Logs:Thirty Percent
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| RL Date: 29 April, 2009 |
| Who: Milani, N'thei |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond. Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off. An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl. The sun is high in the sky and there is not a cloud in sight. There's a breeze that tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. It's as good a place to have a nap as any. Not that N'thei's flat-out asleep, just drowsing and watching the air-traffic with all the attitude of a person with /nothing/ better to do, and no complaints about it. Wyaeth's up on the star stones again, ostensibly sunning himself but mostly just making his presence known, and the rest of the Weyr has enough actual industry-- what with the leadership being practically in its infancy-- that they're happy to go on about their business and ignore the both of them. Jacket stuffed behind his neck as a pillow, feet up on a chair, sun shining down in a way at cheerful odds with the man on whom it shines, fingers laced across his belly, he looks about as peaceful as he ever has. And interrupting that peace, ominous maybe even, is a shadow. The headwoman's shadow, falling across the former Weyrleader as Milani comes out of the Snowasis with a pitcher in one hand and two glasses in the other. Apparently she spotted him earlier and he is actually her destination. The sound of glass setting down atop the table echoes and then a thunk apiece for those glasses. Next, the grate of another chair as Milani invites herself to the table and then the glug of pouring. Lemonade, should he look down to check. With the glasses poured, Milani leans back in her chair in a manner not that different from his and eyes Wyaeth speculatively. "Is he still keeping us all safe and sound?" she asks, arms settling lightly atop the chair's rests. Other than looking a little pale, a little tired, Milani seems her usual self, though the way she asks that question is not as playful or bubbly-chipper as it would have been in days of yore. "Under wraps," rather than safe-and-sound. N'thei doesn't need to see Milani to know how it is, which is good since the idea of moving is too much for him right now, and he goes only as far as following her approach with his eyes. Besides, he's working on his tan, here. In tunic and trousers. "Heard a story about you." /Voluntarily/ engaging conversation should be counted as leaps-and-bounds improvement for him, yes. "Mm, close enough," Milani says, head settling back against the chair's rest and she closes her eyes. "It's good he's keeping his eyes open," the headwoman says, voice caugh somewhere between amused and a neutral. "I think I know which one," she answers, voice quiet. "But, tell me anyway, so I'm sure I have the right one." Eyes open. Ego expanded. A glimmer of leathery wings and a challenging rumble that gets cut short-- ohwait, that brown actually /does/ live here, doesn't he?-- settles Wyaeth back down to his so-called sunning. "You've got the right one," answers N'thei without repeating the whole sordid affair right out here on the ledge. "Fucked up, Millie." He puts that out there calmly, not like he's about to jump up and choke her, but he's got an eye on her in lazy disappointment. Milani's eyes are still closed, so she misses Wyaeth's display, even the slant of N'thei's eyes her way. "Yes," she answers simply and takes a deep breath, then opens her eyes, looks right at him. "And over. All of it." She pauses for a moment, considering him. "And I have a promise to keep about not putting you in the middle." She leans forward then to take up her own glass, leans back with it and has a sip. "Fuck him." The only person that would exact such a promise, so it's not like N'thei can miss his guess. "Would have punched him in the head anyway." Just not all three times, one can hope. In the mix of that disappointment (though why he should be disappointed in Milani when he was the first person to proclaim her whoredom is still confusing), he twitches his eyebrows in a short, questioning way: It's over, she's all right then? There's a little quirk of the corners of her mouth for that. "Not right now, thanks," she says over the rim of her glass and has another sip from it. Her eyes meet his though, straight on, steady. She hasn't been all right, it's clear enough. There's sadness there. Regret. But yes, she will be. "I made a mistake. It's come with a very high price. But I hope in the end, he'll be happy. That things will work out for him. Whatever comes next." Her glass is balanced between two hands as she speaks and towards the end of what she says, she looks out across the bowl, taking in the traffic like he just was only the ground traffic, not the air-borne. There's not enough anima in him to voice the ha-ha that N'thei mouths to her first. The longer she goes on to answer, though, the more he bothers sitting up, sliding along the back of the chair till the jacket's wedged down behind his shoulders, no longer of any use as a pillow. "Didn't ask if he'd be happy, if things would work out for him, did I." He'll just wait till she's looking back thisaway to actually follow up. Back over to him and Milani's eyes take in the slipped-down jacket, starts to reach over to fish it out, glass put down on the table again. She never can /not/ fuss, can she? "I'll be all right, eventually," Millie answers that, quietly, though there's a slight pang thaat shows up on her face and she leans back in the chair again. N'thei shrugs and lets her fish out the jacket. Look how much they trust each other now, she'll go within punching distance and he won't punch her for it, awww. "Fair enough," he agrees to her 'eventually,' not about to pester someone over being heartsick. "For what it's worth," and what is it ever worth when it's all his opinion? "Think he's got some brass to judge you like that. He can't say he didn't know you were a whore, not sure why it matters all of the sudden." The sad thing is, he thinks that's a really nice thing to say. Not like his usual, hateful tones. Milani settles the jacket back upward across the back of N'thei's chair before she leans back. His remark sees her hands resting across her middle like his were not that long ago, fingers lacing loosely. "It's always mattered to him," she says, eyes to the sky. "Though I guess you could argue that one flight fuck doesn't make for a new vow to be faithful." Her fingers tighten a little around each other and she exhales again slowly. "For what it's worth, I honestly thought he was jerking me around again and he wouldn't care if I gave the Weyrleader a little pick-me-up after a turnday like that one." Millie's shoulders lift a little and she turns her head, without lifting it from the back of the chair. "Done is done, though. Can't take it back." Something in that makes N'thei frown, makes his brows knit, and he explains a moment later, saying, "Jerking you around?" Maybe it just doesn't jive with his view of his best bud there? Regardless of what he /knows/ about these two? "He's never been able to make up his mind," Milani replies after a long moment of silence. "And then he finally does and I don't see it for what it is, because it's been back and forth, back and forth for turns," the headwoman continues. "In a way I guess, it's better this way. It's clear, you know. Just ... done. Over. No more wondering." N'thei takes a breath, on the verge of saying something, but it dies as no more than a brief wash behind expressionless eyes. Not his business. "Well. That's all the more I can talk about relationships, Millie. Want we talk business?" /What/ business? The business of drowsing in the sun all day? The business of her running the Weyr while everyone else just putzes around in adolescent uselessness? Milani tilts a look over at N'thei, reaches over after a moment, her hand seeking out his, to just rest there for a moment. Nothing said. "That's okay. Better to drop it," she agrees with a wry turn to her smile. "Got something for me, business-wise?" she asks, brows lifting, a hint of surprise in her eyes as she scans his face. He's been drowsing a lot lately. Is that actually business? N'thei can hold hands. It doesn't come naturally to him or anything, but he is at least familiar with the concept. He's not familiar with the concept of hand lotion, as is now abundantly clear, but he doesn't snap her fingers or anything. Again, this counts as a win. Something like a chuckle and he answers, "Not unless you want to wear something low-cut and ply already bad poker players with drinks till they get worse." He puts it out there, though there's not much hope she'll latch on to the idea. "Give you a third what I take." "Going to take up professional poker then?" Milani musters the teasing, just a little and she gives her tank top a little tug, adjusts her posture to be you know, all winning and whatnot. "Think I've got enough of a rack for it now?" Her hand remains curled around his, touch light. He might have hoary man-hands, hers are predictably soft, though with her height and build, they're not small, delicate things. "A third ... hmm, to put into the investments, that could work," she says slowly. "Might have to dicker about that percentage though." N'thei doesn't answer her first, because-- well, he can just give her a look that perfectly conveys how stupid he thinks that question is. Fortunately, the look wanders off before she tries getting all sultry and stuff, which would probably just end with him leaving promptly. "Fuck that," he begins in his usual chipper way, frowning across at some potted plant that's never done him any harm. "Unless you suddenly get damn good at poker," which he doubts, "you'll take what percent I give you." That look just earns one back, brows up. And he missed the show. Poor guy. Millie settles back in her chair a little, picks up her glass again. "I suck at poker," she confirms and gives his hand another little squeeze. "A third and you pay for my drinks," she suggests, "because I'm not keeping the marks." "Millie." With calm patience, with his thumb tapping aimlessly on the side of her hand, N'thei asks, "How is it, after all this time, that you haven't figured out that I don't bargain with people? It's my way or..." She knows the saying, surely. "It's the principle of the thing," Milani says and aims to capture that thumb to quiet it down. "You'd be disappointed if I didn't try," the headwoman says with a little smile and there go her eyes closing. "A third," she echoes him. He gets to win again this time. N'thei, brows lifted, "You're serious?" Hand-holding and small victories aside, buh? "Wouldn't be me if I didn't." Quietly and Milani hasn't opened her eyes again this time. "But. A third." She says it yet again. "And I won't ask any questions." "Honey, talking about Tillek and Benden and seedy little-- there's easier ways to make money." N'thei really really really didn't think she'd so much as listen to the idea, let alone agree to it. Back-pedaling usually isn't part of his repertoire, so he kind of sucks at it. "Can't be hard-up for cash already." "Could just do it for free," Milani answers, head rolling over to look at him, something faintly amused in her expression. "It's not about the money, N'thei. That's just a side benefit." So... "What's it about, then?" "For the hell of it," is followed by a little shrug. "Same as you, right?" Milani's brows lift, eyes steady on his face again. If he's lying, he's doing a damn fine job of it. "No. Doing it for money." N'thei's pat-pat to her hand while he unthreads his might be meant to apologize for his simple greed. Either way, he stands about then, only just noticing the second glass-- presumably for him. "Generous." "Thought the sun might've made you thirsty," Milani says with a little shrug and draws her hand back to her side of things, settles it back into her lap. "We'll see then. Just ... let me know if you do want a tag-along. Play it by ear, hm?" She's reaching for her own glass again and the pitcher too to refill it. N'thei already said it was generous, and a glance up at the sun, which is awfully warm, reaffirms that summary. "Will let you know," he concludes, jacket folded across his arm on his way out. One would hope that Milani realizes she's never going to get that offer to tag-along? "See you N'thei," follows N'thei off the ledge, Milani settling back with her refilled glass. And it's highly likely she does, but the offer was made in good faith. She doesn't leave right away either, just sits to soak up some of that sun herself, the second glass left untouched until someone should happen by to claim it. |
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