Logs:A Deal Struck On Turnover
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 13 April, 2008 |
| Who: N'thei |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| In the morning, he made his way back to the same seat at the bar, his head aching, his eyes burning, his gut rebelling. He plopped down heavily, grumbled something about a hangover cure, squinted at the wreck of the night's revelry that left its mark in a room not yet tidied. Just settled, just getting the heels of his hands to gouge into his eye sockets, something nagged at the edge of his battered thoughts-- unfamiliar faces, someone smirking, blue eyes watching him with unabashed amusement. The nauseous drink landed by his elbow and he caught it up, spun on the bench to face the person in the corner. A man, older, fair hair graying, blue eyes bright and intelligent. He caught N'thei's gaze and held it, pushed out of his seat and crossed the room with a light-footed grace that reminded the bronzerider just how slouched and over-sized he was, the bull beside a stag. A man's pride caught at a thought, he could break every bone in this man's body twice over, and he sat up straighter to drain the horrendous tomato-and-egg mixture with a grimace. Bleary eyes fixed the older fellow, a smile tricked into place. "I have a proposition for you." "Sorry, mate. You're not my type." "No, but I'm about to grow on you. I'm Rajiv." Handshakes. There was no small talk. It was business. An hour later, the trader stood from the stool he'd taken next to the Weyrleader and asked in no uncertain terms if they'd had a deal. N'thei stuck out his hand, shook on it, and pushed to his feet a moment after without even making a point of looking down and down on the slighter man. They had struck an agreement and went their separate ways; N'thei just caught a glimpse of a fair-haired girl at the edge of the room, of a man in his twenties with her, the two of them with the look of kinship to this Rajiv. |
Leave A Comment