Logs:They Both Like Her
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| RL Date: 18 December, 2015 |
| Who: T'gar, C'ris |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: C'ris and T'gar both like Quinlys, but C'ris has won for now? |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions |
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The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former
weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its
convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from
the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor,
and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick
and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth
tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a
low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery
and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light
colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm
autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter
the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools
stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window
to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear
view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light
of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. It's not too busy at the bar at this time of the early evening. Not yet. However, T'gar is here with a single mug of something amber colored and a short stack of notes which must have something to do with wings. Either way, it has most of his attention as he peers over at the top, his writing stylus on the side momentarily forgotten. That T'gar is alone likely makes this easier, or perhaps C'ris has waited to find him so. He doesn't hesitate much as he carefully navigates tables and what crowd there is so early to make his way to the weyrling's table. He clears his throat, greeting, "Hey there, T'gar. Do you, uh, have a second?" The bluerider pairs it with a friendly smile, because of course he does. When C'ris arrives, T'gar looks up in time to catch that smile and the question. Leaning back from his studying, he gestures for the man to seat himself at the table as he says, "Take two," he says, blue eyes lit with a hint of curiosity. "What's going on, sir?" Surprisingly, it's over taking a seat that C'ris hesitates, finally claiming it after a second, then two. "Well, I, uhm-- You can call me C'ris, you know. I'm not working with you weyrlings and even when I was, it wasn't like I was a true assistant or anything," he points out lightly, another smile punctuating his words on habit. "I'm not really the sir type, anyways." "I thought we had to call everybody sirs and ma'ams," T'gar, a brow lifting at him before a shrug is to follow and he picks up the writing stylus to tuck right above his left ear. "Alright then. C'ris," he says, as if trying on the name for size. "What's going on?" "I think it's better safe than sorry but I asked you to, so--." But then T'gar is using his name, so that line of conversation is thoroughly extinguished. Again, C'ris hesitates, struggling with his words before he finally settles on: "I wanted to let you know that Quinlys and I are-- dating, I guess. Making a go of it. And not that she's mine, but I would appreciate if you--." He trails off there, uncertain what exactly he would like T'gar to do. "Don't worry about it," T'gar is all easy in manner, the smile not quite there more than felt. Then once the bluerider announces his intentions, the bronze weyrling - for a moment - just stares him down. "You're dating, but she's not yours," he's slow to say, his blue eyes boring into the man now. "You appreciate that I, what?" As if he doesn't know. "Stop trying to get her into bed," mumbles C'ris, almost apologetic. "Her words, or yours?" is Rat's counter, not letting up on the staring. "I-- What?" C'ris certainly isn't good at this, because now he seems vaguely confused by the question. He clarifies, "No, she just said that you, uh, had a thing for her or whatever." T'gar's muscled arms fold across his chest, and they flex - just a bit. Brows furrow as he takes in C'ris's confusion, and he adds, "Is that what Quinlys thinks that I'm trying to do? Toss her into bed? Or is that what you think?" But he answers, and the weyrling nods once before admitting, "I do. I like her. A lot. It isn't all about me trying to bed her, either." There is something apologetic in C'ris' tone as he answers, "I think-- She thinks that she is better just sleeping with someone than having anything more. She said it was flirting, a game." A pause, a moment of his expression drawing into a sad kind of smile at the weyrling's admittance. He adds carefully, "I like her a lot, too." Rat watches C'ris, his expression being searched by those blue eyes. His head inclining faintly as he lets the man speak his last in silence, "I'm a game," is what he picks out, his tone carefully neutral before eyeing that sad kind of smile. Nodding, "I've seen you around the classes," he decides to say now. "A good sort. Always have a smile on hand, don't you? People respond to that. And, she chose you." There's a helpless enough shrug to follow. C'ris' shrug is helpless to match as well, his expression like an open book. There's pity there and empathy for the other man, so easily felt by the bluerider. "I went after what I wanted. I wouldn't have given up until she agreed to try," he admits. "Not that-- She's still not sure. She's trying but. She's never done this before and I don't want less than a real relationship." He catches himself at the spilling of words, wincing in an apology as he does and shutting up, finally. "I don't want your pity," T'gar is quick to watch that in the man's face. "We both went after who we wanted. You just happen to have won. Thanks for the honesty, though, man." He eyes his mug before draining it all the way down, setting it down. "Right, sorry-- I didn't mean to say--." C'ris' lips pull into the hint of a frown, just that as he falls into an awkward silence. But after T'gar finishes that drink, he offers, "Can I buy you a beer? Another one of those?" T'gar doesn't help him out of the awkward silence, his stare heavy in answer to his words. To offer, there's a single shake of his head as he reaches for his notes, the smile tight as he answers back, "I think I'm done. It's been sufficiently awkward enough, right?" and he gestures between the two of them as he stands with his notes. Once he's to his full height as he looks C'ris' way, there's a pause and then, "Take care of her, C'ris. Because if you don't, I will." Beat. "If she lets me." "I will," promises C'ris easily enough to the warning/request. He doesn't rise when the weyrling does, instead offering back his own smile, genuine even now if still awkward. "You take care of yourself, too, T'gar. And-- Congratulations on your weyr." There's a soft enough snort to it all before T'gar nods and takes his wordless leave, passing another familiar nod of farewell towards the bartenders on his way out. |
Comments
Roz (17:54, 18 December 2015 (PST)) said...
Quinlys (17:57, 18 December 2015 (PST)) said...
D: D: D:
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