Maybe it can be pink.
Who: W'ton and R'uen
Where: The Glass Fountain
When: After dinner on day 2, month 12, turn 19
What: W'ton's got a question for R'uen regarding a way to acquire a gift for a certain lady for turnover.
It's after dinner now and the after-dinner crowd has settled in. While R'uen isn't always among them, his presence here, catching up with riders and residents alike, is not at all unusual. Tonight he's got himself a table and a pint of ale and a companion who is just getting up try his luck with a girl at the bar, leaving the Weyrleader alone with his drink.
W'ton's not much of a drinker so he's by no means a regular patron here in the Glass Fountain. In enough to at least be able to grin at the barmaid before ordering a pint for himself and speaking to the bartender. He nods in return and once the weyrling has his drink he looks around and spotting R'uen heads over to his table. "Evening, sir. Got company or mind if I sit for a bit?"
R'uen looks just a touch surprised to be approached by the weyrling, but whatever hint of it is in his expression gets covered up by a ready grin. "Got a seat for you right here," he answers, pushing the opposite chair out with his foot. "How are things going?"
"Thanks, sir," W'ton says as he sits down and takes a drink from his glass before setting it on the table. "Oh, things're going pretty good right now I think, sir. Chasing after chalky rope in the sky is a treat for Dasarth. We ain't set anyone on fire yet either which is good." One hand lifts to rub his bald scalp. "Thankfully I have no hair to risk losing."
"Did everyone else fare so well?" R'uen asks with a smirk, eyes flicking up to the bald curve of W'ton's head. He can't help but lift a hand to his own head, to brush over his dark scruffy hair. "So Dasarth likes it, what do you think?"
"I think I'm kind of glad it's not for real, sir. But it's fun." W'ton lowers his voice like he's going to be overheard. "Even he thinks it's fun although he'd never admit it." What a thrilling confession. "But there were no real mistakes. Some clothes were the worst of it at least that I know of. Oh, there was a singed tail. D'tori's Prianoth."
R'uen leaves his hand atop his head, or his forearm really; it just rests there. "Yeah, I'm glad it's not for real, too. I don't really like to think about how it would feel to send the wings to fight, get the injury reports, or worse. Leading one wing was enough." His mouth twists to the side. "At the same time, sometimes, messed up at as it is, part of me does miss it."
Another drink for W'ton as he listens to what the other man says. "Well, it's what we're supposed to do, right? I mean riders fight thread and when there's no thread it kind of feels like you're on the sidelines of a game." His glass is set down once more and he gestures around. "We're all on the sidelines just keeping things going for the next team." Now his lips turn up into a grin as he says, "Speaking of games in a manner of speaking. Got a question for ya, sir."
"I think so. I think we're destined to feel a bit... like there's something more we should be doing. Holding down the patterns for the next team will just have to be enough." R'uen leans back in his seat, the front legs of the chair lifting off the ground. He takes a drink and jerks his chin for W'ton to go ahead and ask. "Let's hear it."
"Well, that punching bag you got for the barracks?" W'ton asks with a glance at his fingers. Hands that never touched it having better ways to relieve anger. "I was wondering who made it. And if you knew how much having one made might cost?" Lifting his drink he leaves it by his lips as he adds, "It's a gift for turnover for someone," before taking a pull of his ale.
The punching bag. R'uen's brows go up. Whatever he might have expected next, that wasn't on the list. "Oh yeah. I had Jatrak make it," he says, naming one of the Weyr's tanners. "It, well, it wasn't cheap, but I bet you could talk to him about your options. Skip the suede, try a different filling... Who are you shopping for?"
Leaning back just a bit in his chair W'ton's got a roguish grin ready for that question. "Ah, sir, it's a surprise for someone. I'd rather keep it all to myself. The fewer who know the less chance someone will let something slip." He stops and then shakes his head. "It'll cut into my new wardrobe marks I imagine, but a proper gift is worth the time and effort. Jatrak. Don't suppose you'd be willing sell me that used one in there and have a new one made for incoming weyrlings when that happens next?"
"A proper gift is worth the time and effort, but you'd rather have one that's been all used by a bunch of grumpy weyrlings?" R'uen laughs a bit at that and lets his arm slip from his head so both hands can slowly rotate his glass in place. "You're sure you wouldn't rather have a new one?" Which isn't exactly a 'no' to W'ton's question.
W'ton's willing to laugh as well to his contradiction. "Well, sir. I want the best I can get. And if I cannot afford to get one as good then I'd rather have one that was used." His hands fold on the table and he says, "Besides not all the weyrlings were grumpy when they used it. Some of them were just frustrated pure and simple, sir." Which has him chuckling again for whatever reason.
"Well, go talk to Jatrak. Maybe he can get you a better price, or work something out." R'uen frowns thoughtfully at his glass, mulling it all over and then rubbing the back of his head again. "Yeah, I don't think I can sell it to you. I'd just have to buy another one and it's pretty new, I'd be eating the difference and you wouldn't be saving much."
"Well, it was worth a shot," W'ton says with no concern in his voice. "I'd not have been doing my purse its due if I hadn't tried. I'll talk to Jatrak and see if he can help a poor weyrling out. I don't suppose you know anything I might bring to soften him up?" Because a good barter is only better with inside information.
"I doubt he'll need much softening," R'uen chuckles, his mouth quirked in a sideways grin. "Or that the soften would make much difference, really. He's a fair guy." With that, the Weyrleader tips back the rest of his ale and lets his chairlegs hit the floor again. "Maybe you can pay in increments or something, if you need to." He shifts his chair back, ready to get up.
"You're just no help, sir," W'ton says in a such a mournful tone. Of course he's grinning soon enough and lifting his glass. "Thanks for the information though. I'll have to see if it can be done in time or else worry about some other turnover gift. I appreciate your time, sir."
"Well, I will say, it didn't take too long to get it done for the barracks. You probably have enough time." Standing up, R'uen rubs the side of his nose and squints a bit. "Good luck, though. Sounds like a pretty fancy turnover gift."
With a pint to finish W'ton's not quick to leave. He nods to R'uen and offers him a rather lazy salute from his seat. "Thanks again, sir." He'll stay there until his drink is done and not linger any longer. He was a man on a mission in here.
Where: The Glass Fountain
When: After dinner on day 2, month 12, turn 19
What: W'ton's got a question for R'uen regarding a way to acquire a gift for a certain lady for turnover.
It's after dinner now and the after-dinner crowd has settled in. While R'uen isn't always among them, his presence here, catching up with riders and residents alike, is not at all unusual. Tonight he's got himself a table and a pint of ale and a companion who is just getting up try his luck with a girl at the bar, leaving the Weyrleader alone with his drink.
W'ton's not much of a drinker so he's by no means a regular patron here in the Glass Fountain. In enough to at least be able to grin at the barmaid before ordering a pint for himself and speaking to the bartender. He nods in return and once the weyrling has his drink he looks around and spotting R'uen heads over to his table. "Evening, sir. Got company or mind if I sit for a bit?"
R'uen looks just a touch surprised to be approached by the weyrling, but whatever hint of it is in his expression gets covered up by a ready grin. "Got a seat for you right here," he answers, pushing the opposite chair out with his foot. "How are things going?"
"Thanks, sir," W'ton says as he sits down and takes a drink from his glass before setting it on the table. "Oh, things're going pretty good right now I think, sir. Chasing after chalky rope in the sky is a treat for Dasarth. We ain't set anyone on fire yet either which is good." One hand lifts to rub his bald scalp. "Thankfully I have no hair to risk losing."
"Did everyone else fare so well?" R'uen asks with a smirk, eyes flicking up to the bald curve of W'ton's head. He can't help but lift a hand to his own head, to brush over his dark scruffy hair. "So Dasarth likes it, what do you think?"
"I think I'm kind of glad it's not for real, sir. But it's fun." W'ton lowers his voice like he's going to be overheard. "Even he thinks it's fun although he'd never admit it." What a thrilling confession. "But there were no real mistakes. Some clothes were the worst of it at least that I know of. Oh, there was a singed tail. D'tori's Prianoth."
R'uen leaves his hand atop his head, or his forearm really; it just rests there. "Yeah, I'm glad it's not for real, too. I don't really like to think about how it would feel to send the wings to fight, get the injury reports, or worse. Leading one wing was enough." His mouth twists to the side. "At the same time, sometimes, messed up at as it is, part of me does miss it."
Another drink for W'ton as he listens to what the other man says. "Well, it's what we're supposed to do, right? I mean riders fight thread and when there's no thread it kind of feels like you're on the sidelines of a game." His glass is set down once more and he gestures around. "We're all on the sidelines just keeping things going for the next team." Now his lips turn up into a grin as he says, "Speaking of games in a manner of speaking. Got a question for ya, sir."
"I think so. I think we're destined to feel a bit... like there's something more we should be doing. Holding down the patterns for the next team will just have to be enough." R'uen leans back in his seat, the front legs of the chair lifting off the ground. He takes a drink and jerks his chin for W'ton to go ahead and ask. "Let's hear it."
"Well, that punching bag you got for the barracks?" W'ton asks with a glance at his fingers. Hands that never touched it having better ways to relieve anger. "I was wondering who made it. And if you knew how much having one made might cost?" Lifting his drink he leaves it by his lips as he adds, "It's a gift for turnover for someone," before taking a pull of his ale.
The punching bag. R'uen's brows go up. Whatever he might have expected next, that wasn't on the list. "Oh yeah. I had Jatrak make it," he says, naming one of the Weyr's tanners. "It, well, it wasn't cheap, but I bet you could talk to him about your options. Skip the suede, try a different filling... Who are you shopping for?"
Leaning back just a bit in his chair W'ton's got a roguish grin ready for that question. "Ah, sir, it's a surprise for someone. I'd rather keep it all to myself. The fewer who know the less chance someone will let something slip." He stops and then shakes his head. "It'll cut into my new wardrobe marks I imagine, but a proper gift is worth the time and effort. Jatrak. Don't suppose you'd be willing sell me that used one in there and have a new one made for incoming weyrlings when that happens next?"
"A proper gift is worth the time and effort, but you'd rather have one that's been all used by a bunch of grumpy weyrlings?" R'uen laughs a bit at that and lets his arm slip from his head so both hands can slowly rotate his glass in place. "You're sure you wouldn't rather have a new one?" Which isn't exactly a 'no' to W'ton's question.
W'ton's willing to laugh as well to his contradiction. "Well, sir. I want the best I can get. And if I cannot afford to get one as good then I'd rather have one that was used." His hands fold on the table and he says, "Besides not all the weyrlings were grumpy when they used it. Some of them were just frustrated pure and simple, sir." Which has him chuckling again for whatever reason.
"Well, go talk to Jatrak. Maybe he can get you a better price, or work something out." R'uen frowns thoughtfully at his glass, mulling it all over and then rubbing the back of his head again. "Yeah, I don't think I can sell it to you. I'd just have to buy another one and it's pretty new, I'd be eating the difference and you wouldn't be saving much."
"Well, it was worth a shot," W'ton says with no concern in his voice. "I'd not have been doing my purse its due if I hadn't tried. I'll talk to Jatrak and see if he can help a poor weyrling out. I don't suppose you know anything I might bring to soften him up?" Because a good barter is only better with inside information.
"I doubt he'll need much softening," R'uen chuckles, his mouth quirked in a sideways grin. "Or that the soften would make much difference, really. He's a fair guy." With that, the Weyrleader tips back the rest of his ale and lets his chairlegs hit the floor again. "Maybe you can pay in increments or something, if you need to." He shifts his chair back, ready to get up.
"You're just no help, sir," W'ton says in a such a mournful tone. Of course he's grinning soon enough and lifting his glass. "Thanks for the information though. I'll have to see if it can be done in time or else worry about some other turnover gift. I appreciate your time, sir."
"Well, I will say, it didn't take too long to get it done for the barracks. You probably have enough time." Standing up, R'uen rubs the side of his nose and squints a bit. "Good luck, though. Sounds like a pretty fancy turnover gift."
With a pint to finish W'ton's not quick to leave. He nods to R'uen and offers him a rather lazy salute from his seat. "Thanks again, sir." He'll stay there until his drink is done and not linger any longer. He was a man on a mission in here.