Logs:Bad At Talking
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 2 June, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, Jadzia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Neither A'rist nor Jadzia are very good at people, evidently. Especially not together. |
| Where: Snowasis, HRW |
| When: Day 23, Month 2, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Rain |
  |
| There are some chores that Jadzia doesn't like very much, others she's just plain not very good at. But today she got to spend much of her day in the stables where she feels practically at home. And now she's huddled at one end of the bar in the Snowasis with a drink and seats to spare around her. It probably has something to do with the stable-y smell still lingering on her that she hasn't bothered to wash off of herself yet. A'rist's jacket is shiny from the rain when he enters the Snowasis, shrugging out of it the moment he's under cover, holding it out from himself with one hand while the other goes to sweep off his hat. He takes a moment, as if catching his breath, looking over the crowd and out toward the patio, and, no doubt, contemplating the weather beyond. It's one of the servers who comes up to him, where he's blocking the entrance, and points him to some empty chairs. It's only once he's there that he recognises the... Jadzia, and then, pulls a chair right next to her. The blonde is busy with her own thoughts so it's not until A'rist is pulling up a chair next to her that she looks at him. Jadzia doesn't even really seem to recognize him at first. But a double-take has her eyes narrowing at him, lips turning down just slightly at the corners. "You need something?" she asks rather than offering what might be a more typical sort of greeting. "This is supposed to be my free time." "I think it's most people's free time," A'rist answers, looking over his shoulder for that server who sent him packing - and who has yet to approach for an order. Dark eyes flick over her face once, twice. "You're the one who tried to stare down Lythronath." True enough, though Jadzia seems just slightly annoyed by him pointing that out. Maybe it was supposed to be a hint. She doesn't keep trying to make it, though. Instead she takes a drink and then says, "And you're the jerk who can't control his stupid dragon. I'd say thanks for not letting him eat me, but I'm pretty sure you couldn't have stopped him if that's what he'd really wanted." Hiss. A'rist pivots to drape the jacket over the back of his chair, the hat disappearing somewhere into its sleeve before he turns back to Jadzia. "He didn't want to eat you," A'rist says, blank, "so I didn't have to hold him back or change his mind." He brings his hands to rest on the table. "Besides, you're the one who tried to beat him. Don't be sore just because you couldn't." "Crom is mine, not some stupid dragon's." Which doesn't make as much sense now that Jadzia is firmly stuck at the Weyr. For now, anyway. "So what do you want if it's not to apologize for Lythronath? Are you gonna buy me a drink?" Because that might actually make them okay. Even if she has one already. And there's no telling which number this is. A'rist gives her another long look over, the beginnings of a smile creeping at the edge of his face. "I thought Lady Holders normally have some sort of like," and he looks around, obviously, "guard or something." That smile, it's growing. "Probably, they'd do better fighting for territory, too." One hand lifts, a finger flicking in the direction of her glass. "What are you drinking? If they she even comes back." The look Jadzia turns toward the bronzerider is not amused. But possibly amusing. "I don't think I like you," she decides, just like that. And then? Then she's just going to pretend like he's not there. Except, when the server comes, Jadzia will help make sure that she does, she'll be sure to tell her what she wants A'rist to buy for her. The bronzerider can turn his attentions elsewhere for a few moments, easily enough, letting his gaze fall to the room around them once again. When that server comes, he gets himself his usual ale, and makes an appropriately dramatic pause for whatever it is Jadzia wants. And then, once this contract's been set up: "So are you just touring your beholden Weyr, or are you setting up shop here? Trying to edge in on Nabol's hold, maybe?" He props an elbow on the table, and puts his chin in his hand, while asking. "Don't you have someone else you can bother?" asks Jadzia instead of answering his ridiculous questions. "Besides, if I were a Lady, I wouldn't have been shoveling shit out of stalls all day. And I wouldn't be here drinking cheap booze," except for what she ordered with his money, "or sleeping on a hard cot in the barracks with people snoring all around me." "My dragon scared all the other people I could bother away," A'rist shrugs, head still held up on his hand. "And snoring's not the worst they could be doing." Another little grin from the teenager. "So does that mean you had a stare-down with some other dragon? Maybe it went better?" Jadzia has to look at him before she can roll her eyes. Otherwise the affect might be lost. But she moves on to the barracks with, "It's not the worst they're doing. It's like being in training all over again. Except there are more girls." It's much better than being surrounded by almost exclusively teenaged boys. "Something like that," for her other stare-down, dragon or no. A'rist doesn't much seem moved by the roll of her eyes. "But probably not like that at all," comes with an upward twitch of his eyebrows. Now, A'rist looks away, to his fingers still resting on the table, to the table itself. "Not like with Lythronath." "No," she agrees readily enough. "Not like that." Jadzia finishes off her current drink before returning blue eyes to the bronzerider. "Are you any good at stare-downs? With people, I mean. Not dragons. You don't seem as... intense as him." It's a nice way of putting what she's thinking, anyway. For as long as it took to get service, those drinks arrive quite promptly. Maybe the server was taking pity on one or the other of them. A'rist, he manages a nod for her, but is mostly listening to Jadzia, eyes having roved over her way again once she's started talking. He lets her finish, and it's not fully clear what he's addressing when he says, "Sometimes I am." Her drink is passed to her. His is then taken, and a sip from that. This drink is one to be savored, really. But Jadzia takes a healthy swallow of it and has an appreciative hiss for the way it goes down. Good stuff! Gee, thanks, A'rist! "You aren't very good at talking." But she's fantastic, clearly. Only a bit of hesitation before A'rist offers, "I used to be better at it." Another swallow. Then, "But most people, they kind of talk in their heads all the time, you know? I don't really, anymore. Not words, not like that." With a longer look to Jadzia, and a bit of a lift of one eyebrow, "Maybe most of what you really need isn't talk anyway." Presumably, he doesn't mean her, but a general 'you', for how it's phrased. "Talking is a little overrated. Prefer a few drinks and a good fuck most times over talking. Too much talking can mess that up." But whatever Jadzia might like more than talking, she still asks, "What do you really need, then? If it's not talking?" What she likes more than talking, that brings a wry sort of smirk to the bronzerider's face, a little snort coming in time with it. "Those things. And whatever else works. It doesn't have to make sense in words, maybe. Not most of it." That could be his cue to stop talking. Or it could be the beer that he lifts again, looking over to Crom's Lady Holder in the process. The answer makes the blonde consider the bronzerider for a careful few moments before she finally asks, like it could be important, "Are you better at fucking than talking, bronzerider? Maybe we should try that instead." Jadzia sounds serious; looks it, too, as she sips at her drink. A'rist's face has gone toward that stare-down of earlier discussion, dark eyes more intense, now. It's a wait, another slow drink (leaving his glass mostly empty) before he decides, "Maybe not for someone who couldn't even keep their eyes on my dragon's." His head tilts, a bit skeptical, any uncertainty expressed in the twitch at the edge of his mouth. She reacts before she can keep herself from showing it. It's a noticeable flare of anger, or something close to it, and then it's gone. Jadzia finishes her drink and starts to rise. "Suit yourself, bronzerider." The way she says that would suit something more like 'asshole' a little better. "Thanks for the drink." Except there's not any real gratitude in her thanks, and then she's turning to go. Maybe to find someone she hasn't spent so much time talking to. And A'rist? He bares his teeth, and makes a clicking sound in his throat, and grips his glass a little tighter. A hard kick goes to her empty chair once she's turned to go. Surely she hears the sounds made, both unnerving throat clicking and chair kicking, but Jadzia doesn't jump or turn back to look at the younger man again. She heads for the exit toward the caverns and who knows where she goes from there! At least it's not to proposition more bronzeriders? Probably. |
Leave A Comment