Logs:Planned Accidents
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| RL Date: 26 August, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, Lanvec |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Crom Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo checks in with Lanvec regarding their plans for Greenfields and K'del. |
| Where: Dive Bar, Greenfields Hold |
| When: Day 23, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Averin/Mentions, Dov/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
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| That Jo is back in Greenfields this soon from her last trip would have the average patron thinking. She strides into the dive bar on an afternoon, heading past the tables without so much as looking at those there. Grathon gets a brief pause from her: "Lanvec's around?" to which the man affably nods towards the back where his office is situated. She slaps his bar counter as she goes past, making it to the back and towards the office in question. The afternoon's early enough that Lanvec's not in 'business' mode-- not in the more formal, traditional sense (such as these things go). He's got the lockbox out, yesterday's take being counted out with careful fingers, one small denomination piece after another. He glances up at the sound of footsteps-- the door is open-- and then, as Jo comes into view, offers her a nod. "Darlin'. Such a good girl, visiting your old uncle so often." Hanging about the door's edge, "I was in the area," Jo is easy in saying, letting herself in and dropping into her customary seat. "No one's lookin' for me durin' sweeps. I thought I'd stop on by, check on y'all. See how's plans comin' a long." She's looking around his office (isn't she always), as if expecting something new to jump out at her this time around as she play her fingers along the arms of the seat. "Are we on track?" she asks now, looking him in the face. "As much as we can be, being as we've no date to aim for," answers Lanvec, calmly. One of the marks clinks as it hits another in the pile; he steadies it with the back of one finger. "There's wheels, the wheels are turning, but the rest of it's up to you and yours, isn't it? Do we know when these events might need to play out?" Watching him with the marks, "I have someone," Jo announces, leaning back in her chair. "He owed me one from way back. From practically savin' his life. He doesn' want me fuckin' with the new life he's made, so, he's in. He's willin' to be our knife for us." As for when the events will happen, there's a disappointed shake of her head and a, "Nah. Soon. I don' see changes in any of the weyrwomen yet, but I've been hangin' around for when I do. I have folks from the caverns keepin' a distant eye on them both. The moment they'n I notice somethin's off with either of them's the time we're lookin' for to end yer problem here," and she nods outwards to indicate the hold - and the holder. "I'll have my guy in place by then. It'll be clean. None should be able to tie it to any of us." Lanvec's mild, "From what I've heard, neither is expected to rise for some time-- perhaps even turns. Can you assure me it'll be sooner than that?" is belied by the intensity of his interest, those eyes watching Jo with careful interest. "It's no use to me for this to linger on indefinitely." And yet, his nod is approving, fingertips rapping against the table and setting one of his careful piles into collapse. He rebuilds. "It has to be sooner than that," Jo seems adamant with a slight frown. "Maybe it'll take a turn for Farideh's, but not Irianke's. I'll bet marks that it's her whose dragon rises first. She'll become senior'n then, maybe she'll end up in my debt." It's a big maybe. "Even if they don' rise," she goes on to say with a shrewd look, "this problem we got here...it's still gotta go, right? We would want both to work out at the same time, but in case one comes way before the other, we need to be ready for either." Lanvec is silent for a time, watching that frown, and certainly noting that adamance. His nod, in the end, is slow. "That's true," he agrees. "And were you to assist with my issue, now, I would still be willing to assist you with yours, later... were it to work out that way. Your queens have until the end of the turn; after that, we'll need to get this done. My business can't wait indefinitely." Jo seems to be considering his words, nodding a few times at all said. Meeting his gaze, "So we're givin' this man 'till the end of the turn to live?" she asks, her tone neutral to a man's life hanging in the balance. "What if he ends up gettin' what he wants before then? We're out on our asses cuz of him?" She shakes her head to that, not liking that line of questioning coming from herself. "Ya need me'n mine to do anythin' til then, while we're stuck in this waitin' game?" she asks now, watching him. It's cold, but Lanvec doesn't hesitate in confirming it: a few months more for Greenfields' heir, and then, one way or another, he's done. "We'll try and keep him busy," is his answer. "And if you and yours can't help with that, we'll not turn it down. Turn his attention elsewhere, best we can. Perhaps," there's a glint of a smile, "Greenfields' fields might burn. Perhaps there's tragedy at home, things to distract." The slow smile from Jo has a slight chill to it as she states, "Serves him right for messin' with what's none of his concern." She nods on them helping out, hand lifting to run through her mess of black hair before she offers, "Dov. He's been bitin' to get outta the Weyr for awhile. Maybe some fresh air'n some field burnin' might do him some good. If that works for ya, I'll drop him off tomorrow'n make sure he's covered back at the Weyr in case anyone's come lookin' for him. Might be good to have one of us back here for a bit, anyway," she notes with an incline of her head. "In case anythin' pops off early'n I don' have my man in place in time. Dov's down for anythin'." "Mm," agrees Lanvec, not enthusiastically but certainly firmly. "Dov, then. Drop him by; we'll put him-- quietly--" There's a smile, there, "to work. It's harvest time; a little mayhem will do everyone some good." He leans back in his chair, chin lifted as he regards the bluerider in front of him. "I'll keep that in mind, should matters... escalate. And you'll keep me informed, should anything happen at the Weyr." Getting to her feet with a slap of her hands to her thighs, "Wish I had somethin' more concrete, darlin'," Jo says apologetically, "but those damn dragons have a mind of their own. If I could induce proddiness on one of them myself, I would. Just as well I didn' Impress bronze." Not that it was even possible, her being a woman. She nods on Dov, looking pleased. "I'll let him know. He'd be grateful. I'll keep ya informed through Mime," her firelizard, "make sure things are in place on my end. I don' wanna take up too much of yer time," she nods towards his desk where his marks are, stepping away from the chair. "Pity," is Lanvec's opinion on the subject of Jo's inability to control the proddy cycles of dragons, though mostly he just seems amused. "Mm. Plots and plans. I'll look forward to hearing from you." A nod. And yes: a smile, too, lingering merrily as he reaches once more towards the cashbox. Nodding as she heads for the door, "Until next time, Uncle." There's a small and quiet chuckle from Jo before she's gone, making her way back out the way she came with bantering words for Grathon and a mark piece tossed in his direction for looking out for her. Any rider from her wing wouldn't even know she was gone for that short visit, with her returning to sweeps at will. |
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