Logs:To The Wolves
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 2 February, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Z'ian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Z'ian stops by and Jo picks his head on the new Weyrleadership. His opinion is less than stellar on the whole matter. |
| Where: Jo's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 12, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Vienne/Mentions |
  |
| It's late at night that finds Jo just arriving in with all her black leathers fastened up and her helmet straps dangling from one hand. Running a hand through her wild hair, the convict rider tosses the drapery back to let herself inside her weyr while her blue Tacuseth settles himself with his wings folding neatly back. She drops into a chair pulled away from the table while she unfastens her jacket and pulls free sheets of hide from within to be looked over quickly - page by page. It's not a long span of time, but it's enough for some minutes to tick by before the rustle of wings and the sound of a heavier dragon than Tacuseth breaks the outside silence. Tsanth's claws drag against the stone, his soft sandy warble the polite announcement of their arrival to the blue. The inevitable thud of his rider's boots usher in Z'ian's presence. He pushes the thick curtain out of the way and half enters, peeking around for sight of Jo before he passes the rest of the way through. "Hey? Disturbing your late night reading?" In tradition of the erratic yet sort of routine dance they've settled into he pulls the requisite bottle out from inside of his jacket and hefts it up. Tacuseth rumbles his greeting, willing give up space for the larger dragon as he undoubtedly gives word to his rider within of the bronzepair's arrival. Jo remains in her chair looking over one of the hides in one hand when Z'ian half-enters, and perhaps she already knows it's him since she doesn't immediately look up at him from her reading. She does say though, "Perhaps lucky ya did not find me so prone on my bed for ya to straddle, like I found ya before." She flicks up a glance at him with one of her ever-ready smiles that could spell either trouble or knowing arrogance before the convict rider snaps the hides audibly shut. Chin lifting as her piercing gaze takes the man in, then that bottle he hefts with interest, "Ahh," and she leans forward, gesturing for him to enter. "Ya make a custom of me, comin' here with that. Come on in and share. I was just thinkin' about how much of a good drink I needed." Z'ian's lips twitch, pulling up at the corners. "Was there a chance you were going to be prone in bed? I could come back later." He jerks one thumb over his shoulder and shoots her a questioning look, full of mischief. When she gives him the typical smile, his own is there in answer, terribly crooked. He looks much better than the last time they saw each other, basically a complete turn around. There's a quick glance to her hides, but no spoken comment as he crosses the room and throws down into the chair across from her. "You started the custom, you know." He points out as he unscrews the cap, taking the first drink before passing it onto her. "Long night- again?" The 'again' gets tacked on, because really, it's pretty much always a long night. Jo greets that first one with rakish laughter. "Ah now. Such words from one that enjoys the game we play." She seems to be looking over his injuries with her eyes as she gets to her feet, right when he takes a seat across from her. "Ya look better," she even comments on it, "and so do I." The hand with the bruised knuckles lift to show that indeed, she has healed. She moves behind him towards the bed, lifting the lid of the press at the foot of it to drop the hides within as she states on customs, "Ya didn' seem to mind my stoppin' by unannounced," in a deadpan voice. Looking over her shoulder at him as the lid to the press drops shut, "I think ya like me comin' by. I think ya like comin' by here. Imagine, ya comin' by tonite and findin' me in a compromisin' position." She even seems amused by the thought as she returns to Z'ian and now takes the bottle and tips it back to her lips for a indulgent drink. Once she's done, "Always," she gives on long nights, dropping back into her seat. "Nothin' new for this girl." Pause. Looking towards the ledge as if she could see the dragons passed the thick drapery, "I trust yer delectable taste for fighting has ended?" she asks now, taking another drink before finally passing it back over. His eyes drop, glancing over her knuckles. "And it doesn't look like you've used them recently. Unless you've been hitting men with very soft, fat faces." Twisting in the chair, not to be nosy but just to track her as she moves around in the room, he throws one arm over the back of his seat. He narrows his eyes at her, even as his mouth is curving into a reluctant smile. "I think you know that's all true and that you like pointing it out to me." Z'ian's eyes flicker past her to the bed and his hand goes out to receive the bottle again. "And that depends on what sort of compromising position we're talking about. There's a couple I can think of with my very active imagination." He takes a longer swallow from the bottle, finger tracing the opening. "I think I'm done for now. My face finally settled back into the way it's supposed to look." Teasingly he adds on, "I don't typically make it a habit to allow my face to be a punching bag." "This seven, I could be a lover, not a fighter," Jo gives back breezily on that first score, the fingers of her healed knuckles playfully wiggling in a random pattern in the air before they drop down. Once settled in her seat, her legs cross and she sits back like she owned the whole world, slouching just a bit in her casual familiarity with Z'ian in her weyr. She smiles all the more to his words on her pointing things out on purpose, not refuting it, and when his gaze go to her made-up bed, "Compromisin' for me, means all sorts of things," she drawls on that, openly amused now with her gaze going back to the bronzerider. She lingers on active imaginations before she turns to the matter of fighting, studying his face before she says, "Need to get ya in a proper bar brawl, darlin'. I happen to know a few seedy places that'll throw ya down the moment ya walk in. Just say the word. I'll even throw in a punch or two with ya. I do owe the pretty Igen transfer one, Vienne, a little trip to one, too." Z'ian follows the path of her hands as she wiggles her fingers around in the air. He takes another long drink from the bottle before he puts it onto the table and slides it over towards her. Another smile crosses his face and one eyebrow arches up, "I'm sure that it does. Thus the active imagination." With her back around and in the other chair again, he shifts forward and drops an elbow down so he can lean his chin into his palm. Tiredly he stretches his long legs out onto her table. "Need to get me into a proper fight." He repeats, humorously skeptical of the idea. "Do you think I need my manliness validated? I'll go to seedy places and drink with you, but can we go to one that waits for you to get a drink first?" His fingers pause mid-rake when she mentions the Igen transfer, "Oh right, her. I saw her the other day in stores. She didn't have any clothes." There's a hitch and he clears his throat. "She didn't have any proper clothes. She was dressed when I saw her." Just to clarify. Once that bottle is slid towards her, Jo takes it up and briefly lifts those brows at him as she brings that bottle to her lips. "Mmhmm. Should I dare even ask what is goin' on in that head of yers, Zach?" Her smile is all kinds of bad and suggestive, before she takes a drink and then add in, "I won'. My thoughts are sure to be much, much worse. And as for manliness, don' need a fist match to prove that. There are other ways." Other ways much to her advantage, her gaze seems to say as she takes another drink before sliding it back to Z'ian. "We'll go to ones where they do let ya have a drink first, but I won' promise ya'll be able to keep it in hand. One place, mug-tossin's a sport. Feel almost sorry for the bar owner." She turn to his words on Vienne, brows lifting in interest at what she hears. "She needs a good tanner and I'm helpin' her out, since I'm such a good host to beautiful women and all," she explains, that smile being one of mischief. "Promised her a trip first time we met. Asked her about this whole leadership thing, too, while I was at it. Ya know. Havin' Taikrin as a Weyrleader and all." It's all so contrived, maybe. It's a light segue as she fits Z'ian a casual look, watching him before she says, "I never did pick yer head about the whole thing, did I? Was I busy tryin' to get ya naked again?" Clearly that was it. Distraction. "Agreed. Not a good idea to get into a pissing match over who has the more active imagination. Unless of course you wanted to hopelessly derail this conversation?" Z'ian poses that last as a question, flashing a clearly suggestive smile at her. His fingers creep up his face and he laughs at her next, briefly ducking his head. "Yeah. The other ways are usually less painful than a fistfight too." The mention of mug throwing has him grinning crookedly, "Sounds like it would be hard to stay in business. What with ceramics being kind of expensive and all. But maybe he just uses the cheap clay sort." And what a nice segue it is too. It's unfortunate that he's so sensitive to such a thing lately that he picks up on the change in conversation almost immediately. He rather artfully delays it for a few minutes by continuing the conversation on about Vienne. "Yeah, she was looking for boots. I was able help her, since I am also a gracious host to beautiful women. That and I knew where they keep the good boys footwear. Having kids has weird benefits sometimes." And then it gets closer to that other thing and he fends it off a couple of seconds longer by employing his most distracting smile. "I don't know if you were. But you should definitely picture me naked more often than you already do." Jo isn't going to fall for this though, is she? There's that knowing look from Jo on the first, and she acknowledges the poor barkeep with all the broken mugs with a brief, "I do believe it's the cheap stuff. His ale, too. Maybe that's why his patrons are more willin' to fight?" Dark eyes regard the man before him before she reaches forward and takes up the bottle for a long drink, leaning forward in the process. Talk of Vienne and boots gets a wry smile touching her lips as she answers, "I saw the boots. They're cute on her. Ya have kids?" That caught her attention, as perhaps expected, the convict rider inching that bottle back to him with a finger. "How many? How old?" And then Z'ian's employing that distracting smile, which has eyes narrowing a fraction at him even though her own still lingers. It's with crass ease that the bluerider states, "I already do. Why else would I let ya in my weyr with yer booze? Now," and she reaches forward to rap knuckles against what she can of his leg, "Where was I? My wingmate. I know ya have somethin' to say about all of this. Indulge me, in some way." Anything sounds suggestive coming from her lips, even if she's at least trying to be serious. "I have good taste in women's shoes. I'm not sure what that says about me exactly." Z'ian responds, eye rolling at himself. When the bottle comes inching across the table from her, he wraps his fingers around the neck and drags it the rest of the way over. "Two boys. The one just turned eleven and the youngest is eight. They're good kids, no thanks to me." Self-deprecating humor, it's all the rage. He smiles and brings the bottle up to his lips, inserting a quick comment before he takes a long swallow. "That makes two of us then. Except you know, the other way around. I could see myself naked anytime I wanted obviously." He finishes and begins to absently chew on his lower lip when she steers the conversation back towards the topic of the Weyr's leadership. The bronzerider glances down to the hand that raps against his leg, "And what if what I say ends up being something that you don't like hearing?" And it's with obvious reluctance that he shifts into a more serious tone, "I've been finding myself on the wrong side of the fence to plenty of people lately, since that flight. I don't want to be at odds with you too." There's easy laughter on Z'ian's taste in women's shoes, the convict rider stating, "Yer an odd sort, Zach. A good odd. It's one of the reasons why I keep ya around." She leans back a little as she listens on his sons, his self-depecation getting a wry, "Yer not involved with them? And their mothers?" Her smile does bare teeth at Z'ian's humor on nakedness and then she focuses more on his questions posed on the topic of the Weyrleadership, her amusement of before still lingering despite the topic's seriousness. To the first, hands draw out in a gesture of helplessness before Jo says, "What I don' like hearin' is my favorite liquor bein' taken out of rotation at the Snowasis, or, my latest come-on gettin' me slapped in the face. I wouldn' worry about that, darlin'. It's all just words, in the end." Z'ian's last gets a note of interest from her before, "Really?" It's a prompt, rather. Maybe even, giving him the opening to steer the topic to talking about him finding himself at odds with others if he was really adverse to speaking his mind. "I'm a youngest son." As if that should explain all of the good oddness, even if it doesn't necessarily explain anything at all. "No, I am. Just not so much when they were small. I'm a damn awkward man around kids that age, too clumsy and no instincts at all. It's been better as they've gotten older." Z'ian laughs suddenly, shooting her an amused look. "Mother." No plural. "We still talk. She's alright." The other topic does a fantastic job of causing him to tense up his shoulders, regarding Jo almost a bit guardedly for the easy way she waves off his concerns on her reaction. "Is it just words?" He sighs and reaches for the bottle, taking a quick swill before he pushes it across to her. "I'm not happy with the entire situation for a whole variety of reasons. I don't have a whole lot of faith in any of these people. I think it's going to end up poorly. More for the rest of us than them." And there it is as succinctly put as he can get. It's a long moment before he drags his eyes up to her face, "Really." It could have been a prompt, but he's said the first so he lets the other branch of conversation slide away for now. "Another thing we have in common," Jo notes, re-crossing her legs. "I'm the youngest, too. Four older brothers. Does that make me odd, too? Ya would tell me, right?" and she's staring Z'ian down something fierce, as if this was a 'serious business' sort of question even though further study of her could detect that she's one word away from laughing it up. She seems to understand on kids, and as for their mother the bluerider remarks to that, "Alright, ya said. Must be one interestin' story, involvin' her." Or rather, why he wasn't with her, but she doesn't need to say it. She instead watches the bronzerider tense up on her, meeting that little bit of guardedness and question on her catchphrase with, "It is, in a sense. I seek opinion, not a fight. Ya know the sort of fights I prefer, anyway, and the ones with words don' really interest me all that much." She quiets as he speaks then, watching him with the bottle but doesn't take it just yet. Since he takes the first bait, and not the second, "Ya don' trust any of them? Is it their agendas or loyalties that ya question?" Her voice stays neutral, her gaze lingering on Z'ian as she now takes up the drink. Z'ian bites down on his lower lip, holding back that smile that tugs on the corner of his mouth. "I don't know... Is this a week that you're a fighter or lover?" Because if she's a fighter right now, he might wait until next week. Conversation on the mother of his children results in a slow shake of his head and he lifts his chin in the direction of the bottle. "That's one for another night. And a stronger drink. I'll need to feel practically invincible before we go there." His elbow comes off of the table and he ends up leaning forward, using his knees as a rest for himself as he draws his legs in. He's taking his time thinking about this next answer, treading careful around that neutral tone that she's picked up. Eventually his shoulders ease. "It's complicated, I have a lot of thoughts but I'm not sure I've sorted them all out yet. The distrust isn't just agendas or loyalties. It's lack of trust in the capability of some, lack of faith in their overall ability to keep up stable relationships with the holds. That crap is tricky enough as it is, without the other complications." He folds his hands together and drops his chin onto them, looking up and over at her. "Your turn. What about you?" For Z'ian's first, Jo's surges forward to try and punch at a knee of his or any part of his legs, though at least, the punch itself is not all that bad. "Ha, ha," she huffs at him as she does it. "Toldja I'm a lover this seven! I think. I might have to get back to ya on that one." Her banter is easy, it continuing on to the topic on the mother of his children with his answer on stronger drinks. With a fake, long-suffering sigh, "I just think that's yer way of gettin' better liquor outta me," she notes with a brief flap of one hand. "I mean, sure, I've got some strong enough to grow hair on yer chest and have ya thinkin' yer a dragon, too, but will it really make ya invincible enough to tell the tale?" It's hard, keeping that line of banter in the face of serious topics, but strangely enough Jo can do so. She listens all the same to him, nodding in some places and inclining her head in others. She says nothing to that, seeming to be mulling it all over until he prompts her. She darts a glance Z'ian's way for it, blinking. She herself seems to compose herself before that charming smile of hers is back and she answers with a shrug, "Ahh well....I can understand the distrust and shit. Things haven' really change all that much, though, has it?" Leaning forward a bit, "I can put my trust in Taikrin," the convict rider is blunt, not mincing words with him, even though she carefully stays casual. "I know what she's like. She'll do right by things. I trust Brieli and Azaylia, too. Not so sure about H'kon. Might be cuz I don' really know him all that well, and we didn' hit it off so great that first time. Thought he was givin' me lip." Right. He takes that punch at his leg about as good as one could expect. He utters a very fake, "Ow!" before rapidly leaning forward and making a snatch for the offending hand, trying to hold her there before she can retreat totally into her chair. "You know, I'm not so sure that I've gotten the fight out of my system yet. I think you just re-awoke my bloodthirsty desire for violence." Z'ian flashes a crooked smile at her from where he hangs forward on the chair, holding back the laughter. The light intermingled with the darker overtones of their conversation allows for him to exhale slowly. "It would trick me into thinking I was invincible. Wouldn't make me actually invincible. Also, maybe I'm just trying to get you to keep coming back at all. I can get my own hallucination-inducing booze." He points out. There's virtually no reaction on his face when she does tell him her opinion. It's evident that he's not surprised or shocked by it, so maybe it's not a great reveal that he doesn't pull back or anything. "No, not yet." He admits, perhaps a touch reluctantly. "Are the holders going to let her do right by things? Will they put up a fight? Will it strain relationships? It's not Taikrin that worries me there. It's everyone else she's going to encounter. And H'kon... Well, you obviously met him. So I don't think I have to say anything else there." And for the goldriders, "I trust Azaylia, her intentions. Not Brieli." Here he just shrugs his shoulders before smiling lopsidedly. He catches onto something at the end there. Something that must be sort of amusing, "You thought H'kon was giving you lip?" Jo's offending hand gets caught, but not without a little sharp nails into his palm in the process. With her, there's bound to be some pain involved. "A bloodthirsty desire, is it?" she muses over that one in mirth. "Yer so sure ya'll win against me?" and there's a flash of teeth in that toothy grin of hers. "Just so ya know, I play dirty. Ain' ashamed of it, neither." With her free hand she reaches for the bottle and takes a long drink before she draws sharp laugher at the bronzerider's next on being invincible. "Ya need all that to tell me about her, huh? Ya know it's only makin' me even more curious. I'm convinced now yer doin' this on purpose." Deadpan. Back to the main topic on hand though. Shaking her head, "Gotta let Taikrin do her thing, darlin'," she says, her casual demeanor still in place. "Perhaps she'll talk'em right. Say the right things. Some fights are inevitable, though, no matter who's in charge. Ya never know." She finds his words on H'kon and Azaylia amusing, but on Brieli, that one gets her interest. "What is it about Brieli?" she has to ask. At the last, there's a lofty, "Oh, well. He was givin' me the 'eye'. Givin' me a look. Guess it was because I had a knife in my hand, but still. S'not like I was goin' to stab him with it or anythin'. I was eatin'." Seems pretty normal behavior to her. Okay, well. That next 'ow' is a real one, her sharp little nails hurt. Which while he's grimacing, doesn't stop him from returning the pinch with his own. Though they're considerably duller and probably won't pack the same punch. "You think you're the only one that plays dirty?" Z'ian asks, playful and very near to lighthearted despite the other ground they're covering. "We did just mention how we're both the youngest? I pull hair, kick in sensitive places and bite, woman. I won't be so easy." He flashes her a bright smile before he begins to shake his head again. "It's just a long embarrassing story. It makes me look like a gigantic tool and I'm going to need the liquid courage to admit it all. And sure, if it serves a dual purpose I might take some advantage of it." He loosens his grip up on her hand so that she can more comfortably move, even if he's not totally releasing her yet. "I can't stop her from doing her thing, can I?" It's not challenging, it's just a fact of how things are right now. "How could she not know that dragon was going to rise, Jolie? She was setting up for something. She left Azaylia to the wolves here and if H'kon hadn't wandered in when he did? Maybe Taikrin wouldn't be the one with the stronger claim. I don't claim to know what type of game that woman is playing, but she's playing one." That lower lip chewing picks up again. "Anyway. Not like I can go investigating and do anything about it, yeah?" That bit on H'kon. There's a whoosh of air from the bronzerider as he begins to laugh. "I think he gives everyone that look. There's something sort of off about him. I think he's a generally an alright guy though." Jo snorts to his return nails, and Z'ian's words on playing equally dirty. "Shit, that's just foreplay," she tosses out there on the things he would do. And then, equally amused on his story, embarrassing or not, "So wait, this means I'm goin' to have to pull a story out of my ass about how much of an ass I am in exchange, huh?" She's eyeing him on that one, though it's clear she's not taking much of it seriously. At least she's not too much in light of the leadership topic, the convict rider not moving her hand just yet as she focuses on the bottle along with his words. "No," she readily agrees on not being able to stop Taikrin, "but, ya can lend a hand in reassurin' folks around here. Maybe help her out, too. Help them all out, really." The matter of Brieli is a lengthy one, and his opinion doesn't shock her since her face doesn't change. By the looks of things, she seems to have heard that theory before. "I wonder though, was Azaylia really left to the wolves here? K'del was here," she openly ponders that before she shakes her head and shrugs on Brieli. "Well. From what I was told, these things can' be predicted all that well. Can't imagine what it would have been like if Brieli hadn' left here, and they both went up. So ya think they're all gonna put the Weyr to flames, huh?" That's what she's surmising, her teasing back in her voice. On H'kon, there's a quirk of a frown as she answers, "Yeah. Azaylia said that, too. Not sure if I can trust him still. Ya should be askin' how his dragon figured out Brieli's was risin' right at that moment. That seems pretty suspicious to me." "Your foreplay sounds especially bloodthirsty to me then." Z'ian comments with a laugh before he releases her, trailing his fingers down her arm before he leans back in his chair. "No, you don't. But it would be nice so that I don't have to feel like the only complete asshole in the room." He exhales upwards, blowing a bit of his own hair out of his face. "I can't do that." It sounds apologetic, even if it's not Jo that he should really be apologizing to. "Yes she was. It was a mess, the girl wasn't ready for anything like that. They could have switched places, if she'd been honest. Sent Azaylia out of the weyr to someplace around the 'Reaches, but not so close to set each other off. But she was up to something." As for H'kon, he just shakes his head. "Maybe he got out when Brieli's gold called out. Mine heard her. Tsanth wasn't fast enough to make it out before Hraedhyth put her foot down. I don't know what he was doing." The bronzerider just shakes his head and lifts his hands, he doesn't have the answers to her suspicions. "Too many questions." Once Z'ian releases her, Jo gives the man a knowing look for his lingering touch before she herself is leaning back in her chair. "Ya wouldn' be laughin' if ya didn' approve," she observes that with a little smirk. "And I'll think somethin' good up. I've got plenty of little stories. Next time, when yer confident with the right strong stuff." When Z'ian admits that he couldn't help Taikrin out, "Can', or won'?" she puts out there with a little smile and a raised brow, the question seeming rhetorical. She notes the apologetic tilts and she shakes her head to it as she adds, "Who did ya want to lead, if not them? If not yerself?" Curious, and bringing up a talk they had previous on the flight. The matter of Brieli does have a lot of questions, but the bluerider seems to be mulling over what he says since there's not words forthcoming. It's awhile before she answers, "Hmm. I agree. Far too many questions, but, would the answer really matter in the end?" She pauses on that bit before she flashes Z'ian a grin and says, "The insight's useful. Might be others feelin' the same way. Ya said before that others were arguin' back." Now she turns to that other topic, seeming to have put the first one now to rest. "You're right, I wouldn't be encouraging it either." Z'ian grins, even as he brings his thumb up to his mouth and chews on the corner of it. "Next time, stories on how we're terrible human beings. Sounds like it'll be a load of laughs." His smile is crooked even as she poses that rhetorical question. "Both." It might not have been something she meant for him to answer, but he obliges anyway. "I don't even really know. I feel like so much of this isn't right but... I don't know that I have a whole lot of solutions either. It's childish to say, but a do-over would be great. I'm sort of passively resisting and staying out of the way until something happens. I can't say it's pro-active, but." He shrugs his shoulders. "It might matter. Part of the problem is I don't like being lied to. And I get that no one is directly lying to me. But they're lying to us all as a whole and it just bothers me someplace deep." And here is where he shakes his head, takes a breath and proceeds onto the other topic that was dropped earlier. "Just disagreements with other riders. I spoke to Azaylia sometime after the flight, which was uncomfortable." "Deal," Jo is quick to say on stories and the like thereof, her eyes flashing with the comedy of it. Z'ian answers her rhetorical and the bluerider is acknowledging it with a blithe, "That's interestin'." His further answer to other questions get taken in stride, and towards the end of all they he says, she finally nods a bit more firmly to it. "Alright. I can understand that. Waitin' and see. Maybe certain ones will surprise ya, ehh?" One can believe she seems to be mentally filing away all that he's saying, even if she's not saying as much herself. She turns to the other topic briefly now, interest lifting at the drop of Azaylia's name. "I haven' had a chance to talk with her," she notes, that 'yet' perhaps hanging between them. "I'd be interested to hear what she has to say, too." She doesn't supply the 'why' though. She's willing to prompt to see if the bronzerider says anything more, but in either case she now seems amiable to drop the whole matter with one of her rakish smiles and so-called charms. She gets to her feet and reaches for the bottle for another long drink, then checks its heaviness by hefting it in one hand. "Maybe." Z'ian doesn't sound entirely certain that they will, but right at this moment he's not putting his foot down and shoving his fingers into his ears either. What the bronzerider notices or doesn't notice about the way Jo poses her questions, the way they're more or less methodical? He doesn't register any sort of concern for her information gathering. It's possible he's just not putting all his cards on display for her tonight or maybe he's just not thinking too terribly hard. "She's a good girl." Glancing past the bluerider and out towards the ledge, he narrows his eyes. There's the sound of Tsanth shifting out on the ledge. When he looks back to her again, he's somewhat serious and more firm than before. "I think she could use a sympathetic ear, someone to listen to her." But then he smiles and shoots her a bit of knowing expression. Tipping his chin in the direction of the bottle, "We're going to end up with pickled organs, the both of us." There's more shifting and now whaffling complaints outside. "Apparently I have unexpected company at my weyr." "I might make a stop-by, in between my oh-so busy schedule," Jo answers on Azaylia needing an ear, stepping forward, and if Z'ian doesn't stop her, she'll lean to grab him by the arm to pull him up out of his seat and towards him. Perhaps to distract him from her information gathering - or, she's just offbeat like that - the convict rider snorts on his comment on the bottle and gestures with her chin over towards it as she says, "Enjoyed the nightcap, and the talk, darlin'. I could bring somethin' stronger next time, but I dunno if ya can handle it." A verbal poke with laughter in her tone, and when the bronzerider announces that he has unexpected company, she curls a finger between them in a 'come hither' gesture for a kiss accompanying that crooked smile. "I get this feeling she might appreciate it. Not that I know her well or anything." Which he doesn't, but it doesn't stop him from feeling some concern for the young goldrider. Z'ian doesn't do a thing to prevent her from pulling him out of the chair, it wouldn't be far off the mark to suggest he totally goes along with it either. Helps Jo, even. As to whether or not he can handle something stronger, he laughs and rolls his eyes at her. She's flashed a lopsided smile, "You have no faith in me, do you?" The potential lack of faith doesn't deter him from taking hold of her 'come hither' finger and drawing her closer. He tips his head down to meet her mouth, coaxing her lower lip in and nipping down harder than she might expect from him. Tsanth loudly rumbles from out on the ledge and his rider sighs. "I'm probably not the one she'll get comforting words from," Jo seems to warn of her own failings - the convict rider wasn't exactly a nurturing type of girl. Still, she seems to be taking Z'ian's concerns for the goldrider to hand as he's letting himself be pulled forward and onto her lips. Her kiss isn't gentle as she meets his own ardor, but it's a quick one that says her goodbye and goodnight better than any words from her would have. It's a mark of her familiarity with the bronzerider, and once the kiss breaks at Tsanth's rumble, only then does she answer him on faith. "Ya've proven me wrong before, bronzerider," she says, reaching up to briefly squeeze his elbow before stepping away. "Go on. I think yer about to have a Tsanth-sized problem on yer hands if ya don'." She'll let him leave, walking backwards towards her press and bed, looking like she won't be going to bed just yet. "I don't think you'll have to say much, maybe just be there. It can be enough." Because Z'ian is the prime example of how to make people feel better. Except not exactly, not these days anyway. But he could have a point. It's the way that he begins to lean into her then, that underlines that he's comfortable enough to not worry about encroaching on her space. He sneaks one hand up to brush his thumb on her chin. "One of these nights." He smirks and glances to the side, attention shifting behind him. "I think he likes him better than he likes me sometimes." There isn't any great elaboration on who that might be as they break away from each other. "Next time." The bottle is left on her table, whatever is left inside of it. He turns, disappearing out under the heavy curtain to take off with the complaining and anxious bronze. |
Leave A Comment