of a surprise, and groans at Alysce's pirate joke. He holds up his hands, "I'm out. I can only ride the runner jokes so far before they collapse." When J'nason stands, his wingmate eyes him sidelong, and grins in mute thanks. "Hey, night man. Glad to see you here." There's a bit of that awkward silence transition as he glances back at the harper afterward. "So, uh. Harper, was it?"

Alysce might miss that wink, but it's not from lack of watching. Her dark gaze lifts after J'nason as he rises, only lingering in a moment's study, but then she turns back to T'zur with a flick of dark hair over her shoulder. "Yep," she answers easily. "But I've been here at High Reaches for almost three turns. Just so you know. I'm not some impressionable girl that's going to go crazy over a man who rides a dragon."

"Wasn't thinking that," T'zur is quick to deny, whether it's truth or not. He takes his tea back with a grateful smile, exhaling after the liquid's settled. "So, what do you do for fun? I've been here all of a day or so -- I mean, there's plenty to do, things to unpack and furniture to procure and things to hang -- but I figure all that can wait until I'm, uh, maybe less hungover," it's admitted without a trace of shame.

"Mostly, I get away from here," Alysce answers with a glance around them before settling her attention back onto T'zur. "Gathers, Southern, beaches. But Snowasis isn't bad and there's some nice spots to read and write." She finally shakes out her sweater, before drawing it back over her head and yanking it down with a flashed smile towards the bronzerider. "I'm sure your dick of a friend can help you with all that. I'm also not the kind of girl that helps people move or clean or hang anything, just in case you were thinking of asking."

"Huh. Plenty of rider friends to take you then? I guess there goes," T'zur flickers his fingers, "My hope of using that to lure your friendship," ruefully. He's watching her, unapologetically, as she pulls her sweater back on. As for the latter: "Wouldn't dream of it. Though I might ask for decorating tips when I've more of a mind," he tests the waters on that, head tilted.

Alysce really doesn't seem to mind the looking, shrugging her shoulder upwards at the question. "Some. And others that are willing to take a mark or two to go somewhere they were already going with a passenger." The latter suggestion gets the expected lift of an eyebrow and the flicker of amusement. "What, so you can get me up to your weyr?"

"A mark or two?" T'zur sounds surprised by that, whistling, then wincing as he clearly regrets it. "That's a fair rort there. You know," he taps fingers against the table, thoughtfully. "If residents here are paying that, we could work together to undercut them. Steal the business, you know? You hook them in, spread the word -- I'll find riders to help out." Once a trader, always a trader. He doesn't look embarrassed by her latter question, just grinning instead, "Well, yeah."

"I would say that I'm not that type of girl, but I am," Alysce answers blandly to his grinning agreement, her fingers mussing through black hair as she sweeps a look over T'zur and then glances towards the exit of the kitchens. "But, you're not really my type. Actually, your dick of a friend is probably more my usual type. Sorry." Probably not all that sorry, though, since she only offers a half-smile to T'zur with the apology. "Mm. Will you be the one to start breaking kneecaps of riders to keep them from offering free rides to friends so our business grows, though?"

T'zur's grin widens at her first words, for all of three seconds before she stomps all over his ego and thoroughly trashes it in the process. "Oh. Right. Yes." Of course she likes Jay. He looks disappointed in that way that suggests it's probably not the first time he's been shot down in favor of that other bronzerider. "Uh, what? Um. Maybe. Look, I have to uh... go." As she's blocking his way, he gestures his intent to leave.

Alysce's smile falters, but she nods. She slides to her feet, arching her back and stretching in an exaggerated gesture that she has probably practiced. "I'll see you around, T'zur. If you're still looking for friends," she teases, lightly.

T'zur is a bad guest. Or, inhabitant, now -- he doesn't even put away his dishes in his haste to leave the now awkward situation. He does however look at Alysce as she stretches -- he can't help it -- and hastily departs with a mutter that might be a positive, but could just as easily be non committal response to the tease to allow him to leave with marginal dignity.