Logs:Playing The Part
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| RL Date: 17 July, 2015 |
| Who: R'hin, Jo, Albret |
| Involves: Ista Area |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin invites Jo along to help wrangle him up a/n friend (informant). |
| Where: Lucky Seven, Ista Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 4, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: M'kris/Mentions |
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The Lucky Seven, Ista Weyr The main, double doors that lead in to the tavern are, as a rule, left open, leading into the wide main room of the tavern. Directly across from the entrance, stretched across the long back wall, stands the focus of the room, indeed the entire building; the bar is made of a deep, red-brown wood and polished to a heady shine and behind it shelves stand with rows of clean glasses and tankards of all sizes and shapes. To the left of the bar is a staircase that allows access to a mundane upper story, a single hall lined with modest rooms for rent, and to the right is an arched doorway leading to a darker gaming room. But most of the action happens out in the middle, in among the haphazardly arranged tables and their allotted chairs. Though there are a few feminine touches draped around, a sage green curtain here or a coral red tablecloth there, when the tall room is filled with people there is no mistaking the testosterone-driven atmosphere of the place. After an early evening spent lazily in the warm confines of R'hin's weyr, the weather turns colder at High Reaches, snowfall beginning again as the evening turns chilly. However, rather than stay in, the bronzerider insists on a change of clothes for somewhere warmer, opening up Bristia's closet for choice (pointedly without the greenrider's consent -- something that'll undoubtedly come back to bite him later!) It's the familiar island of Ista that Leiventh shares as his image, and the warmth when they emerge from between is more than welcome. It's slightly later here, but still warm, and the Lucky Seven is full of people, a tavern that's a bit more high class than they probably ordinarily frequent. R'hin, though, has that certain look in his eye, seemingly pleased as he takes in the occupants. "Drink?" he suggests, to start. It's probably no longer rare to find Tacuseth's blue hide on Leiventh's ledge. Jo is easy to seduce to run to warmer climes from the Reachian cold (dressed without the black leather for once, thanks to Bristia's closet), the blue following the bronze to Ista. Since it was warm, the convict rider has her scarred shoulders bare in a halter top and loose drawstring pants, making her look androgynous with a touch of femininity and strapped still with her knives. So, once seated at the Lucky Seven, the woman taking in the classier clientele with an amused look, "Of course," she answers on drinks with a nod. Then she asks as she takes in the occupants, "Been here before?" "Once," R'hin allows, then with a more genuine grin, "Or twice, or so." He tugs a hand through his hair, leaning closer to murmur, "Not my usual sort of place, but--" with a gesture, "Drinks, always make people talk. And you have to go where the people are, no?" The slight lift of hand flags a passing waitress, and rather than their usual beer, or harder stuff, he orders something with a fruity name, "and a few of those umbrella things in there too,", in a forcefully cheerful tone, that fades back into something more typically R'hin when he grins back at Jo. "Keep an eye out," he suggests, easily. "Not everyday I go somewhere fancy," Jo notes, herself at her usual ease with any type of people. "But I agree. Drinks do make folks talk. Is there someone here yer lookin' to make talk?" and she casts an eye around, just in case. Brows both lifts at the sort of drinks he orders, and she turns from them, she leans over and murmurs, "Umbrellas?" But his last is more him, the convict rider giving a soft snort as she leans back to get more comfortable and gives the crowd her idle study as she says, "I trust things on yer end are goin' well, darlin'? Hope yer haven' been gettin' into shit without me." Because that would be unbearable, apparently. "Plenty," Of shit, presumably, and not at all apologetic about it, either, to judge by the gleaming of pale eyes. R'hin's gaze wanders through the room, as is his habit, but inevitably keeps flickering back to Jo. "More like... make acquaintance with. He's not often outside of his... wheelhouse, but I heard he'd be here tonight, for some on-the-quiet mobile gambling enterprise. Not sure on the where exactly, but I figure if anyone, you'll be able to help me spot the gamblers-wanting-to-get-their-itch-scratched look." Listening, Jo's grin grows the more she hears. "Look at ya," she drawls out, teasingly. "Comin' out, makin' friends. Well, anyway I can be of service, of course, darlin'. Is this the sort of 'meet-my-sharp-stick' kind of makin' friends?" That seems to be one of the only ways she knows, by the way she says it. "But, gamblin' enterprise." That, she seems to seek more information on as she looks in vain for their waitress with their drinks. "Mm. Sort of, there-are-worse-things-than-me, but I can help you if you help me, kind of making friends," R'hin amends, with a twitch of lips. "Less stick, more... finger root." He's chuckling briefly under his breath, eyes roving again. "You know. Rent out a room for the evening. Bring in locals to help filter out the undesirables, fleece them for their marks, and move on. Requires a fair bit of organization, but there's always someones looking to go somewhere other than the official establishments. Normally because they're banned, but that's entirely the sort of clientele that's attracted to this sort of thing." No sign of their waitress -- maybe she got waylaid by the group of riders over near the bar? Near the bar, too, at the staircase entry, is a bulky looking man, clearly a stand-in muscle, and he barely seems to grunt in response as a twitchy figure approaches him. There's a brief exchange of something, before the muscle steps to one side, and the twitchy man disappears up the staircase. Jo snorts again as she shifts in her seat to look at R'hin. He has her rapt attention as he explains, even, the woman nodding once at something said before she states, "Shit. Could've used a place like that some time ago. Needed to fleece a couple of farmers without openly appearin' to. 'Course I succeeded, but," and a slight shrug is given. "Ya've gotta good idea, R'hin. I know the Rusty Nail back home would be open for it." Dark eyes find where their waitress is first, but then it cut towards the bulky sort of man that had just let someone past him go up the stairs. "Now that's curious," she leans over gently towards the bronzerider to note, her eyes lighting only briefly towards him. The bronzerider shakes his head, after a moment, shifting his posture as fingers clench briefly. "Not looking to get in on it. Marks make people crazy, angry, vengeful. It's a weakness." R'hin's voice is rather vehement, leaning towards Jo after a moment, fingers brushing under her chin as he kisses her cheek. That it allows him to also follow her gaze towards the man near the staircase is by no coincidence. "Mm. Wonder if there's a surcharge. Shall we go see, my temptress?" It seems he's given up waiting on their drinks in favor of something far more interesting. R'hin in that initial moment - for his words - get Jo's study, the woman seeming to take what he says in before he's leaning towards her and is kissing her cheek. Her chin lifts towards him as her gaze sweeps from his face towards the bulky man, the offer for provoking trouble getting a wry, "Do ya even have to ask me anymore? We should already be over there." Fingers spread and feather his arm lightly as she passes him that wicked smile full of promises for both him and anyone that crosses their path when they both are in the state of the prowl. A low-throated laugh soon follows, concession on R'hin's behalf to Jo's wry rebuke. "Indeed we should," he allows, that touch making him rise to his feet, reaching out to slip a familiar arm around the bluerider's waist as they approach the muscled man. His posture changes by measures, marginally gaining a heavier, shuffling pace, like he's had a bit too much to drink. "'ey, you," he's pointing wildly with his free hand, focusing (eventually) on the muscled man as they reach the bottom of the stairs. "We're here to," he pauses, hiccups, and looks at Jo, like he can't quite remember. Rising to her booted feet, Jo is drawn to the arm around R'hin's waist as she easily plays the part of the coquette. She laughs a little louder and a little bit more feminine to his words as though it were meant to be a joke, and when R'hin's posture shifts, so does hers: she slumps up against him, effectively acting as his crutch with loose muscles in the way she sways her hips. She lets him lead the way, only making eyes at the bulky man and giving him a measured study that suggests what she finds at the end of it is pleasing to her eyes. When R'hin's looks to her for his stilted remark, "We're meetin' someone up there, darlin'," she finishes it, her smile warm, bubbly and inviting. "'N my love, here, has had a bit too much to drink, so we need to make this quick." "Oh, oh yeah. Meetin' someone. That's right," R'hin gives a hearty chuckle, while squeezing him arm tighter around Jo for a moment, "I don't mind it quick now and then, am I right brother?" He turns slightly drunken, knowing gaze on the muscled man for a moment, who seems to be more distracted looking at Jo than listening to the bronzerider's words. He doesn't seem to care that much, except: "Quarter mark, brother." R'hin scoffs in turn, mutters something about extortion, but after fumbling in his pocket, finally comes up with the requested mark piece. After the muscled man's secured it away, he steps aside, with a snort. The stairs are a short ascent, before the corridor turns sharply, putting them outside of the man's view. Despite that, the bronzerider continues to lean heavily on Jo, even as the muted noises of cheering can be heard from one of the rooms ahead to the left. Jo keeps the bulky man's gaze lingering on her if she can help it, her smile more demure once a price is given. She watches the exchange with open curiosity before the man moves aside for them. "Ya really should'n have drank so much, love," she simpers out to R'hin as they pass by the man, going up the stairs. "What would Auntie Mel think?" It's for anyone's benefit that would be paying them attention, really, the convict rider giving R'hin a look as they near the noisy room up ahead of them. Either R'hin's keeping well in character, too, or there's something else, though his expression doesn't betray either way. "That life's too short to worry about such things," he replies after a moment, visibly distracted by the sound. As they stop in front of the door, he straightens, his weight easing off her, rolling his shoulders, as he lifts a hand as if to knock, pausing to look at the not-very-sturdy door, then at Jo, with a sudden grin. He backs up a step, only a slight weave as he rushes forward, throwing his shoulder into it. The door flexes a moment then pops loose from the not-overly-impressive lock, flinging open. Within, the room goes abruptly quiet. There's a group of five sitting around a table with a well-dressed dealer, cards and marks scattered atop it. Two bigger men, obviously guards, also occupy the small room, one near a chest at the back of the room, the nearer one already rushing towards them. "My kind of aunt," is what Jo can get out before R'hin is straightening away and she drops her role in favor of her usual demeanor. Hand straying to the hilt of her knife, she meets his gaze before the door gets her study. When R'hin shoulder-slams the door open, suddenly the knife is firm in her hand by her side as she quickly takes stock of those in the room. She notices the rushing guard last, and before he rushes out of the room, the bluerider rushes in as if to meet him halfway. The instant Jo rushes in with her knife visible, there's panic in the room. The occupants of the table, almost to a one, make a mad grab for the marks on the table, shoving each other to try and get more. The most aggressive is a man in his early thirties, dressed in lordly finery, pushing aside the middle-aged woman next to him and scooping up her marks. The rushing guard, meanwhile, immediately focuses on Jo and her knife, reaching for one of his own, trying to use the greater weight of his bulk to give power to the thrust of knife he makes in her direction. The other guard doesn't move forward, but sticks to his position in front of the chest, eyeing all of them balefully, a gleam of metal in his hand, too. R'hin, for his part, is busy swearing, rolling his shoulder, then focuses on the lordling. "We just want him," which seems like cause for the other patrons to go rushing out of the door. When the people in the room scramble for their marks, Jo makes a swift, negative shake of her head at the rushing guard before she grates out to him, "Back down." He rather than the rest in the room has her attention, trying to block off any attempts of his barreling into both her and R'hin. "Ain' here for a fight," she says low, "but I ain' gonna back down from one, either." She only briefly eyes the position of the other guard, making sure that he stays put where he is. The slight turn of her head suggests she's trying to keep R'hin in her gaze as well, trying to angle her body from the door when he addresses those scrambling at the table. The guard over by the chest narrows his gaze. "Bren," he calls, sharply, and the bigger guard pulls up, still glaring at Jo. "Come over here and get the chest." It seems they're content to let be, given the givens. With Bren safely tucking the chest under his arm, he proceeds the other guard with a darted look at Jo, the other -- still nameless one -- giving the pair a nod as they pass, like it's purely a business transaction. Perhaps, for them, it is. The room's relatively quiet after, other than the sound of marks dropping to the table as the only man left at the table stares at the pair of them. "What the fuck do you want?" With a grin -- that forms a thanks as well to Jo -- R'hin seeks to kick the door shut. "Albret. Take a seat. My very lovely, and very deadly," another grin Jo's way, "Friend and I wish to have a little chat, is all. You might even keep the marks." Albret glances from one to the other, tensing like he's considering a different option. Jo remains where she is, her focus on the guards in the room. Her eyes narrow at the one closest to her, watching as they move off with the chest. Once it's just them remaining, her and R'hin with the lordling, Jo drops the hand holding the knife to her side and sets herself to guarding the door. She returns the grin brief to the bronzerider before the lordling gets her intense study, the blade tapping idly against her loose pants. When the lordling tenses up as if he's considering another option other than the one R'hin's laying out for him, she speaks up with, "Yer better off just sittin' down'n listenin' to what he has to say, darlin'. All other roads lead to blood." Lips curve at the very last thought - as if the woman was hoping the man chooses that very option. There's enough sincerity in Jo's voice, in the way she holds herself, that Albret seems to concede, dropping into his seat. "I don't know what you could possibly want from me. I have no marks." R'hin, nodding to Jo, moves towards the table, taking up a position on the dealer's side. "I know," he says, reaching into a pocket. "In fact," as he drops a slip of hide onto the table. Then a second, then a third, then a fourth. With each, Albret goes whiter. "I hear there's a fifth marker, but I haven't been able to obtain it... yet. But I figure these are enough for you to know I'm serious." Albret, still white, nods wordlessly. "You, my friend," R'hin continues, "Are at Monaco, and at a certain Weyrleader's side, often enough to be of value to me. I want you to take notes, in your head. Where he's gone, who he's seen, where he will be next. If I'm not happy with the answers," he taps the hides, "One or more of these will get sold to some very unforgiving people. More unforgiving than my lovely companion here." He doesn't gesture to Jo, but he grins all the same, as if he can picture her expression, the one that Albret undoubtedly sees when he glances towards the bluerider. Once Albret gets the hint, Jo moves to try and close the door if it can be before she steps a little closer towards R'hin. The whole time, her knife remains in her hand, seeming to be waiting for any sort of trouble to come bursting through that door. She doesn't take a seat, seeming to take up the role of guard as her attention strays between what noises she can hear outside the room and the conversation going on right here within it. If the conversation's content is drawing particular interest to the convict rider, it's not registering on her features. When R'hin directs the last to her, the smile is a cold one as she states, "I doubt any of them would be more unforgivin' than me, darlin'," she states, her head tilting just a bit as her gaze settles on Albert. "I think he'n I could have some fun." Yeah, somehow 'fun' doesn't sound all that fun, the way she says it since the coquettish smile doesn't reach her eyes. Albret swallows, quickly looking away from Jo, visibly sweating as his gaze shifts to the markers. "I understand." R'hin nods, pleased, reaching for each of the markers, stacking them up into a neat pile before tucking them away. "Good. I'll have someone visit you in a seven with some further instructions." He passes a hand over his eyes and, abruptly, sinks into the dealer's chair. "Get out of here," he says, sharply, as Albret swiftly stands, hesitates a moment, and snatches at a couple of the remaining marks, before hurrying towards the door, slowed only by Jo's presence, clearly respectful of her knife, as he edges towards the door, attempting to flee at the first opportunity. When Albret comes to pass by her, the woman doesn't move out of his way right away. Jo smiles, her blade still tap-tapping away against her pants as if restless while she watches him. Then, once she's had her fill of him sweating, she steps aside and lets him through. Once he's out of earshot, "I'd hate to be the Weyrleader," is her remark, walking backwards until her butt hits the edge of the table as she keeps her gaze on the entrance. "I also wonder what it's like when ya wanna make enemies," rather than friends, is what goes unspoken, her gaze turning to look at her over her shoulder with that smirk. There's a long, low sigh from the man seated at the table behind her, a hint of familiar laughter. "It's rather like living a perfectly normal life, thinking you're ok, until, wham," he slaps a fist against the table. "At least, that's how it is in my head." R'hin's chuckling, tipping his head up to gaze at Jo as she looks back his way. "You, my temptress," he pushes to his feet, leaning towards her, as he murmurs, "Play the part of the bad guy very convincingly indeed. If only I'd met you Turns earlier than I did. So," his eyes are on her, while his hand reaches out to trail up her back, "Business done. How should we entertain ourselves for the rest of the evening?" Smirking as she leans back with an arm propped against the table, "Sounds just like the life of a convict," Jo states to that first, laughter in her voice. She meets his gaze easily, his lean towards her along with those words drawing a wry "Turns of practice. Ain' so bad yerself." Her back moves to his touch as she considers his last, a brow lifting his way for only a few moments before she's off the table and turning towards him to curl one finger in a 'come to me' motion. "Guess those guards ain' comin' back," she murmurs, sounding almost disappointed. "Might as well take advantage of the warm atmosphere. I believe there's a waitress that owes us some fruity drinks with umbrellas in them. Whatever happes on the beach after that, we can blame on our impulsive natures." The bronzerider's low-throated chuckle is amused. "Win some, lose some." And of course, R'hin obeys when she beckons -- standing, moving closer in her wake, reaching for Jo and not too disappointed if she keeps out of reach, as long as she's still leading him on. "Mm. I believe there's a nice patch of beach just near the jungle. We could set up a whole row of umbrellas from our drinks. Of course, that means bearing the burden of drinking all of those drinks...?" his brows rise, challengingly. Of course Jo slips out of reach when R'hin reaches for her, laughing as she heads for the door. "Ya won most this day," she notes in her amusement, leading him out as she nods toward his proposal. "It's gonna be a tough challenge," she says on drinking all of those drinks, shaking her head head. "Hope ya can keep up. Ya've got a long night ahead of ya." She'll meet his challenge, head on and with a smile. "Today's a good day," R'hin agrees, making a noise of frustration, deliberately audible for her to catch as she shies away from his grasp, following her down the corridor. "You're going to make me work for it. I'm old you know. Older, even. Lucky for you, I'm used to long nights." The noise of the tavern beneath becomes audible as they reach the stairs, the crowd having grown in the time they were away, sufficient enough to swallow them up in anonymity for the night. |
Comments
Alida (02:30, 19 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Makin' a move... ^^
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