Who's your daddy... er, not like that. Well, sort of like that.
RL Date: 5/2/09
IC Date: 8/18/19
Living Cavern, Fort Weyr(#513RIJMas$)
The interior of the living cavern is luxurious, relatively speaking -- the walls are smoothed and there are wall sconces in addition to the myriad array of glow baskets and lamps used to keep the place well lit. It's a large space, suited to handle large numbers of people, with dozens of tables arranged strategically throughout; serving tables are also conveniently located at various intervals. Tapestries hang on the walls, many of them having been there for hundreds of turns and periodically taken down for cleaning and restoration.
Up a flight of stairs would be the kitchens, where much of the hustle and bustle can be heard, if not seen. Food is transported down via discretely located dumb waiters and dispersed by servers as necessary, but the aromas of food being prepared is as pervasive as the constant chatter of people as they drift through in search of food, drink, or company. Servers are generally available to assist and ensure that cups are filled and tables are cleaned regularly.
To the west is both the main entrance to the bowl and also the night hearth, which is kept stocked with fresh klah and pots of stew. Other hearths are scattered throughout, radiating heat and warmth as well as providing gathering spots for private discussions. To the east, a short flight of stairs leads down to the inner caverns, while a stout wooden door with a purple caduceus to the south leads to the infirmary.
As bright and beautiful as it's been of late at Fort Weyr, mid-afternoon doesn't see the high volume of people in the living cavern that the cooler months will likely bring. Of course, there are still plenty of folks kicking and pursuing various occupations. There's enough going on to entertain one idle old bluerider, in any case. O'rik has stationed himself at one long table, and if he ever had company at it they've already left. There's a plate of greasy looking finger-food hovering off beyond one elbow, heavily picked-over already and currently ignored in favor of watching a twenty-something year old couple that are have a quiet but heavily gestured little spat a few tables over.
"Please tell me you're not going to eat that." How she arrived there, how she went from the kitchen stairs to standing before the plate of greasy junk shall remain a mystery, perhaps lured by the spat, by the empty table, or by the sixth-sense tingle of knowing someone could use something better to eat. It's also hard to say if Jaeyi meant her own plate, with its smattering of caky-breads and berries and powdered-sugar-confections, to be shared, but she does tilt it in what's meant to be an eye-catching way. A spare glance finds time to realize the show in progress, and, based on the curious tilt of her head and twist of her mouth, she'll probably ask after that by and by.
That low-lidded gaze is slow to drag away from the couple, particularly since it's the young lady that is currently jerking her arms in exasperated little motions that resonate through her entire frame. The trajectory does pick up, however, as a testament to how effectively Jaeyi manages eye-catching. "Not gonna eat it," O'rik replies with smirking obedience. His elbows shift in their lean on the table top, propping him back a little further so the bluerider can get a better look at that plate and its holder. "Y'offering something better?"
Jaeyi gives the woman at that other table a look that, to a man, might not mean so much, but most other women would recognize it pretty clearly: poor effort, amateur. "I wonder what--" No, never mind, she distracts herself with her index finger pushing the offensive plate farther on down the table so a much nicer looking plate can take its place. All pretty, summer-colored trifles and berries mixed in. "Mmn, I am. I am, though that's hardly saying much, is it?" Empty of plate, her hand falls on the back of a chair. Pointedly.
That look in fact doesn't seem to mean much to O'rik, and he likewise isn't paying much mind to the arguers anymore. Not with something so appealing right under his nose. The shoved plate is followed with a glance through that start of its path before the man re-focuses on the pretty little desserty things. He's moving slow today, so it takes him a bit to unfold his arm and reach out to nab one of the least powdery looking nibbles. It's halfway back to his mouth before he gets around to parsing that pointed-ness. "Sit?" the bluerider half wonders, half offers before taking a bite that dusts crumbs into the scruff about his mouth.
"Thank you," like she didn't know it was coming, like there's any reason for Jaeyi to react so brightly to a monosyllable she was already expecting anyway. But she does sit, elbow on the table on the far side of the plate, absently tapping her an index finger along the edge of it like she's looking for... "There was supposed to be a little dish of caramel," not that there's a real lack of oh-my-god sugar on that plate as it is, but she looks beyond O'rik toward the kitchen stairs a moment, debating the effort of going back. "Anyway. I'm Jaeyi, the baker, and I don't think we've met?" Luckily, cheerful sixteen doesn't so much mind bearing the brunt of conversation, even if she might have fared better with-- oh, most of the rest of the cavern's occupants.
Right thumb and index knuckle lifting to drag around his mouth and displace most of the crumbs, that tap-tapping draws O'rik's attention. His eyes then follow her arm back up towards her face, though they take their good sweet time in doing so. "Think I would'a remembered." Teeth show a bit from the skewed smile he aims at her. "O'rik." And while his gaze stays locked on Jaeyi, he'll lift the bite of cake he's still got in his fingers. "You made this?" More assumed than asked. "Don' know it needs caramel. That sticky stuff, better hot, anyhow. Light and sweet better for summer, yeah?" And then he'll finish off the bite, leaving his thumb lingering against his teeth a moment to nibble off the layer of crumbs that stick there.
Not that there's a coy bone in her body, but Jaeyi still offers a close rendition of prettily flattered to ask, "Would you? Good." As to the cakes, the little sugary cookies with their powder or their thumb-prints of jam, even the artful display of berries all scattered among them, it's only a brief, vain, "Mmmmhmn." Vain in the way she sits up a little, leans back her shoulders, as on-display as the damn desserts in a way only slightly less palatable. "Though I'm sorry to hear you say that, O'rik. Light-and-sweet are all pleasant now and then, I suppose, but it's the warm-and-sticky treats that are my particular specialty." So saying, she pushes a square of yellowish cake all drizzled with purple syrup toward the edge of the plate nearer the bluerider. "Eat that." She'll watch.
The smile lingers behind his thumb as O'rik appreciates the display, dropping away with his hand into a more subtle expression that better fits the age-etched lines of his features. He gives a little shake of his head, and the length of his next breath borders on being a sigh. "Can imagine," the older bluerider drawls afterwards, and he really is imagining by the way his gaze skims over the baker's goods. It's only reluctantly that whiskey eyes drag down to that cake - suspiciously, even. "Purple?" a narrow sideways glance back to the girl. But he's lifting the cake. And with the stickiness having previously been advertised and the attention and all, he'll play at taking a lick of the syrup first before rolling the cake onto his tongue and bringing it in for a bite.
"Purple," echoes the girl in a /purple/ blouse, picking a /purple/ blackberry (really ought to rename that fruit) off the plate, waiting until O'rik's taken the risk of putting the cake in his mouth before the berry goes to a similar fate between her teeth. Really, though, Jaeyi's all eyes on the reaction to lemony cake with its drizzle of syrup, eyebrows lifted over a questioning expression. But the question has nothing to do with the cake, rather a throwback; "What can you imagine?" Let's be clear, that is /not/ an innocent question. Her chin put to her hand, her smile just on the verge of baiting, her eyes never dropping his even to spin the plate so there's more of the less-sticky cake made easier to reach.
Purple is very possibly O'rik's new favorite color. It's a good thing she's not questioning about the cake, because the only indication he gives regarding its taste is the speed in which it all disappears. The dab of syrup that got smeared on his few-day-old moustache is dispatched by a slow sweep of his tongue while he considers the baker and her question. "Y'look like quite a treat y'self," the bluerider settles on simply with a lascivious quirk of his mouth. "Aren't ya sweetheart?" And because it's somehow pertinent, "where'd ya come from?" He reaches towards the plate with his pinky, only the barest of glances given to be sure he's aiming for a bit of that purple syrup that was left behind on the edge.
No telling if Jaeyi's smile would have been quite so self-satisfied if he had answered the question. "Shall I be coy and say 'whatever do you mean?'" With a flutter of ridiculously long lashes and big, innocent eyes. "Or honest and confess that I'm rather envious of your upper lip about now?" As one good turn deserves another, she neglects to expound on her origins, preoccupied as she is with the task of using her index finger to push her lip in between her teeth. The term 'lascivious' is bound to get bandied back and forth between these two for a while, so might as well toss it in here for good measure: even the glance that goes up from the syrup-puddle-pinky to the bluerider's eyes has a quality of lascivious precisely matched to his smirk. "There's more cake." In case that was a concern.
Envious. A sigh of the sort that ends in a little growl breathes in O'rik's lungs. "Prefer honest." Despite having been vague himself, before. That finger-in-mouth of hers gets careful study. "So." His fingertip rolls slowly in the puddle. Partially because that way, it gets a good coating. The bluerider shifts, squaring his shoulders more towards Jaeyi. Because when that pinky lifts, it's held out between them. "No need t' be jealous," he assures in a low voice. A viscous purple drop rolls down towards his knuckle.
Oh, the obvious. With a little, "No?" Jaeyi gives the envied upper lip a second look, momentarily managing to seem like she hasn't been paying attention to O'rik's finger or the implications of it at all. Only momentarily, though, because-- when the very ends of her fingers come to rest in the bend of his elbow, a necessary crutch for the complex spatial relations involved in leaning to traipse her tongue over that errant knuckle-drop then put the promised pinky in her mouth-- there's just no point pretending she hadn't been entirely aware of his finger all along. Yes yes yes, her leaning forward like that's a helluva show, but hopefully he's duly preoccupied.
There aren't many things that would keep O'rik from focused appreciation of such ample curves as Jaeyi is currently displaying with her lean. Of course, the girl's mastery of more complicated maneuvers happens to be one. Not prone to fidgeting anyhow, the man has fallen completely still and his eyes sunken even further closed while he relinquishes elbow-to-fingertip to the baker's control. Quickened breath leads into a low, husking chuckle. "Please tell me," really, do, "you know who your father is."
Outright laughter is not the downright sexiest thing she could do, especially not in the middle of fellating someone's finger, but that is the immediate reaction, a little choked sounding under the circumstances. Rather than contain the amusement behind her own hand, Jaeyi briefly leaves the leftover grin against O'rik's knuckles, finally clearing her throat and fixing him with bright eyes. "This has been a problem for you in the past, I take it?" Considering she's now caught up his palm in her fingers and sets his pinky on a parade from her lips, over her chin, along the line of her neck and dooooown-- god bless low-cut blouses-- let's hope she's telling the truth to say, "I know exactly who my father is."
At least it's better that it's a /finger/ she's laughing around? "Maybe." How can O'rik do anything but chuckle, in light of those bright eyes and the ongoing parade. His fingers have come back to life as Jaeyi sinks them past her throat, splaying out to better track over soft skin. Reaching, further, in attempt to slip fingertips underneath that already-low neckline. She knows? In that case - "hope he's not th' overprotective sort." Not that he's too worried over it at present, what with more important things to occupy his mind with. The bluerider edges a little closer on the bench, leaning to get a better view of where she's taking his hand. "Y'done with work?"
Jaeyi's repetition of, "Maaaaybe," is still fringed with laughter. 'Cause, for just a moment, she looks distractedly upward and entertains the scenario it would take for a man to add 'tell me you know who your father is' to his repertoire of come-ons. The disappearing hand-trick prevents her from following that train of thought to the inevitable catastrophic wreck at its end, and she so helpfully gives O'rik's fingers a guided tour of territory presently being patrolled by a blouse-and-bra regime. "I am," happily reported. "Though I've a feeling there's at least one job left to do tonight." Starts with blow ends with no, it's not going to deter her that he's three times her age.
O'rik is an enthusiastic tourist, and at this point not particularly aware of his guide's briefly wandering attention. He is also undaunted by the patrolling cloth. There's nothing wrong with the dexterity of this hand, even given the inconvenient angle. With experience gained in those three-times turns of his, the bluerider is swift in discovering textured flesh and sweeping two knuckles together to give it a tweaking roll. "We'll see y' get worked," he promises, just as happily. "Y'know where the open rooms are?" He actually looks up to find Jaeyi's eyes with that question.
Wait a minute. After all this time, all these broom closets and grass stains, "There are open rooms?" Jaeyi, the victim of some cruel joke, holds his look with a smattering of startled blinks and goes on to actually smack her forehead for never having considered the thought before; every day, several times a day in fact, she walks right by uninhabited quarters, and not so much as once... At the very least, it would make her feel better if-- "Don't they lock them or something?" Sorry, surprised by the depth of her own idiocy, she fails to squirm appropriately at the business of O'rik's one-good-hand.
The lack of squirming, the blinking - somewhere amongst that O'rik reclaims his fingers and seeks to give his palm temporary rest low on her hip instead. "Some're locked," noted with amusement thick in his voice. He treats himself to one of those blackberries while she's slapping herself around. "Haven't been here long, have ya?" Well, obviously, not as long as him. The old bluerider is getting to his feet, patting familiarly at her backside. "I'll show ya." Just one more thing added to the rest of the list. He offers his good hand to help her up. Not because it's the gentlemanly thing to do, but more let's /go/ already.
Well, hey. At least it'll be educational. "Apparently not long enough." A little lingering self-derision prompts the short, eye-rolling snicker before Jaeyi collects up a three-stack of thumbprint cookies in one hand. It's more the heel of that hand, less the one she takes O'rik's with that pries her to her feet, some little dark thought quirking the corner of her mouth at the things being left behind on that plate. Not so much the hand-holdy type, she relocates his fingers back where they were, low-on-her-hip, and gives an imperious little flip of her fingers toward the inner caverns. "So show me."
O'rik is not exactly a patient man, but he does manage to play the part while Jaeyi gathers her cookies. Not like it's as difficult to be patient with the promise of his own chosen indulgence right there before him. And, really, it's probably not a surprise that the old guy isn't a hand-holder himself. That plenty of girls, like Jaeyi, are a smidge taller than him is the least of reasons. Accordingly, the relocation happens to align perfectly with the bluerider's preferences for walking-in-contact. Palm set to fitting to this other set of curves, he'll answer the commanding flip in action if not in words by guiding the way around the table and off to one of these conveniently unlocked rooms. On the way, there's time to murmur suggestions for particular ingredients that might do well for warm and sticky dessert. Not a glance is given to that couple of earlier, even with the woman now impressively spraying tears. As far as entertainment goes, the fight just can't hold a candle to what the baker brought to the table.
IC Date: 8/18/19
Living Cavern, Fort Weyr(#513RIJMas$)
The interior of the living cavern is luxurious, relatively speaking -- the walls are smoothed and there are wall sconces in addition to the myriad array of glow baskets and lamps used to keep the place well lit. It's a large space, suited to handle large numbers of people, with dozens of tables arranged strategically throughout; serving tables are also conveniently located at various intervals. Tapestries hang on the walls, many of them having been there for hundreds of turns and periodically taken down for cleaning and restoration.
Up a flight of stairs would be the kitchens, where much of the hustle and bustle can be heard, if not seen. Food is transported down via discretely located dumb waiters and dispersed by servers as necessary, but the aromas of food being prepared is as pervasive as the constant chatter of people as they drift through in search of food, drink, or company. Servers are generally available to assist and ensure that cups are filled and tables are cleaned regularly.
To the west is both the main entrance to the bowl and also the night hearth, which is kept stocked with fresh klah and pots of stew. Other hearths are scattered throughout, radiating heat and warmth as well as providing gathering spots for private discussions. To the east, a short flight of stairs leads down to the inner caverns, while a stout wooden door with a purple caduceus to the south leads to the infirmary.
As bright and beautiful as it's been of late at Fort Weyr, mid-afternoon doesn't see the high volume of people in the living cavern that the cooler months will likely bring. Of course, there are still plenty of folks kicking and pursuing various occupations. There's enough going on to entertain one idle old bluerider, in any case. O'rik has stationed himself at one long table, and if he ever had company at it they've already left. There's a plate of greasy looking finger-food hovering off beyond one elbow, heavily picked-over already and currently ignored in favor of watching a twenty-something year old couple that are have a quiet but heavily gestured little spat a few tables over.
"Please tell me you're not going to eat that." How she arrived there, how she went from the kitchen stairs to standing before the plate of greasy junk shall remain a mystery, perhaps lured by the spat, by the empty table, or by the sixth-sense tingle of knowing someone could use something better to eat. It's also hard to say if Jaeyi meant her own plate, with its smattering of caky-breads and berries and powdered-sugar-confections, to be shared, but she does tilt it in what's meant to be an eye-catching way. A spare glance finds time to realize the show in progress, and, based on the curious tilt of her head and twist of her mouth, she'll probably ask after that by and by.
That low-lidded gaze is slow to drag away from the couple, particularly since it's the young lady that is currently jerking her arms in exasperated little motions that resonate through her entire frame. The trajectory does pick up, however, as a testament to how effectively Jaeyi manages eye-catching. "Not gonna eat it," O'rik replies with smirking obedience. His elbows shift in their lean on the table top, propping him back a little further so the bluerider can get a better look at that plate and its holder. "Y'offering something better?"
Jaeyi gives the woman at that other table a look that, to a man, might not mean so much, but most other women would recognize it pretty clearly: poor effort, amateur. "I wonder what--" No, never mind, she distracts herself with her index finger pushing the offensive plate farther on down the table so a much nicer looking plate can take its place. All pretty, summer-colored trifles and berries mixed in. "Mmn, I am. I am, though that's hardly saying much, is it?" Empty of plate, her hand falls on the back of a chair. Pointedly.
That look in fact doesn't seem to mean much to O'rik, and he likewise isn't paying much mind to the arguers anymore. Not with something so appealing right under his nose. The shoved plate is followed with a glance through that start of its path before the man re-focuses on the pretty little desserty things. He's moving slow today, so it takes him a bit to unfold his arm and reach out to nab one of the least powdery looking nibbles. It's halfway back to his mouth before he gets around to parsing that pointed-ness. "Sit?" the bluerider half wonders, half offers before taking a bite that dusts crumbs into the scruff about his mouth.
"Thank you," like she didn't know it was coming, like there's any reason for Jaeyi to react so brightly to a monosyllable she was already expecting anyway. But she does sit, elbow on the table on the far side of the plate, absently tapping her an index finger along the edge of it like she's looking for... "There was supposed to be a little dish of caramel," not that there's a real lack of oh-my-god sugar on that plate as it is, but she looks beyond O'rik toward the kitchen stairs a moment, debating the effort of going back. "Anyway. I'm Jaeyi, the baker, and I don't think we've met?" Luckily, cheerful sixteen doesn't so much mind bearing the brunt of conversation, even if she might have fared better with-- oh, most of the rest of the cavern's occupants.
Right thumb and index knuckle lifting to drag around his mouth and displace most of the crumbs, that tap-tapping draws O'rik's attention. His eyes then follow her arm back up towards her face, though they take their good sweet time in doing so. "Think I would'a remembered." Teeth show a bit from the skewed smile he aims at her. "O'rik." And while his gaze stays locked on Jaeyi, he'll lift the bite of cake he's still got in his fingers. "You made this?" More assumed than asked. "Don' know it needs caramel. That sticky stuff, better hot, anyhow. Light and sweet better for summer, yeah?" And then he'll finish off the bite, leaving his thumb lingering against his teeth a moment to nibble off the layer of crumbs that stick there.
Not that there's a coy bone in her body, but Jaeyi still offers a close rendition of prettily flattered to ask, "Would you? Good." As to the cakes, the little sugary cookies with their powder or their thumb-prints of jam, even the artful display of berries all scattered among them, it's only a brief, vain, "Mmmmhmn." Vain in the way she sits up a little, leans back her shoulders, as on-display as the damn desserts in a way only slightly less palatable. "Though I'm sorry to hear you say that, O'rik. Light-and-sweet are all pleasant now and then, I suppose, but it's the warm-and-sticky treats that are my particular specialty." So saying, she pushes a square of yellowish cake all drizzled with purple syrup toward the edge of the plate nearer the bluerider. "Eat that." She'll watch.
The smile lingers behind his thumb as O'rik appreciates the display, dropping away with his hand into a more subtle expression that better fits the age-etched lines of his features. He gives a little shake of his head, and the length of his next breath borders on being a sigh. "Can imagine," the older bluerider drawls afterwards, and he really is imagining by the way his gaze skims over the baker's goods. It's only reluctantly that whiskey eyes drag down to that cake - suspiciously, even. "Purple?" a narrow sideways glance back to the girl. But he's lifting the cake. And with the stickiness having previously been advertised and the attention and all, he'll play at taking a lick of the syrup first before rolling the cake onto his tongue and bringing it in for a bite.
"Purple," echoes the girl in a /purple/ blouse, picking a /purple/ blackberry (really ought to rename that fruit) off the plate, waiting until O'rik's taken the risk of putting the cake in his mouth before the berry goes to a similar fate between her teeth. Really, though, Jaeyi's all eyes on the reaction to lemony cake with its drizzle of syrup, eyebrows lifted over a questioning expression. But the question has nothing to do with the cake, rather a throwback; "What can you imagine?" Let's be clear, that is /not/ an innocent question. Her chin put to her hand, her smile just on the verge of baiting, her eyes never dropping his even to spin the plate so there's more of the less-sticky cake made easier to reach.
Purple is very possibly O'rik's new favorite color. It's a good thing she's not questioning about the cake, because the only indication he gives regarding its taste is the speed in which it all disappears. The dab of syrup that got smeared on his few-day-old moustache is dispatched by a slow sweep of his tongue while he considers the baker and her question. "Y'look like quite a treat y'self," the bluerider settles on simply with a lascivious quirk of his mouth. "Aren't ya sweetheart?" And because it's somehow pertinent, "where'd ya come from?" He reaches towards the plate with his pinky, only the barest of glances given to be sure he's aiming for a bit of that purple syrup that was left behind on the edge.
No telling if Jaeyi's smile would have been quite so self-satisfied if he had answered the question. "Shall I be coy and say 'whatever do you mean?'" With a flutter of ridiculously long lashes and big, innocent eyes. "Or honest and confess that I'm rather envious of your upper lip about now?" As one good turn deserves another, she neglects to expound on her origins, preoccupied as she is with the task of using her index finger to push her lip in between her teeth. The term 'lascivious' is bound to get bandied back and forth between these two for a while, so might as well toss it in here for good measure: even the glance that goes up from the syrup-puddle-pinky to the bluerider's eyes has a quality of lascivious precisely matched to his smirk. "There's more cake." In case that was a concern.
Envious. A sigh of the sort that ends in a little growl breathes in O'rik's lungs. "Prefer honest." Despite having been vague himself, before. That finger-in-mouth of hers gets careful study. "So." His fingertip rolls slowly in the puddle. Partially because that way, it gets a good coating. The bluerider shifts, squaring his shoulders more towards Jaeyi. Because when that pinky lifts, it's held out between them. "No need t' be jealous," he assures in a low voice. A viscous purple drop rolls down towards his knuckle.
Oh, the obvious. With a little, "No?" Jaeyi gives the envied upper lip a second look, momentarily managing to seem like she hasn't been paying attention to O'rik's finger or the implications of it at all. Only momentarily, though, because-- when the very ends of her fingers come to rest in the bend of his elbow, a necessary crutch for the complex spatial relations involved in leaning to traipse her tongue over that errant knuckle-drop then put the promised pinky in her mouth-- there's just no point pretending she hadn't been entirely aware of his finger all along. Yes yes yes, her leaning forward like that's a helluva show, but hopefully he's duly preoccupied.
There aren't many things that would keep O'rik from focused appreciation of such ample curves as Jaeyi is currently displaying with her lean. Of course, the girl's mastery of more complicated maneuvers happens to be one. Not prone to fidgeting anyhow, the man has fallen completely still and his eyes sunken even further closed while he relinquishes elbow-to-fingertip to the baker's control. Quickened breath leads into a low, husking chuckle. "Please tell me," really, do, "you know who your father is."
Outright laughter is not the downright sexiest thing she could do, especially not in the middle of fellating someone's finger, but that is the immediate reaction, a little choked sounding under the circumstances. Rather than contain the amusement behind her own hand, Jaeyi briefly leaves the leftover grin against O'rik's knuckles, finally clearing her throat and fixing him with bright eyes. "This has been a problem for you in the past, I take it?" Considering she's now caught up his palm in her fingers and sets his pinky on a parade from her lips, over her chin, along the line of her neck and dooooown-- god bless low-cut blouses-- let's hope she's telling the truth to say, "I know exactly who my father is."
At least it's better that it's a /finger/ she's laughing around? "Maybe." How can O'rik do anything but chuckle, in light of those bright eyes and the ongoing parade. His fingers have come back to life as Jaeyi sinks them past her throat, splaying out to better track over soft skin. Reaching, further, in attempt to slip fingertips underneath that already-low neckline. She knows? In that case - "hope he's not th' overprotective sort." Not that he's too worried over it at present, what with more important things to occupy his mind with. The bluerider edges a little closer on the bench, leaning to get a better view of where she's taking his hand. "Y'done with work?"
Jaeyi's repetition of, "Maaaaybe," is still fringed with laughter. 'Cause, for just a moment, she looks distractedly upward and entertains the scenario it would take for a man to add 'tell me you know who your father is' to his repertoire of come-ons. The disappearing hand-trick prevents her from following that train of thought to the inevitable catastrophic wreck at its end, and she so helpfully gives O'rik's fingers a guided tour of territory presently being patrolled by a blouse-and-bra regime. "I am," happily reported. "Though I've a feeling there's at least one job left to do tonight." Starts with blow ends with no, it's not going to deter her that he's three times her age.
O'rik is an enthusiastic tourist, and at this point not particularly aware of his guide's briefly wandering attention. He is also undaunted by the patrolling cloth. There's nothing wrong with the dexterity of this hand, even given the inconvenient angle. With experience gained in those three-times turns of his, the bluerider is swift in discovering textured flesh and sweeping two knuckles together to give it a tweaking roll. "We'll see y' get worked," he promises, just as happily. "Y'know where the open rooms are?" He actually looks up to find Jaeyi's eyes with that question.
Wait a minute. After all this time, all these broom closets and grass stains, "There are open rooms?" Jaeyi, the victim of some cruel joke, holds his look with a smattering of startled blinks and goes on to actually smack her forehead for never having considered the thought before; every day, several times a day in fact, she walks right by uninhabited quarters, and not so much as once... At the very least, it would make her feel better if-- "Don't they lock them or something?" Sorry, surprised by the depth of her own idiocy, she fails to squirm appropriately at the business of O'rik's one-good-hand.
The lack of squirming, the blinking - somewhere amongst that O'rik reclaims his fingers and seeks to give his palm temporary rest low on her hip instead. "Some're locked," noted with amusement thick in his voice. He treats himself to one of those blackberries while she's slapping herself around. "Haven't been here long, have ya?" Well, obviously, not as long as him. The old bluerider is getting to his feet, patting familiarly at her backside. "I'll show ya." Just one more thing added to the rest of the list. He offers his good hand to help her up. Not because it's the gentlemanly thing to do, but more let's /go/ already.
Well, hey. At least it'll be educational. "Apparently not long enough." A little lingering self-derision prompts the short, eye-rolling snicker before Jaeyi collects up a three-stack of thumbprint cookies in one hand. It's more the heel of that hand, less the one she takes O'rik's with that pries her to her feet, some little dark thought quirking the corner of her mouth at the things being left behind on that plate. Not so much the hand-holdy type, she relocates his fingers back where they were, low-on-her-hip, and gives an imperious little flip of her fingers toward the inner caverns. "So show me."
O'rik is not exactly a patient man, but he does manage to play the part while Jaeyi gathers her cookies. Not like it's as difficult to be patient with the promise of his own chosen indulgence right there before him. And, really, it's probably not a surprise that the old guy isn't a hand-holder himself. That plenty of girls, like Jaeyi, are a smidge taller than him is the least of reasons. Accordingly, the relocation happens to align perfectly with the bluerider's preferences for walking-in-contact. Palm set to fitting to this other set of curves, he'll answer the commanding flip in action if not in words by guiding the way around the table and off to one of these conveniently unlocked rooms. On the way, there's time to murmur suggestions for particular ingredients that might do well for warm and sticky dessert. Not a glance is given to that couple of earlier, even with the woman now impressively spraying tears. As far as entertainment goes, the fight just can't hold a candle to what the baker brought to the table.