Logs:At Least They Didn't Die
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| RL Date: 24 May, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Z'ian, Heje |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Jo takes Z'ian on a poisonous bar trip. There's updates, an argument, confessions...all while risking their lives with the bar's 'delectable' flavors. |
| Where: The Hole, outside Crom |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Taikrin/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
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| The place's real name is The Hole, but to most of its shady patrons, the dirty-sounding name just doesn't fit the establishment. It looks like some abandoned feed barn that's been caved in at the side, with nature having slowly taken it back at its own. Even the entrance to the place doesn't look much like one - hanging vines and weeds seem braided together to form a curtain to the naked eye. Either the neglect of this place on the outside is done intentionally, or its owners simply don't care about appearances. Jo dismounts from Tacuseth, looking the place over with one of its patrons just lingering outside its 'hidden' entrance as she tosses over to Z'ian, "Admit it. I take ya to the best and most unique of places. Ya been dyin' to hit this place up since I mentioned it back on my turnday." She's in her usual black leathers, no shoulderknot. Z'ian slips from Tsanth with a practiced dismount, landing neatly on the ground. He looks over at the hanging curtain of vines and then towards Jo, appearing dubious. "I seem to remember telling you that I definitely did not want to drink poison." He recalls, a smile twitching up the corner of his lips. The helmet and goggles are secured to the bronze's straps and the dragon moves off to settle elsewhere. This is casual, so he's not wearing his usually bells-and-whistles of a knot. "Ahh, it's not that bad," Jo waves his concerns away with a grin and she approaches him. Dumping the helmet and goggles, "It is really a bar, only, the owner's wife, Randa? She's the poisoner." She clicks her tongue and jerks her head towards the entrance, starting to lead them that way. She starts to pull her gloves off but stops herself, looking over her shoulder at him to add, "Oh. Best keep yer gloves on, darlin'. Some of the drinks burn like fuck if ya get it on ya." She's joking, right? It doesn't seem to phase her either way, though, since she's smiling and looking like they're about to hit up some great and classy establishment. "Yer gonna love it," she continues to say along the way. "It has a certain charm ya won' get anywhere else, and the drinks change with the seasons. Even the place moved around, long time ago, but, guess the owners are gettin' up in age now and no one's really checkin' for this place since that time a guard wandered in and keeled over." She's a walking, talking brochure, really. "Are you sure? How come they have to hide it with plants?" Z'ian argues back, adjusting the zipper on his jacket as he once again glances at the vines. "Oh well, you know. Now that I know it's a family run establishment, that makes it all that much better." In someone else this would sound like a case of the nerves, but for him it's just humorous sarcasm. He falls in step behind her, gloves partway removed when she makes that remark. Is she being serious? It's difficult to tell, so he just smiles crookedly at her and pulls them back down and into place. He'll wait. "It seems like it would get really tiresome to move around. I can barely get out of bed in the morning, forget about regularly moving a bar." Jo gives the non-descript man loitering around the entrance a nod as she answers to Z'ian a breezy "Oh this? They probably don't feel like trimmin' the place up on the outside. Or, maybe it is a cover? I mean, after that guard died here..." Well, she doesn't need to finish that line. She'll try to elbow him in the side for his family comment as she states, "It is! Their son's smithcraft, but I think he'll come back and run this place once his folks kick the bucket. Come on." The man parts the vines and weeds back for them to go through the open door, and once inside they're plunged into heavy shade and dirty window openings. There's a long counter to the right sparsely populated, and the rest of the place is dotted with booths and tables. Towards the back are rows of shelves with jars containing all manner of animal parts and odds and ends. "There's a door behind there," she explains to Z'ian, nodding towards the shelves, "where Randa works. Ya can get any kind of poison known, or she'll find it for ya. Nice lady." Then she'll lead them towards the bar counter, snagging a stool and tossing out a jaunty, "Long time, Heje," as a large, dour-faced man with thinning hair approach them from behind the counter. "The more you bring up the guard dying while he was here, the less I want to consume any drink or food that's inside." Z'ian informs him, making a face when her elbow connects to his side. He flashes her a smile and rubs that spot. "Of course. He'll have rank and opportunity in life. What wouldn't stop him from coming back here and running the place. Looks lucrative." He glances in the direction that she indicates, the wolfish smile making an appearance. "So... Any poison? What about ones that incapacitate mouthy blueriders who take you to suspect places? Makes jokes about dead guys? Tells your skin will melt off? Anything for one of those?" He follows her lead to the bar, pulling out a stool and straddling it as the man approaches. The bronzerider examines the thinning hair line from a distance but keeps politely quiet as she makes her hellos to him. "People die in bars. It's normal," Jo informs him as if this was nothing new. Yes, a poisonous bar would be normal to her. "And this place can be lucrative. I bet Randa pulls lots of marks on the poison side. Ya can be surprised who wants who dead on a daily basis. But, ya could be right," and she takes a long, liberal look about the place. "If he walks the tables, he may not come back. Good thing they have a daughter that's out of the mines around the same time I was." It just gets better and better. Z'ian's remark on poisons for mouthy blueriders earns him a whole shoulder push now and a "Hey! If I'm takin' us out, it's goin' to be in style, and this place is it! It may not be some swanky Weyr bar like the Snowasis, but ya'll look back on this day and thank me for showin' ya the hidden gems in Pern! And, that's if ya make it through the first drink." She flashes a quick smile at him and drops quickly, "Kiddin'. Nah, really, ya'll be fine. Ya'll see. Yer so set on takin' me out on dates and all," so, this is a date now? Hege approaches with no smile lighting up his face, eyeing Z'ian first before he answers Jo with a grunting, "Jo. Still alive, I see." - "Yeah, I'm hard to rub out," Jo returns that, adding as an aside to the wingleader, "It's how we greet. Anyway," back to Hege, "we wanna check out yer menu and see whatcha got. It'll be my treat." The bar owner nods and turns to go and grab a hanging board scrawled with writing for them. "Okay well, then it's not the bar part that's lucrative. It's the sell people poison to kill other people part that's really raking in the marks. This is like moonlighting." Z'ian waves his hand around to indicate the tables and chairs, the booths. At the mention of their other offspring, he drops his elbow onto the counter and spreads his fingers across his face, staring between them at her. His look is humorously skeptical as she moves along through her explanation, only towards the end do his eyebrows hike up. "Really. I thought I took you out on an exceptional date for your turnday. I'll try to aim for a bar that has a greater ambiance of ripe mold and," He sniffs mock-delicately at the air. "Dog urine? I don't want to disappoint you again." He's teasing, he can't help it. That smile even finds its way onto the largely bald man, again allowing her to speak for them both. There's a bark of laughter from Jo; apparently she's enjoying Z'ian's discomfort at her place of choice. Leaning at an angle towards him against the counter as she starts to unfasten down her jacket since it's a little warm in the place, "Well, we can' judge these poor, nice folks on their choice of business products," she states with faux graveness to him. Would'ja judge me if I woke up one day and decided to start sellin' somethin' like, I dunno, that black marital aid Bones got Taikrin last turn? Ya know her turnday just passed." His comment on dog urine and ripe mold gets heard by Hege as he returns, responding before the bluerider could. "Canine urine's next season," is his cut in, deadpan response, which of course have Jo snorting and putting in behind his, "I forgot what a real funny man ya are, Heje." Then to Z'ian, "I loved that bar ya took me. I'd love anyplace ya take me." Despite all the teasing and the banter, that is at least spoken in a genuine tone. She clears her throat and looks back to the waiting bar owner with the menu board and starts looking over the list of drinks and reading them out. "Okay! Lessee...they've got Runner's Blood Brew, I'm assumin' made with real blood...there's the Pickled Tunnelsnake Skin Ale I've told'ja about. A popular choice...Venom Wine's real good, makes yer tongue stick weird...Stinger Ales in red, gold, blue and black...another favorite...Ooooh, Powdered Bone Klah's a new one...so is Ash Brew...Sap Blood...Teak Poison Liquor, that's strong...Randa's Secret is a dangerous one...and last is Steeped Rat Brew." She looks to Z'ian then. He leans forward onto the bar from his seat, pressing his form into her personal space. Not exactly quietly put, "You know what people don't normally commit murder with? Dildos." Z'ian is just going to put it out there. Whether it's a 'real' Pernese term or not. "Just saying." He pulls back and smirks, lifting his eyebrows and flickering his glance around the place. "What a shame, no big party full of all her loyal supporters? Oh, wait." The bronzerider snaps his fingers on that last one before moving on. The smirk transitions to something softer when she tells all about how she liked the last place and the part about anyplace. He removes his hand from his face and runs it up her back, stopping at the beginning of her neck and giving brief squeeze. "I know." It's that simple. She begins to read outloud and he makes occasional gagging noises. Especially when Heje chimes in about canine urine. "Ah, I guess. Stinger Ales in-" All those colors sound unnatural for ale. "Blue? Because I want to make sure when I piss funny colors tomorrow that it's not red. I don't need to think it's blood." Z'ian gets a look for his answer: dildos don't kill. Jo can't help but to laugh loudly enough to draw attention for that. "I wouldn' rule that one out, either," she counters to that as her laughter winds down. One look at Heje, he's not finding it funny. When Z'ian leans close, she has her hand gripping his thigh, staying there even after he leans away. On Taikrin, she has to give him a brief, pointed look for that, and says, "Ya should at least send her somethin' for her turnday. A bottle of stinger ale if yer feelin' so generous. Or a sign that says 'I can' stand you'. Since ya still can', Lord Tithe." She's referring to the tithe train in Tillek, having indeed heard. Not that she's pissed or anything - just one more thing to goad him about, perhaps. His simple answer, just as genuine, says much with her own - it's all that needs saying between them next to lingering touches given. Then, back to the menu, and she looks to Heje with, "What should I expect with the Powdered Bone Klah? That one sounds interestin'," she adds the last for Z'ian's benefit. Sending the bronzerider a look, "Runnerbeast bones, crushed to a fine powder in spiked klah. It's cold," he seems to warn about it being a cold drink rather than the fact that it has crushed bone in it. Then, to the gagging noises and Z'ian's choice, "Ya'll piss purple, at least," is his dry comedic timing. Jo's rolling her eyes between those two and says, "Blue stinger ale's a good choice. Makes yer whole mouth tingle somethin' fierce, but ya'll get used to after awhile. Yeah. We'll take one of those," she sends to the owner, "and I'll gives the bone klah a try." He nods and turns away to get their drinks. "If you kill someone with it, you're using it the wrong way." He just has to get one more in before he leans back in close, not seemingly concerned with invading that personal space. Especially if her hand is going to sit there on his leg like that. "Oh no, I think that I'm going to pass. I don't remember Taikrin sending me anything for my turnday. I don't see any reason to go messing up that tradition now. Anyway, that would be just one more person I had to get something for. I'm already at three I've hit my limit. There's no more room." Because three people is a huge imposition for a person to have buy gifts for, you know, once a Turn. His deeply smile has returned as if he's just made a great joke or slipped something in somewhere that she could miss and might not catch him on. Ha! "Sounds like a recipe for some cannibalistic drink. Maybe that's what they did with the guard they poison-" Oh, it's just runnerbeast bones. Z'ian sighs at length, fixing Heje with a long look. "You could at least work with me on it." As far as pissing purple, he gives the other man a raised eyebrow. He knows how the color wheel works. But then, as if he belatedly caught onto something, "Lord Tithe. Woman, I am going to make you pay for that later. You know how difficult that sort of thing makes my life." "It's good to be innovative," is all Jo can give on the first, her long fingers digging into his thigh for it. As for Taikrin, "Yer actin' like she ate a puppy of yers," she notes, shaking her head. "Were ya told any new stories? Like, maybe some Weyrleader in the past was really a Weyrwoman? Y'seem to have calmed down, at least." Heje returns now with their drinks: the stinger blue ale is a mug of pale blue liquid, and something that looks like small tentacle with suckers have been dried out and sticking out of the drink with its tip curled around a tiny blue flower for garnish. The bone klah's in a mug, too, with murky depths and the fine bone dust seen floating on the surface. There's a thin, shaved bone sticking out of it to stir the contents with, looking smooth and polished. Jo whistles her appreciation as the strange-looking drinks arrive, just as the owner states to Z'ian on cannibalistic drinks, "That's next season, too." He pauses on the next though before he adds heavily, "No one's died here in six months. Enjoy yer drinks." That sounds like an achievement, and he's gone before he hears anything else about his 'lovely' establishment. Not that Jo cares. She's reaching for her cold spiked klah, using the bone to stir the contents as she looks over at Z'ian's concoction. "That strong tingle's gonna grate down yer throat," she explains his drink, clearly having had it before. "The blue one's not that bad about. Ya won' choke or anything. If yer darin', try the black one. One of those will have ya staggerin' outta here." Beat. "Ya been pickin' up a basket of titles, huh?" she now teases on Lord Tithe. "Lord Tithetrain, I should call ya. Shani told me about it." She's watching him now, right as she brings the drink to her lips for a healthy taste. He lifts an eyebrow for innovation, running that hand up her back again. "I am not. We're not friends, I've tried being civil, it's not appreciated. That's it. I'm most certainly not going to send her presents." The bronzerider raises his shoulders and shrugs, as if that's very much the end of conversation on that. Unless of course she means to push the topic of Taikrin. "Stories? They're not stories, Jo. They're things that have actually happened at our home. Just because they're things that aren't great that involve people you like doesn't make them fictitious." Just then the drinks arrive and he glances down at them, attention briefly fixated on that tentacle thing that's sticking out of his. It's enough of a break to allow him to redirect his focus onto something else. "Well, I guess it would have to wait until next season. It takes awhile for bones to dry out." He wraps his hands around the glass, drawing it towards himself. When the subject of Aishani twists back around again he takes the opportunity to drink, occupying himself for a time. "I'm sure that she did." "I still don' like this rift," Jo notes, just for the sake of noting with a brief pointed look. That look even lingers through the next, but then the drinks arrive, "And the 'things that actually have happened' that involve the folks you like? Will they be afforded the same?" is what's rhetorical, before the healthy dose of the klah has her coughing. "Well, that's bitter," she comments to it, but, that's not stopping her from stirring the contents and drinking it again. "How's yers? Wanna taste mine?" His response on the Weyrwoman has her considering him for a moment longer than she should, then after another dose of the drink she sets it down long enough to straighten up and dig into the inner pockets of her jacket to pull out a crumpled, folded letter. Setting it down on the counter between, "Almost forgot to give ya this," she states, reclaiming her mug with a chin-nod towards it. "It's from yer brother. I ran into him a while back while I was out. Alec." "You're not supposed to like it, that's why they call it a rift and not vacation-from-friends. The point is that it's uncomfortable." Z'ian replies between sips, taking a measured breath between the first and then the next. He clears his throat, not uncomfortably. "You hear me trying to get you to go out to dinner with K'del? Saying Azaylia is the one and only hope of our weyr?" The bronzerider puts back to her, eyebrows lifted. The hand that trails up her back tightens suddenly and he runs it up to her neck, then drags a finger to her jaw. "Sorry." He mumbles, barely audible. "I don't want that getting between the two of us. We don't have a rift." Having adjusted now he takes a longer draw from the mug, and gives an appreciative nod. "It's good. Has a bite to it. I'm not sure that I want to dri- What the fuck did you just say?" He glances down at the letter that's laid out between them on the counter. He's slow to touch it. "He's been- I haven't been able to get a hold of him in months. How?" To say he's astonished would be an understatement. Finally the mug is lowered and he reaches out for the envelope. Taking it up in one end, he thumbs along the flap. "Have you been snooping?" He suddenly wonders, curious as a smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. "I'm surprised ya haven'," Jo quips back in a matching deadpan voice to Heje's on dinners and one and only hopes. She meets Z'ian's gaze steadily on the matter, not backing down on her end of it until his hand reaches her neck and his mumbles an apology. To the next, "I think some folks think it's a wonder we get along at all," she notes after another dose of the cold drink. "Knowin' where I stand. Where ya stand. So no, we don' have a rift." Just strong opinions. At Z'ian's assessment of the drink he has, she gives him a crooked smirk that's openly pleased. "Good," she states simply. "Told'ja. When have I ever steered ya wrong?" She could add more, but the letter gets his attention and she reaches over to nudge it his way. Propping up an elbow on the counter, "I was out gettin' some cargo, and the boat he works on just happened to be the one that had it," she explains, not seeming to hold back any details. "He looks fine, by the way. Rough around the edges, though. He figured out who I was," and she looks hard at the bronzerider then, "and gave me the letter. Of course I read it." She's not hiding that fact either. "He's.interestin'. Shady as fuck, too." Like she should talk. "You're surprised, why? Because I proclaim my utter devotion to these people at all times?" Z'ian lifts an eyebrow, looking something close to annoyed now. "I feel like you've decided to view who I am based on something other than how I act or the things I say." His shoulders begin to tense and he shakes his head. "You're the one who keeps trying to push Taikrin on me. As if I've been wandering around the last several months throwing bottles with lit rags stuffed into them at her weyr." The rise in irritation catches even him by surprise and he looks away, taking a breath in and just stopping. His fingers tense where they lay on her neck before he taps them in place there, then rubs at the base. Despite it, he's actually not spoiling for a fight. It's easier now to just focus on the topic of his brother and he goes to it like some sort of twisted salvation. "He always looks rough around the edges. He smokes and drinks too much." His finger runs under the flap of the envelope again and he pops it open, dragging the letter out. His eyes flicker over the scrawling handwriting, glancing up to catch that hard look. "Sorry. He could get anything out of me, really. As messed up as he is... He's still pretty sharp." Z'ian comments and stops at one part that he reads, rolls his eyes. "Like that's going to happen." The part about him leaving his brother alone. "Did he play nice?" Tossing her hair back from her face, "No," Jo answers simply. It's almost mutinous. "I push to change this game ya all seem bent on playin', not to push Taikrin on ya. But. This ex-con can keep her mouth shut on the matter from here on, and just stick to what she's good at. Not my fight, after all." She tries to shoulder Z'ian's hand off her now, her back stiff. Now she appears somewhat irritated, though at least she hasn't walked out of the place. She chooses to glare into her mug instead of him, though when she hears that flap of the envelope, her gaze transfers from her mug to that. "I could tell," she comments on Alec being sharp, nodding once. "Definitely not a fool, but, that comes with experience with the outside. He seems to think ya worry about him too much." Yes, she read the letter. To answer the last, she glances sidelong at Z'ian before giving a slight shrug and a "Nice enough. We didn' have long to talk. Just enough to get his name outta him and get the note from him. We both were on tight schedules." Suddenly the idea of losing himself in this other distraction doesn't seem so attractive. Z'ian abruptly stuffs the letter back into the envelope and shoves that into one of the inner pockets of his jacket. She's pushed his hand off of her but it doesn't stop him from reaching out to put a finger under her chin, to try and turn her glaring face towards him. "Fine, be angry at me." He tells her first before adding, "I'm getting angry because I feel like..." The bronzerider struggles with it, shaking his head back and forth. "Because I need you and not because I want something from you. But because you matter to me and feeling like you think that I'm being unreasonable- It makes me feel like maybe I'm doing everything wrong. And then I want to convince you because then- Oh fuck it." He pulls his hand away and rubs it on his face instead, helpless. Then he reaches for his glass and swallows every ounce of tingling blue liquid, which sets off a coughing fit. Which is well, very manly at a time like this. Despite Jo shrugging his touch off, Z'ian's able to take her chin and turn her intent glare onto him. "Fine, I will," she counters right behind his first before he continues, enough for it to be without thinking. She falls silent for the rest, though, just staring him down as he struggles with his words. "Ya are bein' unreasonable," she notes towards the end, blunt. "Ya all are. Notice how I said all, darlin'. Not just you. But what do I care? I rather like the chaos. I hope it sticks around and ya'll attack each other. Maybe a ring will spring up in the middle of the bowl and there's actual bouts. Maybe I'll win some marks off yer ass outta all this, at least." Her look turning pointed, "So by all means," she drawls, "please continue. If the Weyr is meant to burn, I'm bringin' out the meatsticks in advance." The flippant way she speaks, and rapidly, it's likely just her blowing off steam than actually meaning it. Right? Then, her chin lifting once he releases it and loses his words, "Why?" she asks now. "Why do ya think I would think yer doin' everythin' wrong? Yer drivin' me crazy with this, sure, but, who gives a shit? I'm sure I do things to drive ya crazy, too. Why do ya wanna convince me, huh?" But he's coughing now and she sighs before smacking him hard on the back to clear his passages, twice. "Breathe in, out," she states, looking around. "Ain' the first one to do that." She's continuing to talk and he's continuing to hack, wheeze and clear his throat. Even as he's following her instructions, he's rolling his eyes at the ceiling at the other conversation that they're having. Also, ow. For that back smacking. When he can finally talk again he takes a deep breath, coughing purposely a few more times. "Because you act like you think I'm doing things wrong. I'm making the best decisions I can make on the information that I have. And woman, I swear sometimes." He begins to shake his head and his hand comes down to cover the top of his mug. "You're driving me crazy. I'm with you at some hole in the wall place that I could probably get stabbed at. All my closest allies look at your wing and you as if you're sewn to Taikrin at the hip. They look at me with you sometimes like maybe I could possibly be some sort of 'traitor.' And I don't care, I'm with you anyway. I'm with you. I've been with you. Fuck everyone else." He drops his elbow down onto the countertop and catches her chin again. "If you don't understand what that means without me having to spell it out even further, Jolie? I'm going to get some meatsticks and burn you over a firepit. Because then you're just being thick on purpose." The corners of his mouth twitch, just a little as he uses her own sarcastic humor against her. Okay, Jo gives Z'ian's back one more hit, even if it's clear he doesn't need it. She's also sending a watching and frowning Heje a smile and brief jerk of her chin: all is good here! Nothing to see. Move along. But she puts her hand back to her drink and takes long sip of it, her having returned to Z'ian once again. She doesn't interrupt him this time, though, seeming to let him say his peace. She's searching his gaze, even though her expression is still defiant, but her brows furrow a bit once he reaches the last. With him catching her chin again, "Kait thinks I can be dense...with this stuff," she states, somewhat awkwardly now, but she firms up her composure and adds, "Spell it out, Z'ian. Right here in a place ya think ya'll get stabbed in. Tell me why ya bother riskin' bein' made to look like a traitor, by bein' here with me." She's dropped the sarcastic bit at least, though she adds on the last, "Ya'd have to catch me, first." She's trying not to grin, but her lips are doing a weird quirk to try and stop it from happening. Did she need to hit him that third time? After that Z'ian puts one arm out protectively to stop her from beating him at the bar any further. When she smiles at Heje, he blinks and looks over at the other man. Waving the protecting-arm, "I'm fine! See? I won't be part of your drink or stew next turn!" He calls to him, flashing the owner a wolfish smile. But then it's back to the more serious conversation, humor aside. "Oh, for fucks sake." The hand that's on her chin doesn't so much pull her towards him as it steadies her for the way he comes in. It's a briefly forceful, intense kiss that doesn't last as long as it could or normally /would/. He pulls back so that he can push her hair out of the way and press his mouth to her ear, "I'm in love with you." And then because maybe he expects some sort of recoil of horror on her part, he slips an arm tightly around her waist. Just in case her first instinct is to flee into the night. "I would catch you." He tags on, trying to sound light despite the most recent admission. Hands lifting as if she wasn't going to hit him again, Z'ian's remark to Heje earns a dry "Yer tongue might." Heje snorts and turns away. Jo could add more, but then he's firming his hand and putting that rough kiss on her. When he pulls away, she's trying to linger on it before the kiss breaks, frustration at him evident in her intense gaze until he does spell it out for her. Lips part as if she was going to say something, but nothing comes out. She just stares at him as he slips that arm about her waist, perhaps alluding to the admission being unexpected. First instinct does have her back meeting that arm barrier briefly, and it's a long moment that she's staring at him until, "Ya...shouldn' be," she says, exhaling. Everything else seems momentarily forgotten. Then, with a bit of a smirk touching her lips, "That's pretty dangerous, Wingleader. Are ya sure 'bout that?" About catching her. About being in love with her. The convict rider is clearly out of her depth with something like this, but she's not pulling away. She's too tough for that. He puts his fingers to her mouth, just for a moment while he gathers the mental fortitude to start talking again. "I don't even want to hear that." That he shouldn't be, that he's wrong or that it's dangerous. "I'm completely sure." When she doesn't fight to escape him, he loosens up that grip around her waist so she can move more freely if she wants. "I was getting you something that I was going to give to you in a few months. You know, to really make this all the more terrifying for both of us. It's not going to have the same on-the-spot awkwardness." Z'ian explains further, managing a laugh and shaking his head. It really wasn't supposed to come out tonight, he had been planning on buying himself a least a few more months of time. "Don' wanna hear it cuz it's true?" Jo puts to him rhetorically, with a look, even though she still looks a bit sheepish. When he says the latter, there's a longer silence as she considers him - whether he's looking her way or not. Then, abruptly as she turns back to her drink and starts to stir the bone into the concoction rapidly, "Well...maybe that's why I get on yer case so much about that shit." Certain chaotic politics. Still not looking at him, "Cuz...I feel the same way. And shit." It's hard for her to admit that much and it shows in her not even saying it to his face. Before she says anything else, she's suddenly upending the rest of that drink right into her mouth and gagging as too much of its bitterness hits her throat. "Fuckin' balls!" she grates out as she puts her backhand to her mouth, having just pulled the same thing Z'ian did earlier. There's even some moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes, the taste working its bitter wonder on her system as she bowls over. To him, "Terrifyin'. Yer a romantic at heart, bronzerider," she grates through her teeth, trying to get through the abundance of bitter taste. "Please." Z'ian puts to her rhetorical questioning, declining to get into one of their back and forth matches over that one. At least tonight. Somehow it actually seemed like he wasn't expecting her to say anything back in response, nothing in kind at least. Her response takes him aback and he glances at her now, eyebrows lifting up. Before he can say anything she's taking the same route he did, downing all of her drink in one blow. He pats her on the back and leans in, "Breathe in, out. Ain't the first one to do that." The bronzerider mimics her own words from earlier back at her with a sly smirk. Defensively, perhaps foreseeing her impending irritation for that one, he puts an arm up and winces in anticipation. Coughing into a fist, "Ya make it too easy to goad, ya know," Jo notes aloud, now that the drink's effects were passing, "And I suspect there's more than just klah and bone powder in that drink!" This last is tossed over towards Heje's back. She steals a glance at Z'ian then, catching his reaction to her admittance and she looks back at her drink again. At least he saves her from being all awkward with his next, for the bluerider snorts and tries to give him a good elbow as she says, "Ha ha, smart-ass. Ya declare yer in love with me and I nearly choke to death. This is by far one of the most romantic dates I've ever been on," all given deadpan before she finally breaks out into a lopsided grin. With him wincing in anticipation, she moves to aim a jab to that raised arm, then to his side - even though it's not a whole lot of heat behind them before she asks, "Ya know I ain' too good with this stuff. Still, whatcha gettin' me?" She is a woman, and she likes gifts. "Is it a secret? I'm to be surprised?" "You too." Z'ian points out, wrapping her up in his arms when she begins to jab at him in multiple places. She makes her joke to him and laughs even though her expression is deadpan, he buries his face into her shoulder momentarily before giving her some space. "That's why you like me. I turned this into a near death experience somehow. You can't say that for the rest of the people that try to take you out for a good time." For her question, he narrows his eyes playfully and shakes his head. "Oh, no. You made me spell it out tonight when I wasn't planning on it. Now you've got to wait until a little over a month from now. Then you get your present. So, yes. It's a secret." That she wants to know has him grinning, the kind of dumb smile a man can get when he's so completely pleased with someone's reaction. With her being wrapped up so in his arms, Jo tries to get fingers underneath Z'ian's shirt to reach his skin - or nails at least - when two of the male patrons passing them on the way out can be heard to mutter, "What kind of sick fuck takes a girl to this place'n makes out with her?" It has her laughing as they break apart, Z'ian's response on her liking him earning a, "I think we're scandalous every time we leave the Weyr together," she has to agree with that. "Now we're goin' to have to find a way to top this one. We're still breathin', right?" Yes, they survived the poison bar. "Guess this makes our outtin' a success, then," she notes with a smirk. "Bone klah wasn' bad, really. I'd drink it again." After it does nearly gag her to death. Her fingers are still, against his warm skin even he had released her, but she pulls away so that she can reach inside her jacket for the marks. His answer on the gift has her turning a brief glare his way along with, "Ya could've spelled out that I was an ass, not that ya were in love with me. Which, as amazin' as I am, of course ya are." Well that over-confidence was bound to make a comeback in all this eventually. She has recovered from her awkwardness. Flapping fingers, "Fine, fine, I'll wait," she says as she drops more than enough marks on the counter for their drinks, eyeing that dumb smile. " I'll be good at least for a whole day. In the meantime, I do actually need ya to keep the Weyr chaos goin' a bit," she states with a toss of hair. "I've gotta package comin' that enjoys the smell of weakness. Kin and Bar." She pays the owner and he grabs her by the arm, pulling her close as he gets off of the stool. The passing matrons are met with a laugh and he shakes his head, "Really. I'm not exactly sure how we're going to do that, but someday I'm sure that we'll come up with a way." Z'ian seems certain of that at least, even as he begins to zip up his riding jacket with one hand. "Blue stinger's ale wasn't bad. But I don't know that I'm going to make a habit out of it." He grins crookedly, "No? If you want I could take it back and call you an ass instead. But I figured you'd want the truth." At the mention of the familiar names, he hikes an eyebrow upwards. "I can't guarantee chaos. But I don't think you're likely to see it return to normal anytime soon." He has that for her at least. Off the stool with Z'ian grabbing her by the arm. Jo draws arms about his waist as she snorts on the drink and turns to toss up a finger in farewell to the watching Heje as she tries to guide them both towards the entrance. "Next time, ya try the Venom wine," she states with certainly. "Keep the momentum up. Who needs habits? Just, experience!" There's only laughter for the rest, and as she leads him out, "Come on. I'll tell ya all about it," presumably Kinervus and Bareta. "Opportunity. That's all I'm askin' for. Opportunity."
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