[LOG] Repercussions.
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)
A series of glows fashioned as torches line the path and ramp into the Sandbar, making the black volcanic sands of the beach glitter as the star-spangled night spreads across the sky above. Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar.
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
Having devoted a great deal of his day to work that ate into his roaming time, K'aus has decided to put himself at a table in the Sandbar with some drinks and a game of solitaire. During the evening he has taken it upon himself to leer blatantly at pretty girls and stare unsettlingly at other men. Right now he is doing neither of those things, he is taking a sip of his brown drink-with-ice of choice and mulling over his next move.
An'dren's not often seen in the Sandbar anymore, but even he needs a drink every now and again. A bright blue one, mixed with some fruit juice but mostly a strange combination of alcohols. "Thanks," he says, sliding a coin across the bar, and turns around to examine the room, looking for an empty table or a party to crash. He'd somehow missed K'aus coming in, but he sees him now; it's only a matter of time before he's headed that way, nevermind what the brownrider is or is not currently doing. His greeting's not much of one at all, just a flat, "So I hear you've been playing Weyrleader."
K'aus must not have seen An'dren either, or he did and he doesn't mind the idea of being caught. Which he is when the Weyrleader finds him: both caught and unconcerned. He looks up from the cards to give the younger of them his full attention, his brows lifted and his mouth slack. Indifferent. "Wow that got back to you fast. I wonder which one it was, the brunette? That pretty little blond thing from Boll? Or maybe the simple country girl from Keroon." His pleased smirk might be hidden behind his glass when he takes another drink, maybe.
"Doesn't matter," An'dren says, unfazed. "I'm letting it slide this time, but there will be repercussions if I hear of you impersonating me again. Which I won't, because it's not going to happen." He doesn't care if there really is a brunnete, a blond from Boll, and a country girl from Keroon. He just cares that K'aus doesn't do it again, and looking down at him like that, expression hard and with all that added height from K'aus being seated, he might actually be serious. He's getting the hang of this whole being boss business, sort of.
He looks up at An'dren with his mouth pushed out. "Hm." And nevermind the sly tilt of it when he looks down instead, down at the cards arranged in various stacks on the table. He turns one over face-up and idly asks, "What kind of repercussions?" Back up to Andy, quite serious, "Have a seat, boss," with strange, irreverent emphasis on that last word.
"That's not important." The invitation surprises him, and it shows, briefly, in the lift of his eyebrows. This isn't how these things're supposed to go, is it? You reprimand someone, make sure they understand, and leave, hopefully never having to have the conversation again. Andy's gaze flicks to the cards and back, assessing, and then he takes the proferred seat -- surprising himself, maybe, because after he sits, there's something a little wary in the way he watches K'aus. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
For his part K'aus puts on a pleasant enough, if not particularly warm smile and slowly pushes the cards into a pile that he can gather together and shuffle, which he does. "Yeah there is. You'll need another one of those, you want another blue thing, it's on me, hey." A glance at the bartender and a gesture at the Weyrleader's drink is enough; he resumes. "So here's the thing, telling new people that I'm you and then going out of my way to disturb and offend them beyond my usual is annoying and sure, eventually it won't work anymore and I'll be totally debunked. But that's not even the beginning of how insufferable I can actually be and to be quite honest it's child's play." Right around then that new blue thing comes along because it isn't all that busy in here.
An'dren doesn't need a new blue thing; he's barely started on the one he has. Still, though, K'aus gets a nod of thanks, but now he's even more wary, fingers playing against the glass, reflecting back blue. And then K'aus is speaking, and yeah, okay, /that's/ why Andy's being wary. His eyes narrow slightly, and when the brownrider's done and the new drink's arrived, he asks, "Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm telling you-- thanks," for the waitress, and that sly smile again while he watches her go, but then back to business, "I'm telling you because I think you should know that I can work for you or against you. And I want to give you the chance to decide which way this is gonna go." K'aus sets the cards aside and clasps his fingers together in front of him. "It's been a long time since I was anything other than what I am. I want a promotion." His tongue makes a bulge in his cheek from the inside while he watches An'dren closely.
The hand goes still, and An'dren looks at K'aus over the rim of his drink, eyes widening, disbelieving. Then he leans back, a finger hooked around the base of his glass, and shakes his head. "No," he says. "That's not how this is going to work. I'm not going to bribe you to behave. You want a promotion, you're going to have to earn it, not make threats and hope I'm nervous enough to give in." He's just sat down, but he pushes back his chair anyways, its legs scraping against the floor as he prepares to stand. "Is that all?"
"Threats are cheap and pointless, Andy." K'aus's voice has taken on a hard edge, all trace of play gone. And then in the next moment he's smiling again. "Trust me, if I plan on doing something I'm not going to /tell/ you about it for fuck's sake. That'd be crazy. Even for me." He takes another drink and perhaps the Weyrleader's gotten up by now, perhaps not. Either way he doesn't seem to care. After swallowing like he's just had the most refreshing thing in the world he adds, "I'm asking you to consider it. And let me know what you think. And think about those repercussions. Think about how it would make Ista look if you transferred some old, troublesome rider to some poor Weyr to deal with. If any would even take me."
Andy's up, drink in one hand, his other braced against the back of the chair to slide it beneath the table. "I'll consider it," he says, and the way he says it, seems like he's thinking more about those repercussions than the promotion K'aus had asked for. He nods at the older rider, and then he's headed out, one blue thing remembered only because he's already holding it and the second left behind. Maybe the brownrider'll enjoy it; he's paying for it, anyways.
A series of glows fashioned as torches line the path and ramp into the Sandbar, making the black volcanic sands of the beach glitter as the star-spangled night spreads across the sky above. Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar.
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
Having devoted a great deal of his day to work that ate into his roaming time, K'aus has decided to put himself at a table in the Sandbar with some drinks and a game of solitaire. During the evening he has taken it upon himself to leer blatantly at pretty girls and stare unsettlingly at other men. Right now he is doing neither of those things, he is taking a sip of his brown drink-with-ice of choice and mulling over his next move.
An'dren's not often seen in the Sandbar anymore, but even he needs a drink every now and again. A bright blue one, mixed with some fruit juice but mostly a strange combination of alcohols. "Thanks," he says, sliding a coin across the bar, and turns around to examine the room, looking for an empty table or a party to crash. He'd somehow missed K'aus coming in, but he sees him now; it's only a matter of time before he's headed that way, nevermind what the brownrider is or is not currently doing. His greeting's not much of one at all, just a flat, "So I hear you've been playing Weyrleader."
K'aus must not have seen An'dren either, or he did and he doesn't mind the idea of being caught. Which he is when the Weyrleader finds him: both caught and unconcerned. He looks up from the cards to give the younger of them his full attention, his brows lifted and his mouth slack. Indifferent. "Wow that got back to you fast. I wonder which one it was, the brunette? That pretty little blond thing from Boll? Or maybe the simple country girl from Keroon." His pleased smirk might be hidden behind his glass when he takes another drink, maybe.
"Doesn't matter," An'dren says, unfazed. "I'm letting it slide this time, but there will be repercussions if I hear of you impersonating me again. Which I won't, because it's not going to happen." He doesn't care if there really is a brunnete, a blond from Boll, and a country girl from Keroon. He just cares that K'aus doesn't do it again, and looking down at him like that, expression hard and with all that added height from K'aus being seated, he might actually be serious. He's getting the hang of this whole being boss business, sort of.
He looks up at An'dren with his mouth pushed out. "Hm." And nevermind the sly tilt of it when he looks down instead, down at the cards arranged in various stacks on the table. He turns one over face-up and idly asks, "What kind of repercussions?" Back up to Andy, quite serious, "Have a seat, boss," with strange, irreverent emphasis on that last word.
"That's not important." The invitation surprises him, and it shows, briefly, in the lift of his eyebrows. This isn't how these things're supposed to go, is it? You reprimand someone, make sure they understand, and leave, hopefully never having to have the conversation again. Andy's gaze flicks to the cards and back, assessing, and then he takes the proferred seat -- surprising himself, maybe, because after he sits, there's something a little wary in the way he watches K'aus. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
For his part K'aus puts on a pleasant enough, if not particularly warm smile and slowly pushes the cards into a pile that he can gather together and shuffle, which he does. "Yeah there is. You'll need another one of those, you want another blue thing, it's on me, hey." A glance at the bartender and a gesture at the Weyrleader's drink is enough; he resumes. "So here's the thing, telling new people that I'm you and then going out of my way to disturb and offend them beyond my usual is annoying and sure, eventually it won't work anymore and I'll be totally debunked. But that's not even the beginning of how insufferable I can actually be and to be quite honest it's child's play." Right around then that new blue thing comes along because it isn't all that busy in here.
An'dren doesn't need a new blue thing; he's barely started on the one he has. Still, though, K'aus gets a nod of thanks, but now he's even more wary, fingers playing against the glass, reflecting back blue. And then K'aus is speaking, and yeah, okay, /that's/ why Andy's being wary. His eyes narrow slightly, and when the brownrider's done and the new drink's arrived, he asks, "Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm telling you-- thanks," for the waitress, and that sly smile again while he watches her go, but then back to business, "I'm telling you because I think you should know that I can work for you or against you. And I want to give you the chance to decide which way this is gonna go." K'aus sets the cards aside and clasps his fingers together in front of him. "It's been a long time since I was anything other than what I am. I want a promotion." His tongue makes a bulge in his cheek from the inside while he watches An'dren closely.
The hand goes still, and An'dren looks at K'aus over the rim of his drink, eyes widening, disbelieving. Then he leans back, a finger hooked around the base of his glass, and shakes his head. "No," he says. "That's not how this is going to work. I'm not going to bribe you to behave. You want a promotion, you're going to have to earn it, not make threats and hope I'm nervous enough to give in." He's just sat down, but he pushes back his chair anyways, its legs scraping against the floor as he prepares to stand. "Is that all?"
"Threats are cheap and pointless, Andy." K'aus's voice has taken on a hard edge, all trace of play gone. And then in the next moment he's smiling again. "Trust me, if I plan on doing something I'm not going to /tell/ you about it for fuck's sake. That'd be crazy. Even for me." He takes another drink and perhaps the Weyrleader's gotten up by now, perhaps not. Either way he doesn't seem to care. After swallowing like he's just had the most refreshing thing in the world he adds, "I'm asking you to consider it. And let me know what you think. And think about those repercussions. Think about how it would make Ista look if you transferred some old, troublesome rider to some poor Weyr to deal with. If any would even take me."
Andy's up, drink in one hand, his other braced against the back of the chair to slide it beneath the table. "I'll consider it," he says, and the way he says it, seems like he's thinking more about those repercussions than the promotion K'aus had asked for. He nods at the older rider, and then he's headed out, one blue thing remembered only because he's already holding it and the second left behind. Maybe the brownrider'll enjoy it; he's paying for it, anyways.