When Chores Collide
Who: Winston and Rhodya with NPC Lairi
Where: The herb garden
When: Afternoon on day 14, month 13, turn 18
What: Winston's still shoveling snow and Rhodya's out walking Lairi because of her duties with the elders. The three of them have a 'nice' chat and Rhodya gets Winston's hat for her troubles.
Leaning heavily on her cane, an old woman wrapped so heavily in thick clothes that she's almost invisible beneath them shuffles through the herb garden. At her side, Rhodya's heeling like an obedient dog, looking a bit fussed to be out here in the cold with an old woman. But the lady seems quite determined, and is at this very moment lecturing her about the immeasurable good that comes from being cold. "Keeps a body alive, don't you see, else the blood gets lazy. Sticks in your joints. Look at me, you see how old I am? And still on my feet. Didn't get that way by sitting out in the sun at Igen, nosirree." Rhodya sets aside her worries momentarily to shoot the old woman an amused glance. "Well, ma'am, I've known some old folks at Igen who claim sittin' out in the sun's what did 'em good, turned their bodies into tough old leather." "Bah! Nonsense!"
What luck for the ladies that there's someone out here to greet them. Winston's spent the day shoveling snow and it's not over yet. He has to be more careful here than in the bowl which is perhaps why there's not more than him out doing it. Too many enthusiastic candidates could create problems. As his shovel dips down and then up to shift snow off the walkway he looks up at the sounds of people approaching. "And here they told me nothing was going be blooming right now out here," he calls out with a wide grin in place. "Clearly they lied because I spy two of the most beautiful blossoms ever to be seen at Fort."
The old woman looks up, analyzes Winston, then passes judgment: "Charmer." She pokes her cane at the still-snowy part of the walkway he's working on. "If you turned those warm words on your job there I'd be able to continue my walk." Rhodya shoots Winston a grin over the lady's back, escorting her to a nearby bench in the cleared area. "Hullo, Winston. They're gettin' some good use out of those muscles of yours, huh?" Remembering her manners, she adds, "Oh, this here's Lairi, who used to be a cook here in her day. Lairi, Winston's a fellow candidate." The old woman waves her hand dismissively; either she already guessed or doesn't care.
"I was waiting for you," Winston informs Lairi with a wink and his best charming grin. "You have inspired me to greater efforts now. With your beautiful visage to warm my heart I shall complete my work in half the time." He hefts his shovel, pretending not to notice it's half-full of snow and lets that slide down his back. "And, Rhodya, my love. If I knew you were going to be here I would have worn my best pants." Because his poor scarlet with gold trim trousers are apparently not his best.
Rhodya squints at his pants. "They look like good pants to me. 'Course I don't know nothin' about no clothes above the ankle, but if you're dressin' to impress me it doesn't matter, does it? Seein' I think highly of them." She grins, waiting to see what he'll make of that assessment. Lairi is making little tut noises softly, to herself, as she arranges her bundled clothes to get comfortable on the bench. Without looking up, or acknowledging the discussion of pants at all, she says, "You make sure you don't dump any of that snow you've shoveled on the plants here, young man, even if you are eager to please."
Winston's smile doesn't even falter when the former cook delivers her words. "Thank goodness you are here, my darling Lairi! I might have been doing just that, oh, I have not." His tone is all teasing and his eyes twinkle like he's just trying to egg her on anyway. He winks at Rhodya and then shakes one of his legs. "Well, they are last season's unfortunately. But we all must do what we must. But so long as you think highly of them, Rhodya dearest I shall be content." Down comes the shovel and he carries it over to an unused plot, likely where he was told to dump it.
Lairi grumbles at him, watching suspiciously while he carries away to dump the snow in a safe place. Evidently she knows it's safe, because she gives a grunt and settles down again, her beady eyes fixed on him and on guard against possible future mistakes. "There's a season for that kind of thing?" asks Rhodya, tipping her head to the side. "I figure if pants look good on you, they look good on you, doesn't matter if it's turn eighteen or seventeen."
"Rhodya, my love," Winston says with a slow shake of his head. "Clothes are important and they grow less important the longer you wear them. This fabric shortage is wrecking havoc upon my wardrobe. I have been forced to reuse items I would long have gotten rid of." There's a big sigh at this as he shovels more snow and carries it to be deposited properly. "I am counting on you, Lairi my sweet, to tell me if I slip up."
"Oh, you can count on it," Lairi answers, clicking her tongue. "Never known a man who didn't need correction." She snorts and bumps Rhodya with her elbow, but swiftly hunches down to keep staring. Rhodya snickers along with the old woman. "Me neither, ma'am, exceptin' my Papa." Lairi soundlessly nods her approval of this piety, and Rhodya continues. "Well, I leave it to you to figure out which clothes is good, Winston. I'd heard Fortians were a bit more into dressin' themselves than most, but you're the first I've met who talked about it, anyway."
"Is that an offer then to correct me then, Lairi you sly woman, you. I knew you were a spry one when I laid eyes on you." Winston winks at the old woman and balls a mittened fist against a cocked out hip. He poses for just a second and then he's back to work. While he works he tells Rhodya, "A man has a reputation to maintain. Mine involves my splendid wardrobe that makes men jealous and women swoon. Oh, wait, that's just my natural charm and good looks. It's so hard being me."
Both women, young and old, give a snort, but Lairi's the first to speak. "I don't know how many turns I've got left, young man, and I won't be spending any of them setting you straight. From the looks of you, it'd take all the time I have to teach you what /I/ know." She chuckles quietly to herself and rubs her hands together. Rhodya presses her lips closed over a laugh, but the amusement's still bubbling up in her voice when she decides to speak again. "I'd say your reputation's more tied up in who you bed than what you wear, Winston. Least, I haven't heard you described as the guy with the great fashion sense - even though I'm sure you have one," she adds, which might be nice of her if not for the non-committal shrug that comes with it.
The hardest working candidate in the area continues his work. He doesn't slow down unless he's got something to say and he keeps his words to himself for a bit. When he does pause he lets out a heavy sigh as he gives Lairi his saddest eyed expression ever. "Now I know I will die an unfulfilled man with those words. Don't suppose you'd at least consider writing it all down for me?" He waggles his brows comically at the old woman before more snow gets moved. Next time he pauses he winks at Rhodya. "A man's reputation is not always the truth of what he is, sweetheart. Just because people think I'm a pair of loose trousers and that's it does not mean I am not so much more."
"Now, I'm not sayin' otherwise," Rhodya corrects him carefully. "Just mentioning that what folks focus on is the loose trousers, and if they miss the rest of you, well, that's a hazard I'm sure you're well accustomed to." She shrugs, though, and looks down at her gloves to pull them on more tightly. Lairi's eyes skim from one candidate to the other while this exchange is going on, and in the end she dismisses their conversation as unimportant (again) and scrolls back to Winston's comment. "Writing takes more time than talking. You'll just have to learn by doing," she suggests, a nasty laugh underlying her tone.
"You are a cruel woman, Lairi. Lucky for me I don't give up easy." Winston's wink comes with a chuckle as he takes a breather from shoveling. Not a long one lest he risk getting knuckles rapped, but a little break none the less. "Rhodya, I'll have you know my trousers are no more or less loose than any other man here at Fort. They are, however, better quality and fashion than many of them. But they're cinched tight these days I promise you. I'm waiting on you after all." Up comes the shovel and moves to finish off the walkway he was working on.
Lairi's eyes narrow when she catches him taking a break, but while she's clearly on the edge of snapping at him to get back to work, he winds up doing just that before she decides to it. Mollified - in fact quite pleased, as if her glare alone had compelled him to go back to work - the old woman relaxes a bit. Rhodya tilts her head at Winston. "I dunno, I'd say they're pretty loose. Unless all that talk you do is just that, talk, then I'm pretty sure you're in the upper level of folks who get around in bed." That he was talking about his trousers literally, she either missed or ignored. "But don't worry, I believe you've been good since you got Searched. Not for me, maybe, so much as a little dragon of your very own," she suggests, grinning again and quite broadly.
It is probably part fear of the old woman that keeps Winston working. He can either charm an old woman or not and when he cannot he seems willing to be on his best behavior. "A man never kisses and tells," he informs Rhodya with a slow wink as he lets snow tumble into the proper place. "And since I am not concerned about the reputation or lack there of related to my bed activities I see no reason to confirm or deny what, if anything, I do with the lovely women of the Weyr." He lets out a deep breath and then tugs his hat off to shove it in his coat pocket. "And is that why you're behaving?" he asks his fellow candidate. "Or do you just always follow the rules?"
Rhodya watches the hat go from head to pocket, then looks back up at his (now less shaded) face. "I don't sleep around," she tells him, matter-of-fact. "It ain't my way. But I've got no problem following the rules, either, as it ain't my way to make trouble, either." She chuckles to herself, then leans forward on her seat. She gestures at the hat. "Can I see it?"
"Me either," Winston informs Rhodya with a hearty chuckle. "Always asleep in my own bed before morning." He continues the shoveling and gets the one walkway clear. Then he heads back for Rhodya and her charge to hand over the black and red cap. "Anything for you. Anything at all. Making trouble is fun however." But he's then back to his shoveling starting on a new path.
Rhodya takes the hat with a big sunny smile and drops it on her head, then starts combing her fingers around it to catch (and re-style) any stray bits of hair that might have been displaced by the sudden introduction of the hat. "Makin' mischief is fun," Rhodya corrects him, "makin' trouble ain't. Difference being that mischief doesn't cause harm or stress to other people who've gotta clean up after you, or what have." Satisfied with her arrangement of her hair, she strikes a little pose with her head turned to one side. "How's it suit me?" she asks Winston, modeling his hat.
"Depends on the kind of trouble," Winston says as he works. It's slower on this path because the dumping spot is farther away, but it doesn't seem to slow him down that much. When he looks up at Rhodya he drops the shovel and lets it land in the snow. His hands clutch his heart and he stares at her for several seconds. "I am all agog at such a sight," he tells her with a broad grin and a wink. "Now I am forced to insist you keep that because after seeing it look that good on you I cannot even imagine trying to wear it again."
Rhodya suddenly blushes, taking off the hat. Several strands of hair, having attached themselves statically to the hat, visibly fly after it, ruining all her good hair-styling. "Oh, no, it's your hat, Winston. I was just bein' goofy. 'Sides, I don't even wear hats." She gestures at her hair, still in fairly good (and painstakingly styled) order despite the efforts of those dastardly rogue strands. Lairi breaks into all this suddenly, putting a knobby hand on Rhodya's shoulder and squeezing it to get attention. "Young lady, help me over to that bench over there. I want to continue my walk now he's cleared the path." Rhodya hastens to obey, gently helping the old woman to her feet so she can shuffle along after Winston, in his newly-cleared pile of snow. He'll have to wait a bit to shovel more, since she's blocking his path back to the dump-zone.
Shovel slung over his shoulder Winston looks at Rhodya and just shakes his head. "Rhodya, darlin', what did I say? Did I do something? I just think women in hats are adorable, but you notice I kept my hands to myself and everything. Not trying to lure you into anything. You want the hat to keep your head warm it's yours. Holds no special meaning to me." He gestures to her and then he lets the shovel drop and leans on it. Striking a pose as he watches the women walk he starts edging around the pathways he can while he waits to clear more.
"It ain't that you said nothin' offensive," Rhodya replies, "and I don't expect you of trying to lure me at all. Just that I wasn't trying on the hat with an aim to keep it, so I don't feel comfortable just takin' it from you, when it's your hat." She shrugs. Of course, by now the poor hat is in her pocket, since her arm is busy making sure Lairi gets across the walkway all right. The old woman bats at the helping hand that's offered her, perfectly insistent on getting the whole way to the bench all by herself, though it admittedly seems harder for her to walk now that she's been out for a while than it did when first arrived out here. Rhodya bites her lip and watches the old woman worriedly.
"Well, I have plenty more hats and a fine woman should have a fine hat." Winston does some clean up on pathways available and continues to edge along them to make sure snow doesn't fall right back when he's done. "It's not right to have no hat in this weather. Tell you what if you want to borrow it just until you can liberate one from stores for yourself I would be honored to loan it to you." He grins at her and then he too watches Lairi. "You are looking quite chill too, Rhodya. I hate to say it, but you might need to head back inside or poor Lairi might be trying to carry your body back." He winks at his fellow candidate when he's sure the old woman won't see.
"She'd have a frightful time of it, me bein' all gangly and all," Rhodya replies, her grin returning. She doesn't answer back about the hat just yet; she's evidently still thinking about it, and joking about the cold buys her more time to do so. But Lairi gets cross with them. "Don't you try and talk over my head," she snaps without bothering to look up. "I'm old, not stupid. I'm staying out here in this cold until I've had my fill of it, and not a hair sooner." Her voice drops into a mutter as she saves breath for the last few steps between her and that tantalizing bench. "Damn fools think I'm going to die or something, look at that." She grasps Rhodya's arm and eases herself down in her seat.
"If I were concerned about you, Lairi my love," Winston says to the old woman as he walks by with a shovel full of snow, "Then I would have said something like 'Lairi, my love, I fear for your fragile beautiful self. Won't you please take your graciousness inside?' But I was thinking of poor Rhodya from Igen. You know she's freezing her poor self to death just to accommodate yourself." He shakes his head and continues on with his work. "Such a shameful thing accusing us of speaking over your darling head. I would never do that. Your head is much too sharp for that."
Lairi gives him an appropriately sharp glance for that, watching him suspiciously for a few moments more. "Hah," she laughs eventually. Whether or not she believes him, she's decided to let the issue slide. "Never stop charming, do you," she asks, but looks and sounds disinterested, already leaning back into the bench to close her eyes and breathe in the garden air. Rhodya smiles a bit awkwardly - she, at least, was definitely trying to talk over Lairi's head. "Tell you what," she says, "I'll wear the hat till I get tired of having it on, and when I'm done I'll drop it on your cot." Change of subject, good.
Winston's shovel work, work, works as he listens to the women talk. He's no slacker even if he does have loose trousers. "Not so long as I am breathing. You'll come around. They always do." But he's not that worried about it because there's Rhodya to charm and of course she's going to fall for it. "That, to me," he tells her with a wink, "Sounds like an excellent idea. And I shall be a happy man knowing I have been of some assistance to you. Now on to an important question though. Someone told me their might be apple pie with dinner. Can you verify this?"
With a grin, Rhodya whips out the hat again and plunks it down on her head a second time. She's lessy picky about stray hairs this time, having perhaps come to accept them as one of the natural hazards that comes from wearing a hat. "Happens I can verify it," Rhodya says, "since I watched Farah and some others settin' the crusts last night. If you want 'em, though, you better make sure you get to dinner early, 'cause those things always go fast when they're out there. And if people're talking to you about 'em, then word's got out already, so odds are they'll be going even faster."
"A stunning sight. I'd kiss you if I weren't afraid of a kick to my delicate regions." Winston's wink this time comes right along with a low chuckle. Then he's off to shoveling again. When she confirms his suspicions he grins. "Yes! I love apple pie. I'm going to finish up right now." He sounds like a kid promised a piece of cake the day before his birthday. "I'll save you a piece if you miss out, but you have to promise to do the same for me." Eyes wide and hopeful he asks, "Do you? Promise?"
Rhodya puts a protective hand on the hat and gives it an approving tap. "Save you what, a piece of pie? Well, I ain't gonna be there in time to get one, I expect, but sure I'd save you one if I did. This time, though, seems like it's gonna be you pickin' up two pieces of pie, getting death glares from everyone around you what thinks that's more than your fair share." She chuckles.
Winston's shovel is making quick work of the pathways with the promise of pie to lure him onwards. "Ahh, well, I have no problem dealing with those looks at all. Not if it means doing a favor for one of my favorite people. Under the age of thirty at least." He does a bit more shoveling and then he stops to wipe his hand across his forehead. "I think that quite does it. Ladies, I am going to try to go warm up before I engage in extra pie getting. After spending all day shoveling I think I need a quick soak."
"Brave man, willin' to steal pie from hungry, jealous people," Rhodya remarks with a chuckle. She's then dragged back to her chore for today when Lairi tugs on her arm again, putting her cane out as she prepares to get up and resume her walk. "All right, well, I'll see you, Winston. Gotta collect my pie, after all." She has time to give him a little wave before turning her attention entirely towards Lairi, steadying her elbow as she rises. "You didn't screw up my garden too badly," the old woman judges, sliding a narrow-eyed and very judgmental glance at Winston as he prepares to depart. "But I've seen better." After a loud "Hah!" she begins inching her way down the path he so recently cleared. Apparently, that's her way of saying goodbye.
Where: The herb garden
When: Afternoon on day 14, month 13, turn 18
What: Winston's still shoveling snow and Rhodya's out walking Lairi because of her duties with the elders. The three of them have a 'nice' chat and Rhodya gets Winston's hat for her troubles.
Leaning heavily on her cane, an old woman wrapped so heavily in thick clothes that she's almost invisible beneath them shuffles through the herb garden. At her side, Rhodya's heeling like an obedient dog, looking a bit fussed to be out here in the cold with an old woman. But the lady seems quite determined, and is at this very moment lecturing her about the immeasurable good that comes from being cold. "Keeps a body alive, don't you see, else the blood gets lazy. Sticks in your joints. Look at me, you see how old I am? And still on my feet. Didn't get that way by sitting out in the sun at Igen, nosirree." Rhodya sets aside her worries momentarily to shoot the old woman an amused glance. "Well, ma'am, I've known some old folks at Igen who claim sittin' out in the sun's what did 'em good, turned their bodies into tough old leather." "Bah! Nonsense!"
What luck for the ladies that there's someone out here to greet them. Winston's spent the day shoveling snow and it's not over yet. He has to be more careful here than in the bowl which is perhaps why there's not more than him out doing it. Too many enthusiastic candidates could create problems. As his shovel dips down and then up to shift snow off the walkway he looks up at the sounds of people approaching. "And here they told me nothing was going be blooming right now out here," he calls out with a wide grin in place. "Clearly they lied because I spy two of the most beautiful blossoms ever to be seen at Fort."
The old woman looks up, analyzes Winston, then passes judgment: "Charmer." She pokes her cane at the still-snowy part of the walkway he's working on. "If you turned those warm words on your job there I'd be able to continue my walk." Rhodya shoots Winston a grin over the lady's back, escorting her to a nearby bench in the cleared area. "Hullo, Winston. They're gettin' some good use out of those muscles of yours, huh?" Remembering her manners, she adds, "Oh, this here's Lairi, who used to be a cook here in her day. Lairi, Winston's a fellow candidate." The old woman waves her hand dismissively; either she already guessed or doesn't care.
"I was waiting for you," Winston informs Lairi with a wink and his best charming grin. "You have inspired me to greater efforts now. With your beautiful visage to warm my heart I shall complete my work in half the time." He hefts his shovel, pretending not to notice it's half-full of snow and lets that slide down his back. "And, Rhodya, my love. If I knew you were going to be here I would have worn my best pants." Because his poor scarlet with gold trim trousers are apparently not his best.
Rhodya squints at his pants. "They look like good pants to me. 'Course I don't know nothin' about no clothes above the ankle, but if you're dressin' to impress me it doesn't matter, does it? Seein' I think highly of them." She grins, waiting to see what he'll make of that assessment. Lairi is making little tut noises softly, to herself, as she arranges her bundled clothes to get comfortable on the bench. Without looking up, or acknowledging the discussion of pants at all, she says, "You make sure you don't dump any of that snow you've shoveled on the plants here, young man, even if you are eager to please."
Winston's smile doesn't even falter when the former cook delivers her words. "Thank goodness you are here, my darling Lairi! I might have been doing just that, oh, I have not." His tone is all teasing and his eyes twinkle like he's just trying to egg her on anyway. He winks at Rhodya and then shakes one of his legs. "Well, they are last season's unfortunately. But we all must do what we must. But so long as you think highly of them, Rhodya dearest I shall be content." Down comes the shovel and he carries it over to an unused plot, likely where he was told to dump it.
Lairi grumbles at him, watching suspiciously while he carries away to dump the snow in a safe place. Evidently she knows it's safe, because she gives a grunt and settles down again, her beady eyes fixed on him and on guard against possible future mistakes. "There's a season for that kind of thing?" asks Rhodya, tipping her head to the side. "I figure if pants look good on you, they look good on you, doesn't matter if it's turn eighteen or seventeen."
"Rhodya, my love," Winston says with a slow shake of his head. "Clothes are important and they grow less important the longer you wear them. This fabric shortage is wrecking havoc upon my wardrobe. I have been forced to reuse items I would long have gotten rid of." There's a big sigh at this as he shovels more snow and carries it to be deposited properly. "I am counting on you, Lairi my sweet, to tell me if I slip up."
"Oh, you can count on it," Lairi answers, clicking her tongue. "Never known a man who didn't need correction." She snorts and bumps Rhodya with her elbow, but swiftly hunches down to keep staring. Rhodya snickers along with the old woman. "Me neither, ma'am, exceptin' my Papa." Lairi soundlessly nods her approval of this piety, and Rhodya continues. "Well, I leave it to you to figure out which clothes is good, Winston. I'd heard Fortians were a bit more into dressin' themselves than most, but you're the first I've met who talked about it, anyway."
"Is that an offer then to correct me then, Lairi you sly woman, you. I knew you were a spry one when I laid eyes on you." Winston winks at the old woman and balls a mittened fist against a cocked out hip. He poses for just a second and then he's back to work. While he works he tells Rhodya, "A man has a reputation to maintain. Mine involves my splendid wardrobe that makes men jealous and women swoon. Oh, wait, that's just my natural charm and good looks. It's so hard being me."
Both women, young and old, give a snort, but Lairi's the first to speak. "I don't know how many turns I've got left, young man, and I won't be spending any of them setting you straight. From the looks of you, it'd take all the time I have to teach you what /I/ know." She chuckles quietly to herself and rubs her hands together. Rhodya presses her lips closed over a laugh, but the amusement's still bubbling up in her voice when she decides to speak again. "I'd say your reputation's more tied up in who you bed than what you wear, Winston. Least, I haven't heard you described as the guy with the great fashion sense - even though I'm sure you have one," she adds, which might be nice of her if not for the non-committal shrug that comes with it.
The hardest working candidate in the area continues his work. He doesn't slow down unless he's got something to say and he keeps his words to himself for a bit. When he does pause he lets out a heavy sigh as he gives Lairi his saddest eyed expression ever. "Now I know I will die an unfulfilled man with those words. Don't suppose you'd at least consider writing it all down for me?" He waggles his brows comically at the old woman before more snow gets moved. Next time he pauses he winks at Rhodya. "A man's reputation is not always the truth of what he is, sweetheart. Just because people think I'm a pair of loose trousers and that's it does not mean I am not so much more."
"Now, I'm not sayin' otherwise," Rhodya corrects him carefully. "Just mentioning that what folks focus on is the loose trousers, and if they miss the rest of you, well, that's a hazard I'm sure you're well accustomed to." She shrugs, though, and looks down at her gloves to pull them on more tightly. Lairi's eyes skim from one candidate to the other while this exchange is going on, and in the end she dismisses their conversation as unimportant (again) and scrolls back to Winston's comment. "Writing takes more time than talking. You'll just have to learn by doing," she suggests, a nasty laugh underlying her tone.
"You are a cruel woman, Lairi. Lucky for me I don't give up easy." Winston's wink comes with a chuckle as he takes a breather from shoveling. Not a long one lest he risk getting knuckles rapped, but a little break none the less. "Rhodya, I'll have you know my trousers are no more or less loose than any other man here at Fort. They are, however, better quality and fashion than many of them. But they're cinched tight these days I promise you. I'm waiting on you after all." Up comes the shovel and moves to finish off the walkway he was working on.
Lairi's eyes narrow when she catches him taking a break, but while she's clearly on the edge of snapping at him to get back to work, he winds up doing just that before she decides to it. Mollified - in fact quite pleased, as if her glare alone had compelled him to go back to work - the old woman relaxes a bit. Rhodya tilts her head at Winston. "I dunno, I'd say they're pretty loose. Unless all that talk you do is just that, talk, then I'm pretty sure you're in the upper level of folks who get around in bed." That he was talking about his trousers literally, she either missed or ignored. "But don't worry, I believe you've been good since you got Searched. Not for me, maybe, so much as a little dragon of your very own," she suggests, grinning again and quite broadly.
It is probably part fear of the old woman that keeps Winston working. He can either charm an old woman or not and when he cannot he seems willing to be on his best behavior. "A man never kisses and tells," he informs Rhodya with a slow wink as he lets snow tumble into the proper place. "And since I am not concerned about the reputation or lack there of related to my bed activities I see no reason to confirm or deny what, if anything, I do with the lovely women of the Weyr." He lets out a deep breath and then tugs his hat off to shove it in his coat pocket. "And is that why you're behaving?" he asks his fellow candidate. "Or do you just always follow the rules?"
Rhodya watches the hat go from head to pocket, then looks back up at his (now less shaded) face. "I don't sleep around," she tells him, matter-of-fact. "It ain't my way. But I've got no problem following the rules, either, as it ain't my way to make trouble, either." She chuckles to herself, then leans forward on her seat. She gestures at the hat. "Can I see it?"
"Me either," Winston informs Rhodya with a hearty chuckle. "Always asleep in my own bed before morning." He continues the shoveling and gets the one walkway clear. Then he heads back for Rhodya and her charge to hand over the black and red cap. "Anything for you. Anything at all. Making trouble is fun however." But he's then back to his shoveling starting on a new path.
Rhodya takes the hat with a big sunny smile and drops it on her head, then starts combing her fingers around it to catch (and re-style) any stray bits of hair that might have been displaced by the sudden introduction of the hat. "Makin' mischief is fun," Rhodya corrects him, "makin' trouble ain't. Difference being that mischief doesn't cause harm or stress to other people who've gotta clean up after you, or what have." Satisfied with her arrangement of her hair, she strikes a little pose with her head turned to one side. "How's it suit me?" she asks Winston, modeling his hat.
"Depends on the kind of trouble," Winston says as he works. It's slower on this path because the dumping spot is farther away, but it doesn't seem to slow him down that much. When he looks up at Rhodya he drops the shovel and lets it land in the snow. His hands clutch his heart and he stares at her for several seconds. "I am all agog at such a sight," he tells her with a broad grin and a wink. "Now I am forced to insist you keep that because after seeing it look that good on you I cannot even imagine trying to wear it again."
Rhodya suddenly blushes, taking off the hat. Several strands of hair, having attached themselves statically to the hat, visibly fly after it, ruining all her good hair-styling. "Oh, no, it's your hat, Winston. I was just bein' goofy. 'Sides, I don't even wear hats." She gestures at her hair, still in fairly good (and painstakingly styled) order despite the efforts of those dastardly rogue strands. Lairi breaks into all this suddenly, putting a knobby hand on Rhodya's shoulder and squeezing it to get attention. "Young lady, help me over to that bench over there. I want to continue my walk now he's cleared the path." Rhodya hastens to obey, gently helping the old woman to her feet so she can shuffle along after Winston, in his newly-cleared pile of snow. He'll have to wait a bit to shovel more, since she's blocking his path back to the dump-zone.
Shovel slung over his shoulder Winston looks at Rhodya and just shakes his head. "Rhodya, darlin', what did I say? Did I do something? I just think women in hats are adorable, but you notice I kept my hands to myself and everything. Not trying to lure you into anything. You want the hat to keep your head warm it's yours. Holds no special meaning to me." He gestures to her and then he lets the shovel drop and leans on it. Striking a pose as he watches the women walk he starts edging around the pathways he can while he waits to clear more.
"It ain't that you said nothin' offensive," Rhodya replies, "and I don't expect you of trying to lure me at all. Just that I wasn't trying on the hat with an aim to keep it, so I don't feel comfortable just takin' it from you, when it's your hat." She shrugs. Of course, by now the poor hat is in her pocket, since her arm is busy making sure Lairi gets across the walkway all right. The old woman bats at the helping hand that's offered her, perfectly insistent on getting the whole way to the bench all by herself, though it admittedly seems harder for her to walk now that she's been out for a while than it did when first arrived out here. Rhodya bites her lip and watches the old woman worriedly.
"Well, I have plenty more hats and a fine woman should have a fine hat." Winston does some clean up on pathways available and continues to edge along them to make sure snow doesn't fall right back when he's done. "It's not right to have no hat in this weather. Tell you what if you want to borrow it just until you can liberate one from stores for yourself I would be honored to loan it to you." He grins at her and then he too watches Lairi. "You are looking quite chill too, Rhodya. I hate to say it, but you might need to head back inside or poor Lairi might be trying to carry your body back." He winks at his fellow candidate when he's sure the old woman won't see.
"She'd have a frightful time of it, me bein' all gangly and all," Rhodya replies, her grin returning. She doesn't answer back about the hat just yet; she's evidently still thinking about it, and joking about the cold buys her more time to do so. But Lairi gets cross with them. "Don't you try and talk over my head," she snaps without bothering to look up. "I'm old, not stupid. I'm staying out here in this cold until I've had my fill of it, and not a hair sooner." Her voice drops into a mutter as she saves breath for the last few steps between her and that tantalizing bench. "Damn fools think I'm going to die or something, look at that." She grasps Rhodya's arm and eases herself down in her seat.
"If I were concerned about you, Lairi my love," Winston says to the old woman as he walks by with a shovel full of snow, "Then I would have said something like 'Lairi, my love, I fear for your fragile beautiful self. Won't you please take your graciousness inside?' But I was thinking of poor Rhodya from Igen. You know she's freezing her poor self to death just to accommodate yourself." He shakes his head and continues on with his work. "Such a shameful thing accusing us of speaking over your darling head. I would never do that. Your head is much too sharp for that."
Lairi gives him an appropriately sharp glance for that, watching him suspiciously for a few moments more. "Hah," she laughs eventually. Whether or not she believes him, she's decided to let the issue slide. "Never stop charming, do you," she asks, but looks and sounds disinterested, already leaning back into the bench to close her eyes and breathe in the garden air. Rhodya smiles a bit awkwardly - she, at least, was definitely trying to talk over Lairi's head. "Tell you what," she says, "I'll wear the hat till I get tired of having it on, and when I'm done I'll drop it on your cot." Change of subject, good.
Winston's shovel work, work, works as he listens to the women talk. He's no slacker even if he does have loose trousers. "Not so long as I am breathing. You'll come around. They always do." But he's not that worried about it because there's Rhodya to charm and of course she's going to fall for it. "That, to me," he tells her with a wink, "Sounds like an excellent idea. And I shall be a happy man knowing I have been of some assistance to you. Now on to an important question though. Someone told me their might be apple pie with dinner. Can you verify this?"
With a grin, Rhodya whips out the hat again and plunks it down on her head a second time. She's lessy picky about stray hairs this time, having perhaps come to accept them as one of the natural hazards that comes from wearing a hat. "Happens I can verify it," Rhodya says, "since I watched Farah and some others settin' the crusts last night. If you want 'em, though, you better make sure you get to dinner early, 'cause those things always go fast when they're out there. And if people're talking to you about 'em, then word's got out already, so odds are they'll be going even faster."
"A stunning sight. I'd kiss you if I weren't afraid of a kick to my delicate regions." Winston's wink this time comes right along with a low chuckle. Then he's off to shoveling again. When she confirms his suspicions he grins. "Yes! I love apple pie. I'm going to finish up right now." He sounds like a kid promised a piece of cake the day before his birthday. "I'll save you a piece if you miss out, but you have to promise to do the same for me." Eyes wide and hopeful he asks, "Do you? Promise?"
Rhodya puts a protective hand on the hat and gives it an approving tap. "Save you what, a piece of pie? Well, I ain't gonna be there in time to get one, I expect, but sure I'd save you one if I did. This time, though, seems like it's gonna be you pickin' up two pieces of pie, getting death glares from everyone around you what thinks that's more than your fair share." She chuckles.
Winston's shovel is making quick work of the pathways with the promise of pie to lure him onwards. "Ahh, well, I have no problem dealing with those looks at all. Not if it means doing a favor for one of my favorite people. Under the age of thirty at least." He does a bit more shoveling and then he stops to wipe his hand across his forehead. "I think that quite does it. Ladies, I am going to try to go warm up before I engage in extra pie getting. After spending all day shoveling I think I need a quick soak."
"Brave man, willin' to steal pie from hungry, jealous people," Rhodya remarks with a chuckle. She's then dragged back to her chore for today when Lairi tugs on her arm again, putting her cane out as she prepares to get up and resume her walk. "All right, well, I'll see you, Winston. Gotta collect my pie, after all." She has time to give him a little wave before turning her attention entirely towards Lairi, steadying her elbow as she rises. "You didn't screw up my garden too badly," the old woman judges, sliding a narrow-eyed and very judgmental glance at Winston as he prepares to depart. "But I've seen better." After a loud "Hah!" she begins inching her way down the path he so recently cleared. Apparently, that's her way of saying goodbye.