Logs:Fair Distractions
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| RL Date: 19 December, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, Quint |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quint runs into Jo while inquiring about a runner. |
| Where: Stables, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Mielline/Mentions, Odrick/Mentions |
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Stables, High Reaches Weyr Taking advantage of a natural overhang in the side of the mountain for its roof, this building boasts sturdy stone construction braced by beams of tough-as-nails skybroom. Just inside a pair of broad doors, the ceiling rises a full two stories high for the full length and half the width of the building. Beneath the overhang, wide windows admit light and more fresh air, while opposite is the second-story hayloft. The stables' main focus, however, is the double rows of stalls that line the walls below: one large stall serving as tack room, the rest housing a remarkable variety of beasts. (+views) At this time of the night, why would someone like Jo be in the stables? There's a couple of stablehands still about, finishing up the last of their tasks for the night. Jo steps out of a stall of one of the runners as one of them passes by, transferring the reins of the runner over to him with a brief, "I'm havin' someone come by to give him a proper check-up in the mornin'. Ya come get me after drills, alright?" The stablehand she stops nods and speaks his affirmation before moving into the stall. It's certainly too late to be seeking a runner to go out riding with, and yet Quintus steps into the stables, pausing in the entrance. For once, he's not wearing harper blue, looking almost casual by comparison in a plain white shirt. The murmur of voices draws his gaze in the direction of the stablehand and rider, brow twitching in mute surprise as he recognizes the bluerider. Not one to be accused of sneaking, he clears his throat in a subtle indicator of his presence, nodding to Jo. "Evening. I didn't know you rode," he says, pausing, and correcting, "Runners." Jo watches the stablehand as he settles the runner down before that clearing of throat turns her in Quint's direction and lets that glint of recognition darken her gaze. One corner of her mouth lifting as she passes one more look back at the runner pair before leaving them for the harper, "I'll ride anythin'," is her not-quite innocent-sounding answer to that. "Use to ride runners all the time, before I Impressed. Evenin', Quint." She takes in his clothes before adding, "Late to be wantin' ride out, darlin'." It'd be hard for a harper to miss the innuendo, and yet Quint treats the words at face value, with barely a twitch of reaction. His, "I wasn't aware you were so experienced," is bland enough to be innocent, except for the slight tip of head. "Perhaps you can suggest a runner or two -- I wanted to -- arrange a runner for my sister, for tomorrow. She's just got in, from Boll, and she's... she used to love riding runners. We spent a summer at Keroon when we were young, and did nothing but." There's something fondly reminiscent in his tone, moving closer to where he can observe the stabled runners from. "Then perhaps I should be relieved that yer not a man of gossip," Jo answers, matching his tone in pitch. "Ya would've known my reputation isn' so stellar, otherwise." She turns on runners, hands digging into the pockets of her dark jacket as she looks down the hall of each stall. "The one on the end is one I've just gotten in from a favor," she tells him. "Still decidin' if I wanna sell'im off or not. Used to." She looks his way then with a slight frown. "She doesn' ride anymore?" "I've heard plenty of your reptuation. And yet I've found over the Turns that gossip serves to lead one to the truth, but it is rarely the truth." Quint's gaze flickers towards the bluerider, and then as she directs his attention, towards the runner she indicates, with a contemplative gaze. "If you're willing to let Gizzy ride him tomorrow -- I might take him off your hands, if they get on well enough." Something in his expression tightens, marginally, though his voice remains a well-practiced even note. "She was busy. She took to boating. She had... much to keep her occupied, until recently. Her fiance. Her mother." Which would be his mother, too. "Now that she's away from Boll, seems best to distract her with things not associated with that life." "Some of it's valid," Jo states on her reputation matter-of-factly, not looking apologetic about it. She meets that gaze before it's drawn back to the stalls, gesturing towards the one still open with the stablehand inside as she says, "Gizzy, huh? Depends on when ya need him. I'm havin' him checked in the mornin'. If he passes, he'll be ready to ride." When Quint answers on the latter she regards him steadily as he speaks in silence. In the end, "The plague?" she asks quietly. Soberly. If Quint seems surprised or unsettled by her admission, it doesn't show in the brief, acknowledging nod he gives, gaze not leaving the runner. "Gisele," the harper corrects, after a moment. "I just -- old nickname." A beat, and he adds, "Lunchtime, then?" Her latter question earns a wordless nod of confirmation, though there's a slight tensing of jaw. "I was makin' the assumption that ya were an only child," Jo says, watching Quint more now with her sharp gaze. Her silence is marked as she lets him speak, nodding barely when he confirms about his family. "Sorry, darlin'," she gives in a bare grunt, watching that jaw tense. "This is good, what yer doin' for yer sister. It should be ready by lunchtime. He's not an aggressive runner from what I've been told, but he makes up for that in endurance. Ridin' with her?" Quint fails to respond to Jo's first comment, instead resting a hand on one of the stall doors. "It is what it is," is his response to her sympathy, though after a beat, he adds, "Thank you." Clearly he's not the sort to wear his emotions out on his sleeve -- neutral expression well-practiced enough to cover all but a slight tightening of fingers against the wooden door of the stall. "If I can convinced Odrick to take two classes, yes. She's insisting she doesn't need to be baby sat but -- she doesn't know the area at all." Now, he grimaces. There's a nod from Jo for Quint's thanks and her gaze lingers a little longer before she turns back towards the stall as she answers him, "Likely a good idea, goin' with her. I take it she's younger than ya?" She steps to the stall just before the open one and lightly taps it with a nail before adding, "In case mine doesn' work out, this one in here should do. I ride this one when I can. She's seasoned." Looking at Quint, "Speakin' on classes," she adds then, "how's it holdin' up here? Reckon ya stay busy. Haven' seen ya 'bout, ya harpers." "Four Turns. Though you wouldn't think it, the way she tries to boss me around," there's a fond exasperation in Quint's distracted gaze, only brought back to Jo's when she steps to the next stall. He steps over, examining the horseflesh dutifully, though the sharp-eyed might well notice it's more for show than attentive perusal. Still, her question about classes earns a flickered, habitual smile. "It fares well enough. It isn't an easy thing, distracting folk from the less pleasant aspects of the world. I imagine it was infinitely harder -- and more appreciative for all that -- during Fall." "'N ya don' mind it one bit," Jo observes, the lopsided grin appearing as she watches him look into the stall. "One of my brothers is even-keeled like ya. Would be the only one outta the lot to dote on me before I left." Beat. "The same could be said in wings," she relates on distractions with a single nod. "A lot of wingriders got affected by events of late. Havin' this knot." "Don't you dare let her even get a hint of that," Quint warns with a cluck of his tongue, although he's not so strong on the intimidation factor, even pretend intimidation. "Mm. A distraction would be welcome. I'll think on it some, talk with the other harpers." Grinning, "Hmmmm, I think it would be interestin' to see ya angry," Jo muses, looking him over. The stablehand finally shuts the stall, nodding to both harper and wingsecond as he heads out. "I could drop a note on the floor'n have her notice it, detailin' ways to get her brother to do anythin' she wants." It's an open tease at most, the woman tapping the stall door before moving away. She nods to him on the last before stating, "I know Mielline likely wouldn' mind. Have you yerself had any distraction? 'Sides teachin'n lookin' after yer family." And the stablehand, in turn, receives a nod from the harper, who turns away from contemplation of the runner. "I don't think interesting is the word I would use," is all Quint says, blandly, though he gives her a look at her threat regarding his sister. His expression relents, a moment later, and with ease, admits: "Teaching is my distraction. I find it soothing." Which answers her question pretty clearly. "What word would it be?" Jo is all curiosity, her smile lingering. "I should meet this sister of yers." On distraction, she leans back against a stall as she echoes, "Soothin'. Nah, there's gotta be other things ya like to do that's not related to yer post, darlin'. Ridin', runnin', dancin', cards....drinkin', sex, talkin' to plants..." With an easy shake of head, Quint feints off an answer, instead muttering: "You and my sister together would... be a sight to see," is as diplomatic as he can get. Her list earns an increasingly wry sort of expression from the harper. "I'll be riding tomorrow," he says, without a trace of defensiveness. "And I haven't yet gone so crazy as to talk to plants. But I'll see about the others. Maybe I'll buy you a drink while we negotiate a price for your runner." "I'm a sight to see regardless," Jo is bold enough to answer with a slight lift of her chin. "She sounds like she could use some friends. You, too." She snorts on Quint's defense as she shakes her head and answers, "Mmmhmm. Just tomorrow. Right. I think I'm 'spose to be the one to buy ya a drink, last I remember, darlin'. Once she rides it finds it worth it, we can certainly talk of price then. 'Least when it comes to business, I'm a fair girl." "That'd good to know," Quint allows, of her being fair in business, as much as -- presumably -- not in other areas. "Likely as not. She's new, though -- she'll make them soon enough." A beat, conveniently avoiding her discussion of his own status: "Drinks, then," sometime, anyway. And as he pushes away from the stall, "Thanks," is murmured, before he starts for the exit. "Anytime," Jo says pleasantly enough, nodding on the topic of drinks and runner business as Quint takes his leave. "Don' be a stranger." She doesn't leave just yet, lingering behind to mete out a few more instructions on the runner before she herself can go. |
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