Logs:Not A Girl
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 15 July, 2016 |
| Who: Drex, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Drex wants to know why Jo hasn't been visiting Farideh. Jo (in her way) makes a proposition. |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 4, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Vulgar language. What can you expect with these two...? |
  |
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
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 a busy night in the Snowasis that finds Jo at the bar counter with her mug. Several Snowdrift riders are at the card tables while Glacier riders can be seen at the darts. It's almost a wistful look seen from the wingsecond towards the darts, but the woman stays put watching over her wingmates as she drinks alone. There's a few spaces empty - just vacated - on both sides of her as weyrfolks mingle about in animated talks about the past latest gold flight. The talk of gold flights doesn't much interest Drex; in fact, he grunts and rolls his eyes at the gossip he can hear as he plods in from outside, coat dusted in snow. He doesn't notice that it's the familiar figure of the bluerider he stumps up next to; he just drops onto the stool, trying futilely to get the bartender's attention with a face and a grunt. He may not notice her when he flops down beside her, but Jo well recognizes Drex. She eyes him from her stool as she drink, turning slightly in his direction as she watches him try to hail down a bartender. She lets him try on his own for awhile in silence before she speaks up with, "I do believe ya need words to catch one of'em." At the same time, she's lifting two fingers to try and flag one down herself before adding, "A mo'," aloud. There's a snort at first from Drex in response to the suggestion, then after a few more futile attempts, when her call gets some response, Drex scowlingly calls, "Beer down this way." Anyone else might be grateful, but the sailor knows that voice, and so all Jo gets is a sidelong look. "Pleased with yourself, eh?" "Beer," Jo echoes the word to the bartender that comes, nodding towards Drex before the man is off again. "Pleased? What for?" she sends this to the sailor with a raised brow as she dons her mug. "Don't rightly know," Drex says, with a dismissive shake of head. "Knowing stuff. Being right." Pick one, his expression seems to imply. His gaze flickers to watch the bartender pour his beer, falling briefly silent. "Aint seen you about the weyr much," his emphasis is subtle, but made more obvious by his next words: "Fari don't get around much these days. They say it'll only be a few sevens till she gives birth. Probably could use a... a girl, or somethin'." The words are reluctant, but they come all the same. Jo's lips parts as if to say something - to pick one - but there's a pregnant pause from her that gets swallowed up by the ale. Instead, her heavy gaze studies Drex from where she sits in silence while doing so. His notice of her absense gets a light snort in the silence. Then, "Ya mean, ya miss me makin' eyes at yer girl, is that it?" she questions, a touch wry in a tease. "Mm. Thought I'd give ya both a break. Got things need tendin' to." Pause. "Heard ya knocked her up again," she adds now, less wry. "A girl." That last earning him a look to suggest he could elaborate if he wanted. Drex's scowl deepens, if that's possible. "Don't want you making anything at my girl, but she likes your company." So he'll tolerate it, though not without the passive aggressive comments. He shows a distinct lack of curiosity about what's kept Jo busy, consistent in that at least. It seems he doesn't care to elaborate, and when his beer finally comes, he lifts it with what seems like relish to his lips, drinking deeply. "She has you, don' she?" Jo returns that on company, letting an idle finger trace her own bottom lip as she regards him. "With me, ya can't have one without the other, darlin'," she goes on to educate him. "My company comes loaded. Eventually, darlin', she'll grow sick of me'n my games, just like another weyrwoman has." Dark eyes turn from him then drain her mug and set it down, only to have another set down in its place by a passing bartender. "I aint a girl," Drex says, because apparently he needs to point it out. To her other words, he gives a bemused shake of his head. "Aint even gonna pretend like I know the fuck yer talking about. Just... go and fuckin' do girl stuff, all right?" He looks somewhat disgruntled that Jo's mug is refilled so adroitly. "I ain' much a girl, either," Jo is quick to point out. "Have ya seen me braid her hair? Play dress-up? Tsk," with a loud click of her tongue. "Be careful what ya wish for, Drex." It seems the only warning the bluerider gives, and she drinks some from the new mug before she adds, off-handedly, "We haven' fought yet, us. Yer any good with yer fists?" "You got a pussy aint ya?" Drex kind of sideyes Jo like he's not entirely sure that's a given. "Itsy weren't much into that stuff either... mostly, but she was still a girl." Except for the parts where he forgot about that. He doesn't look particularly pleased at her warning, but all the same doesn't retract the request, instead attempting to drown his sorrows in the bottom of his mug. He gives her a flat look that seems to imply he thinks the answer is obvious. What he asks though, is a suspicious, "Why the fuck do ya need to know that? Gonna send someone to beat me up while you take my girl?" Jo can't help that snicker when Drex questions her lady-parts. "Last time I checked, we ain' goin' 'round, dressin' up our 'pussies', either," is her bald return. "Who's Itsy? She single?" Another drink before addressing Drex with an even, "I'll stop by'n check on her. Make sure yer treatin' her all right, right?" That last has the bluerider throwing an incredulous look his way before she asks, "Were ya born lookin' for tunnelsnakes in every corner, eh? Yer more ornery than I am, 'n I thought I was the worse than the lot." Shaking her head, "I like sparrin' every now 'n then," she explains briskly. "Blows off some steam when there's no one to fuck. Could be fun." If Drex's reaction to Jo's interest in Farideh is a deep scowl, his reaction to her interest in Itsy is positively ferocious by comparison: "No one you want to fuckin' know," is his growled response, setting the mug down with a bit more force than needed. It's the latter that makes him look at the bluerider again, disbelievingly. "Aint gonna fight no girl." Brows lift at the passionate response on Itsy. Eyeing that mug he sets down strongly, "She yer girl, too?" Jo guesses lightly. "Interestin'. Hardly fair, but interestin'." Beat. "Like I said, I'm hardly a girl. I'm pretty sure I could win a sparrin' match over ya. I've taken down men bigger. Still. I'm fast. I have a good swing. I won' rely on my nails'n hair-pullin' like some girl would," she goes on, listing her qualities. "'N, I'll draw blood. 'Course, yer assumin' ya can land anythin' on me. I can understand the mistake." Her drink is lifted to her lips and then she looks his way before she asks, "I ain' lookin' to fight. I'm lookin' to spar. There's a difference." Drex's jaw tightens as he struggles to resist the bait. "She aint no one," he insists, forcefully. The sailor's attempts to get more beer fall flat, and he scowls through Jo's words. "Aint gonna fight you, or spar you, or fuck you." Drex is pretty clear on all of these things. "More," Jo calls for the nearest bartender, gesturing over towards Drex. "She sounds like someone by the way yer actin'," she lets the sailor know with a slight shrug. But it's the latter that she falls silent on for the most part, the sailor getting her attention with just the hint of disappointment at his refusal of her offer. It's there and gone with a more prominent shrug and a return to the contents of her mug as she says to it, "As ya say." There might be a marginal, grudging amount of appreciation for Jo's ability to summon bartenders that bring him beer, if nothing else. So it's probably why he doesn't snap at her this time, and perhaps even why, after a long grudging silence when his mug is refilled, he says, "If ya cheer Fari up, and keep yer hands off her, I'll go a few rounds." Jo lets the silence linger as she lingers on her ale, the card tables getting back her earlier attentions before Drex draws her from them with his words. Whether it's unexpected or not, it's hard to tell from her face. Breezily, "I'll cheer her up'n get a round'n a half off ya." Making deals. "No sex," comes Drex's immediate counter-offer. "Not even flight sex?" Jo's lips press together at that. "Mm. A kiss'n a grope'n ya gotta deal." It's hard to tell if she's really joking or not with her tone so flat. Even if she is joking, Drex is taking it seriously. "You could have anyone in the Weyr you crooked yer finger at. Not her." And, after a moment -- a moment in which he washes down a gulp or two of beer, he concedes, "A grope and a kiss, if she wants it." "Not true," Jo quick to deny - and this time, there's a note of seriousness in her tone. "Not true at all." Nodding once, "If she wants it. As ya say." She concedes to that soberly, draining the last of her mug before setting it down. "If she's not mad at me for not bein' 'round, I'll see to her soon," she tells him, straightening off her stool. Drex doesn't look convinced, but neither does he feel strongly enough to contradict her. He grunts in what seems to be assent, face buried in his mug, not even looking when she makes to stand. Jo drops marks on the counter when a bartender arrives to take her mug away, and she gestures towards Drex as she says, "Tend'im the rest of the night. Anythin' he needs. 'M closin' out." He nods while collecting the payment and she turns towards the sailor before she makes her exit. "I'd tell ya not to drink so much, but, ya don' need to hear that one. 'Til then, darlin'." For a moment, Drex looks like he might protest Jo paying his bill. Just for a moment, and then he shrugs, and nods to the bartender to refill his mug. Free beer is free beer, after all. |
Leave A Comment