Logs:The Claiming of Things
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| RL Date: 19 February, 2016 |
| Who: Drex, Farideh, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Drex claims all the things. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 1, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
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With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. What's been a cold, snowing day has turned into a frigid night, and the warmth of the nighthearth has drawn more than a few people seeking a quiet place to relax before bedtime. Of course, some of that quiet might be disturbed by the snoring from a certain quasi-pirate, Drex having claimed the couch that's been positioned in prime placement in front of the hearth. He's stretched out across its length, his feet hanging over the edge, mouth half open and what looks like a bit of drool coming out one side. With the weather keeping some people indoors for the night, perhaps it's no surprise that Jo arrives with something steaming in her bowl and a flask on hand as she pauses on the threshold. She eyes the remaining seats before choosing to claim a spot on the couch occupied by Drex. She eyes her for a moment before sitting down in the space found, and her hand just happens to swipe at his leg as if to wake him before turning to her dinner. Drex's body jerks in reaction to the movement, eyes snapping open, confusion in his gaze and the beginnings of a curse already falling from his lips: "What in fish's titties are you--" his gaze narrows as he sees who it is, familiar scowl deepening into his expression. "This is my couch," he says, leaning back to swing his feet back into place. Nevermind that'll be on Jo's lap, or where her food is, or just generally interruptive. That's the whole point. When Drex jerks awake, Jo smirks just a tad as she eats. She meets his gaze in time to hear his words, and the feet landing on her lap only get a cursory glance. Luckily the bowl is held just above his legs. "Ya have a couch back in Farideh's place," she notes idly with a flick of her brows. "Which, I find amusin' that yer here, snoozin'. Does she put ya out all the time?" Yeah, she's making assumptions baldly. "Fari has a couch in her weyr. This is mine," Drex allows. Because he's claimed it, obvs. And even if his stretching doesn't have quite the desired effect of forcing the bluerider to leave, he's not about to concede her win by allowing her the space. While he's legs are there, the couch is still his, after all. "Aint any of yer fuckin' business what she and I do." His gaze narrows. "Bet you'd like to hear all about it." "Not even the stables?" Jo considers that with a slight frown as she chews, brandishing her spoon around. She seems quite comfortable with Drex's legs in her lap. She must be an odd sort. As to business of theirs, there's a slow smile to that before she counters back, "I care much 'bout whether yer hurtin' her or not. Makin' her upset. So yeah, I'd like to hear all 'bout it. Ya should find a better couch in this Weyr." The bluerider's mention of stables just earns a flatly blank look from Drex, like he has no idea what she's on about, and doesn't care to ask, either. "Oh, so you appointed yourself her protector, like? Hoping she'll come cry into your arms when I'm a dick, huh?" He gives a disgusted snort. "Aint anything wrong with this one." You'n'I both know she adores ya to the ends of Pern'n back," Jo notes flatly, using the same tone Drex does as she takes a drink from her flask. "It's not me she wants. Ya should have more confidence in yer girl, darlin'." But protector? "Aye, ain' nothin' wrong with her havin' more'n one protector, is it? She is a weyrwoman." Beat. "Why sleep in public?" she asks now. "Got plenty of confidence in her. You, though?" Drex makes a disgusted sound that fairly well sums up his opinion on the bluerider. "She don't need yer protection," he scowls. His narrow-eyed gaze seems to be about the only answer she's going to get on the latter, at least until he counters, "Why the fuck not?" This time of night doesn't often see Farideh out in the caverns, or not lately at least. It just so happens that she shows her face at this particular moment, cruising through the nighthearth with one arm full of tidily-shuffled paperwork. She stops halfway into the room and stares-- really, what does one say to that view? "'Cuz I'm the sort that'll just force myself on her one day, is that it?" Jo counters without a beat, watching him. "Sorry to break that opinion of yers, darlin'. The only force I like is when they're wantin' me to go harder. Not when they're wantin' me to stop my advances. I'll leave that sort of play to the wily bronzeriders ya should be directin' yer ire towards rather than some pesky bluerider." Might be a good thing that she hasn't spotted Farideh yet? Sprawled lengthways across the couch as he is, Drex isn't fortunate enough to see Farideh either. He's too busy rolling his eyes at the response from Jo: "Yer over dramatic, even for a rider." His arms fold across his chest. "You should be fucking all those wily bronzeriders instead, keeping 'em away from my girl." The staring continues as they talk amongst themselves -- without seeing her! -- but as far as the subject of their conversation, she seems oblivious as she takes a step out of revelry, and one closer to the couch. "What are you two doing?" Farideh asks, warily, obviously expecting the worst. "Why?" Jo counters Drex, parrying his words with her own. "When I'd rather fuck her?" Yep, that's right on time for Farideh to catch when she steps up to them. Her gaze cuts from Drex to Farideh, not seeming the least bit flustered as she answers her first. "I wanted to sit here on this couch to eat my dinner'n yer Drex has decided that this is his bed away from home." Pause. "Ya eaten?" "That aint gonna fucking happen," Drex says, flatly and certain. His tone moderates to something marginally less aggressive at Farideh's arrival, though it doesn't dissolve the scowl. "She decided out of everywhere to possibly sit, she had to choose my couch," with a flat look at Jo, before gaze flickers back to Farideh, with a tip of head towards the bluerider, as if to say see? Those suspicious eyes flick back and forth between the pair, before narrowing in on Drex; he's the easier target, of course. "What do you mean your couch? We have plenty of perfectly useful couches in the weyr. It's for everyone to use," Farideh says, disapproving, but then she sighs and focuses on the bluerider. "Yes. Fortunately. It's late for dinner, yourself," is semi-curious. Why, Jo, why? And Drex gets another narrow-eyed look for good measure. "Perhaps," is what Jo answers to Drex's certainty, her tone non-commital. With the couch being the currently topic though, her lips briefly press together at Drex's explanation to Farideh before she chips in at her look, "Honestly, with the haphazard way he claims things'n'folks these days, I dunno what is're isn' his. Tomorrow I could walk into the bar'n have him claim one of the stools at the bar as his next." To Drex, "It's cold out'n this is the closest seat to the hearth." "It is mine," Drex retorts, immediately defensive. "I was sleeping here, weren't disturbing no one, and she," the sailor jerks an accusing thumb in Jo's direction, "Decided she had to sit there." He'll give a little shove of his foot to Jo's leg, just to remind her it really is his couch. He's not unaware of Farideh's narrow-eyed look, and it earns a defensive folding of arms across his chest, scowling. "You're right, Jo. You can't go around claiming random pieces of furniture. Do you like that couch? I'll get one brought up from the stores," is said with a scowl. "It's not as though you don't have all of the creature comforts anyone could want." Farideh might as well have both hands on her hips from the way she's eyeing Drex, but she's still got an arm around her paperwork. "We share, in Weyrs." Jo nearly glares at Drex at this point, but to Farideh first she says, "Have ya been well? Haven' been by in awhile..." as if the argument between weyrwoman and her mate was of little consequence to her. Drex does get a double helping of her near-glare, though. "Keep it up'n I might decide to follow ya around when I can and claim every place ya claim as yers," she notes to him. "Ya'll never see me comin'. I'll wait 'till ya get all nice'n comfortable, like tonight. Give ya a real reason to get pissed off at me." The flask lifts in a toast towards him before drinking. "Figures you'd take her side," Drex says darkly to Farideh, swinging his legs off his couch (and off Jo as a result), planting them firmly on the floor. "Take the fuckin' thing, then. It's obvious what you want," standing, he stares down at Jo. In clear violation of dating rule 241, Farideh glares at Drex and says, "Oh, quit having such a hissy fit and go find another couch to lie on. I've got things to do." She at least manages a short wave to Jo, and another glare at Drex. "Excuse me," and she's shuffling past them towards the kitchen and, presumably, the stores beyond. "I want to sit close to the hearth'n finish my dinner," Jo answers him, watching Drex once he gets up. Since Farideh does tell him off, she merely sends a grin the weyrwoman's way as her legs cross and she resituates herself on the couch in preparation of continuing her meal. There's a narrow-eyed look after the weyrwoman, with Drex turning scowling, blaming gaze onto Jo. And while she makes herself comfortable, he presses a foot against the bottom of the couch, and starts pushing, moving it away from the hearth. Meeting Drex's gaze, Jo is about to spoon some stew into her mouth when she stiffens up at him pushing at the couch. The spoon dropping into her stew, "I know what ya want," she states, her dark gaze sharp on him. It's enough to get her to uncross her legs on the escaped sigh and finally get back to her feet with her bowl and flask balanced in one hand. There's something satisfied in Drex's gaze. Maybe he can't have it, but she's relinquished the couch as well, and that seems good enough for the sailor. If he's curious about Jo's comment, it doesn't earn enough curiosity for him to ask; instead, he's turning to slouch his way out. Still standing, Jo merely just watches Drex - as if waiting to see what else he was going to to do. Her silence might be telling from a girl that usually likes to talk smack, but she seems content to watch him as he starts to head out. |
Comments
Roz (12:03, 23 February 2016 (PST)) said...
Can't.
Even.
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