[LOG] Sharing is caring.

[biteymonster]

The nice day has turned into a nice night, a breeze cutting through the summer stickiness. The doors of the tavern and all of its windows are thrown open to encourage the draft, much needed with the press of bodies thickened by visitors from the tithe train. A large party has just abandoned their table to stumble off into the darkness, so June sweeps in to clear the mess they've left, gathering emptied beer bottles in between the fingers of one hand and reordering chairs with the other.

June is distracted then, so she probably doesn't notice K'aus come in. One of the other sisters might but he isn't here for them, and if they try to intercept him he will politely (for him) brush them off. He isn't interested in a table, except for the one she cleans; he isn't interested in a bottle, except for those she's collecting. "I can help with those," he announces, and maybe she noticed him before he's suddenly there, at her side, already trying to take the bottles from her.

June's momentum keeps her going around the bend of the table after he's been spotted, at least until he steps in to impede it. The bottles he's going for are smoothly drawn out of his immediate reach, though, pulled tight against her side. Gently, with a quiet little smile, she insists, "It's my job." And then she continues, nudging the chair next to her under the table with a swift scratch of its legs. "And you're a customer." Even if he isn't exactly paying for anything right now.

At this point he could say something about how he might consider himself more than a customer, but didn't they have like a whole discussion about that and stuff? And he /is/ here on a mission, sort-of, and he knows how she is. K'aus holds up his hands, fine, and takes one of the chairs she hasn't pushed in yet. There. "I'll need to see a menu and you really should talk to someone about cleaning up around here," he mutters, scooting himself in so he can lace his fingers up top. He turns a blank, innocent look up at her.

June watches him take that seat, a smile springing up only when he's settled and speaking again. "I'll makes sure and talk to the owner," she assures him just as softly, glancing at him while she leans over the table in front of him to snag the last two bottles. "Anything else I can get you?" she asks more seriously, leaning a hip against the table while she waits out his answer, bottles dangling from her fingers and clinking faintly.

He's running his palm over the table's surface next, then inspecting that and making a face. "Hm?" He glances up just in time to see the lovely view her leaning over has afforded him, spends a mature moment staring, then meets June's eyes. "Yeah, actually." K'aus's lean is much less provocative and more for the appearances of sharing a secret. "How about some story time. You and me. One of those rooms. I promise I can make it up the stairs this time."

June considers the proposition of story time with a slightly squinted gaze, but that disappears easily enough after a softly heaved breath. "Alright," she assents, nodding once before she pushes off of the table and heads off in the direction of the bar. "Come get your key," she tells him over her shoulder before she's stepped too far. She doesn't wait for him, though, she just trusts he'll follow while she continues on in the task she had before he came.

'Alright' is all he needed to hear to abandon his chair with a sudden shove back and even hastier standing. And as he is very much himself, K'aus doesn't bother to push his chair in when he's done with it, instead he follows along on June's heels. Fast forward to a few moments later, after he's acquired 'his key' and used it on the usual room upstairs, thankfully it's vacant. Once inside he goes to one of those chairs and re-seats himself, clasping his hands loosely in his lap.

When June joins him upstairs she's minus a few empty beer bottles and plus one full one, the usual just for him. She slides it down onto the little table in front of him, then takes the bed for herself, at first just sitting on the edge, but a moment later she lowers herself back to lie perpendicular across the bed and stare at the ceiling. "So are these my stories, or are you planning on treating me to one of your own." The dryness of her voice brings out a subtle humor. She knows already.

K'aus thanks her for the bottle by not assaulting her with questions or comment until she's made it known she's ready for either. Only after she's taken her place there on the bed, and it's almost routine now, he opens the beer and takes a drink, swallowing during her rhetorical. "Oh gee I don't know, I hadn't thought about it beyond that there are things here that we don't know. What was that, this Kozec guy beat you?" He'd never think of wasting time; that would just be wasteful.

June shifts to get comfortable, little leans or nestlings that all end up with her snagging a pillow from the top of the bed to place under her head. "He did," she tells him when everything is all settled and she's comfortable. Her eyes slant over to meet his before she lets them slip closed. "I told you that he was a bad sort of client. That's what a bad sort of client does." Most of her is comfortable, but something is missing. Ah yes, the shoes, those come off with a tiny one-two kick soon after she finishes.

He was a bad sort of client. K'aus's eyebrows come up. That what a bad sort of client does. K'aus's eyebrows come down. They bunch up, actually, over his suddenly very intent gaze, which does not want to leave June. "Is that-- what the fuck." Pain or no, he shifts to lean his elbows on his knees and lets the bottle dangle from one hand. "So some guy beats you and that's just a bad sort of client, Junavie, come on." He lets that sit, then adds, "How long ago did he do it. How long ago did that fucker bring you into a room like this one and lay his fucking hands on you like that."

The use of her full name cracks an eye open and in the pause that follows she abandons her repose altogether and props herself up into a nearly straight sit. "First of all," she says, maintaining a level head despite all the cussing, "calm down. This was... over four turns ago. And yes, he was a bad sort of client. They may be rare, but they happen." All of it is delivered as soothingly as she can manage, considering the subject. "It happened, and it's over."

"It isn't fucking over, for fuck's sake." K'aus is standing now, with only a bare amount of struggling to actually get out of the chair, and gesturing with his bottle. "Look, I get that it's scary and I get that it's fucking awful but this guy is fucking /here/, okay, he's done horrible fucking things and he's /here/. I'm not crazy, okay, I'm not fucking crazy."

June's gaze follows his rise, remaining steady and calm where he doesn't. "I know that you're not crazy," she assures him first. "But what happened to me happened a long time ago and now that he's here, we're taking every precaution to make sure it doesn't happen again. Getting upset isn't going to help anything, so you need to calm down, or I'm done talking." The ultimatum is like a balm, cool but to a mitigating effect. One hand lifts and gently pats the bed next to her, an invitation to a calmer posture.

"You know I'm not crazy, well that makes one of you. All those people on the dock, they thought I was crazy. I'm a lot of fucking things but I'm not--" She pats the bed. K'aus isn't all that opposed to the idea, or else he wouldn't, after a brief spat of reluctance, come to join her there after he sets his bottle down on the table a little more roughly than necessary. His weight on the bed is heavy, his shoulders slumping and his hands between his knees. His eyes squint. "There may be a detail or two you don't know," comes after a while.

Well, he's sitting now, but he's still not quite as calm as June would want him, so she summons her sagging energies to pull herself to her knees on the bed and maneuver around behind him. "I thought that might be the case," she admits as her hands settle tenderly over his shoulders, their kneading beginning gingerly at first. He could still be breakable, after all. "Go ahead," she encourages when she's firmly settled into place.

/His/ hands dig their heels into his eyes while she puts hers on him from behind. It's likely that even if June's touch does hurt him he won't say anything, it's a welcome distraction regardless. And because he's already dug himself in this deep and because if this isn't the proper setting then what is?, K'aus takes a deep breath and unravels, his voice is low and rough. "The girl he killed, she was this harper. She wrote songs and she'd like sing them-- anyway. She was posted just outside Bitra right after it started falling again, Thread, but there were these people there, they had the whole place nailed down, these really dangerous, bad people. And she went, even though I-- someone told her not to." There's a small pause before this, "I met him, I was, I lived at Fort then. That Kozec guy. I knew what he was doing. I told her not to go. Shit, I can still see her face." He's covering his with both hands.

June is just a pair of hands, manipulating his much-abused muscles with a touch that gradually warms to firm but never quite gets there. Then comes her voice, a murmur from the silence that he sinks into, "K'aus." She doesn't continue on into any other empty-seeming expressions of sympathy or condolence, the utterance of his name is heavy with all the heartbreak she could otherwise express. Still left without the few threads needed to stitch the whole story together, she waits a beat and asks quietly, "Who was she?"

K'aus remains as-is, bent and leaning on his knees, head in his hands with his fingers splayed in his hair. One or more of her massaging rubs nudges him this way or that, his foundation a little unstable at the moment. There's no chance he didn't hear her question but it's a while before he answers it, his hands moving from to his mouth and then to his lap again. He turns, just enough to look at her over his shoulder. There is a very mysterious leak in the corner of one of his eyes. "Her name was Marin."

The revelation has power enough to interrupt the massage entirely, June's fingers falling ineffectual against his spine. She knows that name, knows what it means. A deep exhale plunges into the space between them, pressing heat through his shirt as she lowers her forehead to bump against his shoulder blade. It takes her a moment to summon words, but they come eventually, and simple though they are, they remain full and weighted. "K'aus, I'm sorry." Her hands find their way again, but the massage is derailed; she just cups her palms against the bend of his lower back. She continues, "I'm sorry I said..." but the attempt is aborted weakly with another stiff breath.

June is allowed the solid span of his back, every inch of it, to lean on or rest against however she pleases. Her apology lowers his eyes, lifts his hand to the one tear, or something like it, to catch it on his fingers and stare down at it, completely mystified. "It's fine," he says quickly, clearing his throat when his voice proves to be clouded. Awkwardly he keeps his gaze down. It's taking him a second. "I found her in the woods. Off one of the caravan roads. I don't know what happened or how they got her out there."

June abandons her post altogether, gathering herself back to his side where she sat to begin with, or near enough to it, since her legs remain curled on the bed. Her hands conform to the sides of his jaw and provide a gentle guide to draw his gaze up to her, though she's not insistent enough to force the issue if he resists. Earnest eyes seeking out his, she asserts firmly, "No one should have to see that." A beat, and she adds, "No one should have to... deal with that. Especially alone. No one." Her hands fall out of necessity, to keep her at the angle that allows her to maintain eye contact. "I can't imagine," she mumbles when she settles into that propped position.

She'll find him as pliable under the guide of her hands as he's ever been, which is to say very. K'aus's eyes are slow to move with his chin, dragging a little until they meet hers like she meant. He swallows, his jaw gone slack in her gentle grip. It isn't until she releases him that he speaks again, as if that was all that was holding him back. "This isn't about me, June. I'm what, some stupid old bastard with a complex, I've been dead for a lot longer than she has. But she was good and innocent and she didn't deserve to die like that." She'll find his hand sneaking in to take one of hers, to fold it up in his bigger palm. "You didn't deserve what he did to you."

He begins to speak and June moves her head subtly, a shadowed hint of a head shake. But whatever mote of disagreement that's there, it's buried beneath the rest that he has to say. "It doesn't matter," June replies to the last, eyes dropping from his finally, to follow the movement, unimpeded by her, of his hand. "It happened, and I was lucky," she adds rationally, voice retreating from the emotion-laden tones she'd dropped into. "I'm still here," she says, a touch of hesitance joined by a dart of a glance before she continues, "thankfully, and I'm smarter." A heaved breath, then, "He's not going to do it again." Empty promises, maybe, but comforting ones all the same.

Her dart of a glance finds him still watching her as though the thought didn't affect him. If not for the very subtle tension in his jaw she might never know. "Still here," he agrees absently, he too dropping his gaze for the sight of their hands, his long fingers curling protectively. "I told her we were gonna be safe and I was wrong. I couldn't keep her safe at all. But I promised her, after, that I would find him and make him pay and to hell with anything else. Between you and me we know what's up. So no. He's not gonna do it again." Even if they are empty...

June says nothing more in response, expressing her agreement with a silent nodding of her head, strong at first and trailing off into nothing. Her gaze drops from a listening attentiveness to their hands once again and, so gently, she extricates hers, reclaiming it to put it to a more suitable task, which happens to be stroking reassuringly up and down his back. A failed attempt to speak, maybe, her next breath is a heavy one before she settles down into a more even, contemplative rhythm.

He has nothing to do with his hand now so he jerkily assumes again that lean from before, elbows on knees, and stares ahead while she rubs the tension out of him. Even if it doesn't wholly work it's appreciated and June receives small things like that deep sigh as proof she's doing good. K'aus's voice comes again though. "That was almost ten years ago but I don't think I've ever not thought about it. I don't tell people. The people who know what happened aren't here. She's deader than dead and that's my fault, you're supposed to keep people alive in memories or something." His fingers lift to the chain around his neck to pluck at it idly while he mulls. Next is, "Do you wanna talk about what happened to you?" While they're at it.

The massaging bent of June's one hand gradually leaks away until it's just a trail of fingertips and nails, tracing an unpredictable pattern over his shirt. This may be because she's got only a small shred of attention on it, the rest directed squarely on his face. She nods understanding at what he says, replying with the small, soft-voiced comfort, "You still remember her." When the subject turns to her own difficulty, she's quick to find an answer for him, a simple, "No," and an explanation follows nearly as easily. "It was a long time ago," she adds with a measured calm, "and it's not something I'm proud of. I was taken in as easily as Valenia back then." The jaded thoughts sour her expression just a tad, lips pursed gently and her eyes gaining a harder squint.

That isn't good enough, so says his eyes rolling indifferently, but K'aus doesn't argue verbally with her on the subject. And when June answers him he turns sort of and his back straightens under her travelling fingers, all so that he can look at her and lean on his arm, hand planted in the bed in the small space between them. Also calm, his dark eyes watch her through that explanation, up to the change in her expression and through that as well. Eventually he bends his leg between them too, which will interrupt her attentions, and takes a breath. "Is that why you were so weird about me in the beginning? You know, like before I totally persuaded you and paid for your good mood and saved the day that one time. Did you think I was another one of those guys?"

June's hand falls away from that contact easily when he turns, ending up limp against her tucked knees, and her eyes lift effortlessly to meet his gaze, expression tweaked back to calm composure. "Yes," she answers after a beat and a blink, clarifying soon after. "But every new guy is one of those guys until he proves me wrong." She shrugs lightly for that precaution, that simple fact of her profession, then adds, "Fewer nasty surprises that way."

"I can see how that would be preferable. The... fewer surprises part, I mean." K'aus's blinks are several and quick and he clears his throat again, this time for no apparent reason. They sit there like that, he with one foot on the floor, leaning on his arm. And then, "I don't know what I did to earn your trust June but I wanna keep it, I'm not gonna fuck up again. So listen, I was thinking about this, if I stay here and there's trouble then I can actually do something about it. So maybe for like a month, how much would that cost me."

Though she may be warding off the nasty kind, June isn't quite as immune to the littler surprises like the one he lobs at her just now. Only silence comes from her parted lips as she blinks over the idea, until she can formulate the two words, "A lot." Another glance at him affirms he wants an actual figure, so she lifts her gaze to push numbers around on the ceiling, returning shortly with the total. "At the normal rate," she's quick to add. "But that's a ridiculous amount, I would never charge that much for you... doing us a favor." The jury's still out on how much of a discount would cut into that total, but the calculations are surely filing through the back of her mind, along with considerations for rules and protocol, for her gaze glazes over and wanders a bit with the effort. "What about Ehrudith?" she wonders idly in among it all.

There's no startled surprise when she comes up with that total, only a blank nod and K'aus's gaze unfocusing a little as well. He too is delving into the figures within his head, sorting through numbers, remembering expenditures, adding. "I just need a room," he adds, distracted, when she mentions 'favor'. "Maybe not a month, maybe even just, I don't know, like a few weeks." Which sort of sounds like a month. Her concern for the dragon brings him out of his inner workings to stare at her. "Kind of you to wonder, he'll stay on the ledge or on the beach, whichever he feels like as per his usual. I used to like stay at the Hall sometimes, uh... Harper Hall, anyway he's used to improvising. So you come up with a figure," this part is soft, "and let me know."

June's gaze wavers when he mentions the Harper Hall, but it lasts only a couple of seconds before she realizes it's only compounding the awkwardness of the moment and draws her eye back. She leaves his past where it should be, though, and concerns herself with matters more under her control. "We, ah. Normally those who stay in one of our rooms," and she slips into businesslike tones, a pitch like she would give an other potential spender, but with a softened touch, "also get meals, laundry service, a modest drink allowance, included. If they want them." She tilts her head, eyes dropping more thoughtfully than awkwardly, this time; they flash back up to meet his as she says neutrally, "It'd be the same for you." Of course, if he opted for just a room, it would be just a room.

"I can get food from the Weyr, I can definitely take my laundry to the Weyr, even if the thought of you or one of your sisters touching my underwear gets me a little excited. Even if I'm not actually in them at the time." Consider him opted out. But, "I like drinks though. And I don't really see bringing the bar down as an option, sadly. So I'll take those. And I'll pay for extras." And K'aus will pause as well, meeting her eyes and giving her a little half-smile that just barely makes it. His breath hitches on this, "You tried to be my friend that night and I just fucked you. I don't know what's wrong with me." She's heard that before. "But I'm sorry for being a prick. I'm just not good at this stuff."

June rolls her eyes briefly for what turns him on, levity peeking through in a loosening of the tension around her mouth. The change doesn't last, a certain alertness returning to her expression when he brings up that night. "Don't be sorry," she returns smoothly, the wry, subtly-tipped smile that sprung up when he called himself a prick still remaining. "You had some good points. And I was drunk." Not an apology, exactly, but there's some hinting at one in the undercurrent of her voice.

If he can't be sorry then she doesn't get to be either. "Okay so we both fucked up, deal." Finally he responds to her smile by giving her another one, he even lets a laugh come through his nose. It's a special talent. His teeth are showing while he chews on his lip before he adds, "Hey listen, while we're making deals do you mind not mentioning any of this to anyone? I mean I don't want anyone knowing I'm some sad sack of shit on top of everything else. Except you. You can know." She won't use it against him. /She's/ earned that trust. "But nobody else. It's... it's my thing, you know?" K'aus watches her face carefully. Does she? "I won't tell anyone about your thing. Here, pinky promise me." There's his pinky.

June listens to him without a shift in expression, and he'll have to find his way along without any little reassurances from her end. She waits until he's done to soften her lips into something more resembling her normal smile and to nod faintly. "I wasn't planning on telling a soul," she assures him quietly, looking down at his pinky for a second before moving to hook it with her own. The sight of their well-aged fingers engaged in the childish gesture is what finally pulls a bit of laughter from her, just a noiseless stirring of a chuckle as she watches the shake, shake, release.

"Okay good." K'aus bends his head down to keep eye contact while she laughs, his eyebrows lifted and his smile growing subtly. "If I catch on that you're breaking this really serious vow really awful things are gonna happen to you. Like maybe I'll never /speak/ to you again." Awful. His hand drops. He's quiet. Until. "It's kind of true what he was saying earlier. About me... protecting you and the girls." His hand flops weakly. He looks down at it. "Ah, I should probably go," sounds a little bit disgusted and precedes his getting up from the bed to stand over her and scratch the back of his head. His other hand fishes around in his pocket and comes up with marks.

"Really awful things," June mutters in an understanding echo, nodding her head gently over his example, feigning sobriety over the awfulness of it all. That sobriety sinks in deeper with what he says next and she gives up her smile in her attempt to come up with a response. Before she can, he's standing, brushing it all off, and she moves to follow him. He'll find his marks-sorting covered with her hand and guided back to the level of his pocket. "Don't worry about that now. Take it tonight," she says, other hand tossing a short gesture at the bed, "and I'll come up with a fair price for you in the morning. Go down, have a drink. Keep watch." The last is added on with all importance, her eyes steady on his. It is an appreciated effort, no matter what he thinks of his guard dog capabilities. "We only have so many eyes."

She accomplished pausing him at least, though he's a little reluctant to put his money away. K'aus squints his eyes at her, directs them at the bed when she gestures at it, back to her again. His head tilts radically to one side. "Is this like a charity thing, you feel bad for me so you're letting me off the hook. 'Cause I'll have you know sweetheart that there's nothing pathetic about me." Wait. He thinks that over and doesn't bother not being obvious about it. "At least not in this moment in time." But he listens, repockets, and squares his shoulders before bending his knees until he's at eye level with her. "Fourteen last I checked. Eyes. Up it two more then, we'll see how we do."

June drops her chin a bit, but keeps her eyes on K'aus, showing him just how much concern she has for charity. "It's a concession made for a friend," is how she phrases it instead, which is surely what she'll call the inevitable cut in rate he'll be receiving. She smiles shallowly when he drops to her level, running a look over his face before she responds, "We'll see," and turns for the door, telling him casually while she's opening it, "Don't forget to lock your door. When you're gone, when you're sleeping." A friendly reminder from his friendly innkeeper.

He's standing at his full height again as soon as she turns away from him. He's also in the middle of giving his new room a look over, like he's only just now seeing it, and maybe he kind of is, when she gives him that friendly reminder. A few blinks follow, his brow furrowed, but K'aus doesn't look concerned beyond that. A little perplexed, "Gotcha."

The noise from downstairs floods into being again with the opening of that thick door. June stands with her back to it, holding it open for him to lead the way out, and in doing so she catches the oddness in his expression. "What?" she asks simply, allowing her own brows to slant gently downward.

Caught! "What?" K'aus reanimates to perk his eyebrows at her. "Nothing." Quickly. And since she's opening the door for him and everything he won't make her wait around. Once they're both outside of it and it's closed, he gives her a pointed look while he aims the key at the lock, looking away only when he needs to to actually insert it. See? He remembered. After that he walks with her down the stairs and into the tavern proper, where he takes a seat at the bar and orders up his usual. Home sweet home-- for a price.