This one did not have jam on his pants, so it ended much differently.
RL Date: 6/18/09
IC Date: 13/19/09 --Log from P'draig.
The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr(#533RJs$)
Despite its subterranean locale, the creamy wall paint, pale woods, and frosted glass give the cavern a light, airy feel. Oil lamps reflect softly in the polished wood of high-backed booths, glimmering through the opaque glass dividers that help lend intimacy to the seating arrangements; round-backed seats with deep, terra-cotta colored padding and the addition of strategic, lyric shapes painted in a subtle red shade at regular intervals around the walls add a little depth to the color palette. The sweeping, half-circle shaped bar with its top of smooth stone, backed by cut-glass-fronted cabinetry flows gracefully into the soft lines and mellow colors that dominate the Glass Fountain.
All the atmosphere aside, the main attractions of the room are clearly the massive, multi-pronged chandelier that hangs from multiple chains from the ceiling and the re-worked leak - which no longer resembles a leak at all, having been channeled through lass to become a beautiful piece of art. A curving wave and a series of glass bubbles guide the water past a bank of glows, allowing the light to shine through the water and turn it into a sparkling fountain. From its dark, dim, shabby history, the Glass Fountain has become - frankly - a swanky place with lattice-stands to hold the menus with their selection ranging from typical 'bar food' to high-end dishes and fancy desserts.
It's been a while since P'draig came down to Fort's bar and when he crosses inside, the brownrider comes to a halt and blinks a few times. "Shells," he exclaims, eyes wide as his gaze traverses the space, then he moves across to the bar, almost like he's afraid it might get up and walk away, a look of pronounced bemusement on his face.
Laughing as he hitches his bottom up onto a stool, P'draig shakes his head. "Not lost so much as just -- " he waves around the re-done bar. "When did this place get all cleaned up?" Then back to Jaeyi as he sheds the riding jacket that drapes his shoulders and eyes the drink she's trying to mix. "Did they show you the trick to that yet?" he asks about her not-floating liquor."
Jaeyi looks around doubtfully, at all the swankiness, and winds up shrugging-and-smiling back toward P'draig in an utterly clueless way. "It was like this when I got here? And no. Is there a trick?" Glass and bottle both are offered out in a silent show-me. As there's always someone hanging on the baker's every word, a helpful young man seated down the bar and waiting for the drink she's botching up royally supplies a more helpful answer about it having been redone not so long ago and all that.
"Yeah? How long have you been at Fort then?" P'draig asks next and shifts hands to roll up cuffs. "There's a trick," he confirms and reaches for glass and bottle. His attention is diverted to the explanatory young man and Paddy grins thattaway. "Thanks. Looks nice, just nothing much like it used to," the brownrider claims as he tilts the glass a little, seeks to catch Jaeyi's eye, like this see," and then he's pouring, making angles and whatnot line up so that the surface tension doesn't break.
Elbows on the edge of the bar, Jaeyi pays duly rapt attention to whatever this trick might be, brows knitted at the rather complex maneuvers required to get vodka to float. "It should not be that tricky," she decides, makes a face at the whole rigamarole. A little belatedly, she supplies, "Just since the spring-- late spring at that. And isn't that all going to go to hell when you stick a cherry in there?"
"It's mostly a question of relaxing, really, letting it flow," P'draig explains and hands the glass back to her. "Give it another whirl?" His expression is sympathetic and a little shrug follows. "Good reason to slice the cherry and perch it on the side of the glass instead?" he suggests with a twinkle in his eyes. "And spring. Just over half a turn then. How do you like it so far? I Impressed here, but I live at Ista now."
Certain; "He'll drink it no matter how unpretty it looks." Which is why Jaeyi just winds up dropping the cherry into the glass with a careless but satisfying splash-plunk. "Thank you, though, I'll try it on the next one." She puts the glass down in front of the helpful kid who had the whole history of the bar ready, smiles perfectly, and comes on around to take the stool next to P'draig-- kind of putting a damper on the idea of there being a 'next one' for her to practice on, oh well. "I guess I like it well enough, except it's tremendously cold. Can I move to Ista with you?" Person whose name she doesn't even know yet.
"There's always that too," P'draig agrees, fingers lacing together for the duration that Jaeyi's gone. His mouth slants into a crooked grin as she comes around the bar instead of making the 'next' one and plunks on that stool. "I think it's awfully warm at Ista for the most part, but I do have a nice big weyr if you don't mind sharing with a short, rather lascivious greenrider," he notes good-naturedly and holds a hand out. "P'draig, brown Jekzith's."
With a sudden laugh, Jaeyi answers easily, "I think I'd manage to survive somehow, P'draig. Who used to be from Fort and is now at Ista. Weyrlingmaster, was it?" Hah! She gives that hand a warm, two-handed return and supplies, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jaeyi, the baker." Just down the bar, the recipient of an unpretty drink starts sulking; why are riders always showing up here while he cruises for chicks, dangit.
There's a firm handshake from P'draig, his fingers still lightly callused across the lower pads from holding a kitchen knife so often. Her second hand might find the lingering scar or two where he had apprentice accidents: wounds of the trade. "/Jaeyi/," the brownrider echoes the name with emphasis and his focus on the baker grows more keen. "You're Jaeyi," and a little amused grin crosses his face. Poor guy. All that competition. "Mic was asking if we could come for you the other day. You left quite the impression," he tells her candidly and the way he says it, it's a compliment, though he's not flirting. "Nice to meet you," he says sincerely, then leans in a little closer, voice dropping lower. "It's a rare thing for someone to return Mic to me in the state he was in."
It works out okay, because Jaeyi takes it as a compliment, beaming brightly in the wake of those remarks. "I had no choice, really. If someone's going to wander around the living caverns with a charming grin and jelly on his trousers..." She trails off, the whole matter being beyond her control, fingers waving dismissively. Chin propped on her hand now, elbow on the bar, the beam goes to a delighted smile; "Do you want me to apologize for sending him back to you wrecked? Because I will, but it won't be authentic."
"Is that how it goes? Helpless Istan greenriders with jam on their pants wind up completely exhausted and limp?" P'draig inquires next, grin widening though, a merry twinkle in his eyes as he leans an elbow to the bar's surface in turn and mirrors her position, though it's his cheek propped on his curled fist. "Nope. That was one /happy/ T'mic," P'draig replies laughingly. "Feel free to tire him out again as much as you like."
"Mhmn. Do you want me to go and get some jam from the kitchen and we can pretend we haven't met yet?" Jaeyi even starts like she'd get off her stool, but there's no follow-through, checked momentum. "I'm glad he was happy. He seems sweet. Based on the whole few hours I know him so far. I heard you cook."
P'draig laughs and ducks a look down at his own trousers, which are quite clean, then back up at the baker. "Does that actually require jam-on-pants?" he asks teasingly then nods a couple of times. "He is, very. Even if I didn't get that for a while after I first met him." Nodding again, P'draig answers in the affirmative too. "Mmhm. Trained as a baker at Tillek and here, had to stop a little while Jekzith was little, but I've kept it up around everything else. I cook a few nights a week at the Sandbar, bar on the beach at Ista and will do some cruise cooking on the Layabout - fancy boat a good friend of mine has been working on."
With amusing sincerity, a serious look down at his sugar-free pants, Jaeyi answers over a grave nod; "A girl has to have standards." The rest of what P'draig says has her ending with a dramatically woeful sigh, with a heavier lean onto her palm, like the weight of the world just found its way on to her shoulders. "A bar on the beach and a fancy boat. Why couldn't they have said 'you're going to Ista,' I ask you."
"I'll make sure to bring the jam next time then, though I can't promise it'll be in a jar. Maybe wrapped in sponge cake?" P'draig muses, still humorously then breas out laughing outright. "Like it warm? Maybe it'll be your next posting. Close to walking the tables?" He squints at her closely, like maybe he's trying to place her age.
Though she seems approving of the sponge cake, based on the quickly flickering smile, Jaeyi is compelled to point out, "It won't have quite the same end result. Just so you're aware. But I won't complain if you won't?" The matter of her progress in the craft... well, she makes a face. "I'm never walking the tables, I'm fairly sure. And, if I did, I have a feeling Ista rates among the more frequently requested postings, hmn?"
"No complaints here, after all, there's more than one way to enjoy jelly, right?" P'draig's hand shifts to rub at his chin, amusement blossoming further on his face, maybe self-directed. Brows lift though: "Why's that? And -- I don't know about these days, but no more or less than anywhere else. Different people like different places, after all."
Why's that? "It's a long and sordid tale. Bring me a jelly roll and I'll consider divulging it some time." Jaeyi, ever bribe-able. "I bet," she continues seriously, "if you polled every apprentice in the craft, better than half of them would list Ista among their top three places to be posted. Beaches, lovely warm weather, incredibly easy greenriders..." Wistful sigh.
"The price of a tale, one jelly roll," P'draig says and bobs his head. "Could go find a corner of kitchen and just make one right now," he points out. "I might still have some pull with the head cook," Paddy continues mirthfully. "It's not really all that lovely. More like drippy and constantly wet. Boll now, Boll is nice. Dryer. Sunnier."
"Ah, but I got run out of Boll, so even if I waaaanted to go back." Which Jaeyi is not saying she does! Not in so many words. "They wouldn't let me. Ista seems like the next best thing. Any place with an excuse to wear fewer clothes." With fingers plucking unhappily at the cuff of a long sleeve. "But you moved to Ista to be with your lover, hmn?"
"Run out of Boll," P'draig echoes. "You're right that does sound like it's a long and sordid tale. Anything other than jelly roll you'd be willing to take in payment for it?" The brownrider shrugs, makes a little face about Ista. "Sure. Lie around naked too hot to do much of anything but soak in a cool pool. Kind of puts a damper on getting much of anything done. I'm exaggerating though. The weather at Ista is /great/ in the winter. And yeah, Mic can't abide the cold, I figured I could take the heat better than he could take freezing. So when we weyrmated, off to Ista with me."
Pretending to think, looking thoughtfully toward the ceiling, it finally ends with, "No. Jelly rolls equal sordid tales. Everything else equals P'draig waits and wonders." Jaeyi raises a pretty, one-shouldered shrug at that-- which is kinda redundant, yes, since there's not a damn thing she does that's not pretty, at least not as long as she's on-display. "That's very... romantic, isn't it? I mean, giving up a whole life and career and everything to move to Ista to keep someone warm?"
"Then I'll just have to really bring it next time I'm at Fort," P'draig claims. "I come over two to three times a seven. To visit friends and lovers here," the brownrider says quiet frankly and smiles at the young woman, who is yes, quite pretty. "I don't know if it's romantic. It just seemed to make sense. We didn't want to be apart, we love each other very much, so one of us had to budge. He was willing to come here, actually. But taking a year off from weyrlingmaster work was probably good for me."
"Then I take it back. It's not romantic, it's very pragmatic and you're both just the most serious and realistic people I've ever met." Jaeyi lets that sit there for a minute before one eye narrows slightly, really reconsidering the words serious-and-realistic in relation to what she knows of at least half of the pair in question. Anyway; "What do you do at Ista now? Aside from T'mic, of course." Ba dum.
"Maybe a little bit of all of those?" P'draig concedes, straightening up on his stool and reaching across the counter for the vodka and a glass, and pours himself a thumbful, sips from it thoughtfully. "What, or who?" he quips with a wink then goes on right away. "Ride in Riptide when there's no clutch, cook a lot, take care of my kids. If there's a clutch -- well we'll see about this time. I might take up the big knot again."
To the quip; "Same thing?" But then he goes on to enumerate his tasks rather than his playmates, and Jaeyi listens, though better than half of it doesn't actually make sense. Riptide, big knot, whoosh, over her head. "How many kids? Everyone I meet seems to have kids." Because they're all at least twice her age.
"Heh, maybe," Paddy says with a laugh. "Plenty of sex, sure," he adds with a shrug. "I don't think anyone can be in a relationship with T'mic and not have it be a big part of life. We're not exclusive but he's a lot more ... outgoing about it than I am," P'draig says thoughtfully. "Not that I don't have my fair share of fun, but for him sex might as well be shaking hands." Fond again, that description. "I have three kids. Palia is almost six, Jaivery's three and Dylan's just had his first birthday. All different mothers."
With a brief laugh, Jaeyi comments, "I guess the plenty-of-sex would lead right in to the everyone-has-kids, wouldn't it?" The fond remark about handshakes meets a smile that hardly begs to differ, indeed seems quite appreciative of the method-of-greeting. "Jaivery... Belongs to someone at Telgar? Do you keep the others with you at Ista?"
"Sort of," P'draig replies and takes another sip from that glass of vodka. "All of my kids are flight or post-flight born and when you're in a flight or coming out of one, that's when your brain tends to be a little on vacation where using a preventative something or other is concerned. Of course, there's always a long jump Between too, but riders like to have kids too. Not just holders." Paddy's head bobs a yes. "Mmhm. Jenivrys. My brother's weyrmate. Speaking of long and sordid stories," he jokes a little. "Palia's with me, yes. Dylan's mother is an Istan rider and we're friends but not you know, together. Lanea's in my wing, we lost a flight together. It's a good back and forth though. Mic's not keen on kids, so Dylan doesn't live with us full-time. He's down in the nurseries and I take him and Palia in the afternoons."
"What a small world it is." Jaeyi shakes her head at the connections she's putting together presently, chases away the fringes of the thoughts as something to unravel some other time-- when she can draw a diagram of who-banged-whom. "Wasn't he here visiting his child? Though I suppose it's a far cry from visiting-on-occasion to living with you full time."
"It can be, sure. Dragons can make it that way, instant travel," P'draig points out with a swish of his nearly empty glass. "And he was. Tilara. Her mother is Miara, Palia's milk-mother and former nanny," the brownrider explains with sudden wicked humor rising in his eyes. "It's a tangled web."
Happy; "Tell me about this tangled web, P'draig. How do you wind up with a child by your brother's weyrmate, then your lover winds up with a child by your child's former nanny?" Jaeyi sits up, even, turns on her stool to face the brownrider with her most dutiful-student expression in place. "For extra credit points, include how you and T'rev thought you both might be the father of the boy at Telgar."
P'draig starts laughing again as Jaeyi poses those questions and looks down at his knees, then back up at the happy baker. "Sure. Price is whatever you made in the kitchen today, so I can get an idea about /your/ cooking," the brownrider challenges back. "And I'll gladly untangle it for you."
"Won't you be disappointed if I tell you all I made today was oatmeal." Hopefully that's not what Jaeyi's off to collect, leaving P'draig to giggle at his knees with a parting, "Stay here."
"Not necessarily," P'draig says over his shoulder. "Oatmeal can be good stuff." He leans against the bar though as Jaeyi scoots off and signals the actual barkeep for another drink, passing over marks for that and the vodka he pinched. From vodka to whiskey for the brownrider when that stubby glass arrives. Someone's a heavy drinker?
Upon returning, Jaeyi sets down a plate with a pretty bit of streudel in the middle of it, a spill of powdered sugar decorating the top. "Almond filling, which I'm not especially happy about, but you have to make due in the winter, hmn? Can I have that?" She means the glass, which she reaches for without any real invitation.
"Whiskey," P'draig names the drink and passes the glass to Jaeyi, then turns the plate this way and that, nods. "That is one of the biggest benefits of Ista. Fruit year round. All kinds. I like to make cobbler. You know, you could see about wheedling some out of a rider or two," he points out then breaks off a bite of the streusel to try it out. "Mm. Good anyway," he says, as he licks some powdered sugar from his thumb. "All right. So. The web. Let's start with Vrys, because that answers two questions in one. She was having trouble when she was a weyrling but didn't feel comfortable talking to her Weyrlingmaster, so she came to talk to me instead, because I was you know, outside of it all, but someone she knew a little about through my brother. He was the posted harper at Telgar. Anyway, she got a crush on me, but I was being careful at the time, until her brown and mine went up after the same green. We'd been hanging out having a drink, talking and were a little tipsy so there you, one thing led to another. But she was T'rev's lover at the time so she really -- didn't know whose Jaivery was until he got big enough. He looks a lot like me. Blue eyes. Build. Cast of features, though he's a good blend of both of us too. My brother fell for her but she didn't feel the same way for a while. They got together about two turns ago though, exclusive weyrmating except for flights. And that's how my brother is raising my son with both my and T'rev's former lover." He takes another bite of streusel, then flags down the barkeep again. "This is thirsty work. I'm going to need more whiskey."
Mind, Jaeyi's not going to drink it. She just takes it away and sets it down at her elbow, where it will stay indefinitely. All of that, about Jaivery, she listens to with a contemplative knit in her brows, concluding, "Confusing, but I think I have the gist of it." Also, "If you stay here, I'll go and get you a glass of milk, which goes better with breakfast pastry anyway." She's already halfway to her feet, giving a bossy don't-you-dare look to the barkeep. "And then we can go on to the bit about the milk-mother, hmn?"
"That's all that's really needed," P'draig says with a shrug. "T'rev and Vrys had been loosely connected for a while. I was really ... just a fluke," the brownrider says with easy acceptance. "And that we wound up with Jaivery was good luck." A smile there, warm, because clearly, Paddy loves his kids. "And I'm not going anywhere, I've got all this lovely dessert to eat and a pretty girl coming back to wheedle more sordid stories out of me. So. I will be right here." A nod about Miara and he waits until Jaeyi's gone for the milk before he steals his whiskey back for a couple of swigs.
Which means, when Jaeyi gets back, P'draig gets chastised with a mean little look. "Brownrider," she begins in a tone that everyone with a stern auntie is bound to recognize. "I do not remember telling you that you could have that whiskey. Explain yourself." And the glass of milk gets set down smartly enough to splash contents off the top of it, the show taken to the extent that she stands there, arms folded, foot tapping.
Amused, P'draig takes a very deliberate, obvious sip from his glass. "You're not drinking it," he points out, "and you didn't ask me not to," he continues before he sets it down and reaces for a napkin from a basket on the counter top, wipes up slopped milk. "Do you want to know about Miara?" he questions next and reaches for another bite of streusel.
"Neither did I say you could have it back. You /gave/ it to me. Shall I do unto others as they've done unto me?" Jaeyi looks pointedly at the pastry plate, blinking at him in continued sternness. "I'm only going to sit and talk to you if you manage to stay sober, you see, so much as I might care to know about Miara, I'm going to leave if you get drunk."
"So you think a glass of whisky is going to get me drunk, that's it," P'draig says with a laugh. "Okay, see, Mic, has been trying to get me actually drunk, for turns. /Turns/. He's only succeeded once, by plying me with trader grog he got from T'rev. So this?" He lifts the glass back up, tilts it towards her, "is just for the flavor. You want to see me drunk on whiskey, you'll have to get me at least two bottles. It's a side effect of drinking my way through being Weyrlingmaster during the Comet Pass." That, offered more seriously. "I have no intention of getting drunk, just enjoying a very good drink. But if you insist, I will trade this in for now, for the milk. I just happen to like the combination of cinnamon with liquor." A nod to that excellent streusel.
So she lifts a hand up, reaches toward the glass, and will happily divest him of it if he plans on showing it to her like that. "Okay, see, that's a lovely story, P'draig. It is. But it doesn't change the fact that I didn't tell you that you could have it back." And that's really the point, said while Jaeyi sits back down and releases the in-big-trouble demeanor. "Now then, terrible person, tell me about Miara." Avoiding the whole issue of the Comet Pass; who wants to talk about that, really?
"You're used to getting your way, aren't you?" He does, however, relinquish the glass. "Miara nursed Palia when her mother couldn't. Got her through life-threatening jaundice. She slept in with Palia a fair bit, in my weyr because I set them both up there, rather than having them in the nursery, given how frail, Palia was. It got to be a habit, I guess. She slept on a cot near Pali, I slept in my bed. I never led her on. Apparently though, she kind of got the rosy dream in her head. You know. Weyrmate the weyrlingmaster, really be mommy to Palia and have a lot more babies with me." Milk and streusel. Though he's eyeing his whiskey covetously. "I'm still a little hazy on all the details, but I gather one night Mic came to waylay me, because he used to do that before I moved in with him and I was late with the weyrlings and Miara came home with Palia, tucked her in and well, one thing led to another. And she'd always wanted a baby of her own. So there you go. That one isn't nearly as tangled."
Jaeyi answers that first question with a look, which is really more conclusive than anything verbal could be. Seriously; she's hot, of course she's used to getting her way. He can eye the glass till the Red Star comes back, it won't do him any good. She listens, expression gradually softening to just honest sympathy by the time she comments, "But she never got the storybook ending? That's actually kind of sad. I mean, lovely that she got a baby if that's what she wanted, but still."
Gray-blue eyes meet hers straight on. Sure, she's a very pretty girl, but while P'draig isn't /immune/ to that, it's arguable that's not why he conceded on the whiskey. He munches after a moment, while she's waxing sympathetic about Miara. "Now who's the romantic," he teases her gently, then shakes his head. "No. I never felt that way about her, so it wasn't going to be me giving her that storybook," Paddy says quietly. "I think though, that she's seeing someone seriously now. I just make sure that Mic gets his butt over here often enough to see his little girl and does right by them both. Palia -- well /that/ was a tough separation for her."
"If hoping people get what they want and be happy is romantic, I'll own the label." Jaeyi lifts her chin at that, so there. More to the point, "Why? Do you pester T'mic about it? Technically, it's his child, and he is quite grown up. Shouldn't he be allowed to decide what to do about it himself?"
"No, that's just being nice," P'draig replies and slugs some more milk after a couple of big bites of sweets. Is he seriously going to eat the whole thing? "Because Mic doesn't remember," Paddy says simply and settles a long look at Jaeyi. "He's actually pretty happy usually that I make sure he remembers birthdays and other special occasions and give him the reminder so that he's not dealing with six irate mothers and crying kids, because Papa Mic forgot again."
Jaeyi's not going to stop him, so he can keep on packing it away as far as she's concerned. Watching someone eat is in the top two most gratifying things she can think to do. "So, you're saying, if I'm ever feeling particularly generous that perhaps a day-planner might be a nice present?" she guesses around a little laugh. "You did make it sound more like you /make/ him go and do it, just so you know. Rather than just /remind/ him."
"I've tried that. You don't want to know what happened to it. But something that's more permanent, like maybe on his arm, that might work," P'draig says with a wink. "Besides, he'd probably be more likely to write down: 'cute blonde, breakfast', 'adorable dark guy, lunch'," the brownrider continues, voice fond. "It's just the way he is. Me, I'm a family man, for all I'm with him, committed to him, won't ever leave him. So it's no skin off my back to keep his kids' birthdays tucked away in here with mine, or to get them all together to play together. It's a little chaotic, but his are older than mine, half of them, so they kind of watch each other." He shakes his head about making Mic go. "No. He may not like to hang around them much when they're babies, but he is at least /fond/ of his kids and he wants to do nice things for them. He's just a little busy either doing wing duties, or fucking half the Weyr and its visitors." Last of the streusel, going, going ... gone. And there's more finger licking.
With a laugh; "Well, at least it'd be an amusing read, hmn?" Jaeyi draws the used-up plate back over to herself with an index finger, puts the unfinished whiskey in the middle of the sticky residue, both of them bound for the same fate. "It sounds like the two of you are well-paired. Perhaps not quite as storybook as what the milk-mother was after, but still a very pretty story. If a little syrupy in parts."
"Absolutely," P'draig says with a warm smile for Jaeyi about Mic's day-planner being an amusing read as he finishes up his milk, then eyes his whiskey. With sticky stuff on the bottom. "Okay, tell you what, sometime, I'll line up six drinks on this bar here and drink them all one by one, and then you can ask me to do all kinds of silly things to prove I'm sober, how's that? Because, shells, girl, that's just not right." A nod to his drink. He looks up though with another smile. "We are," he says mildly. "Never would have seen myself so happily weyrmated to another man, but there you go. And if you really want syrup, come to Ista sometime. I'm sure Mic would be /more/ than happy to demonstrate. He'd like to see you again." Casual.
Jaeyi shakes her head, smiles sunnily, and says in a head-pat way, "Oh, not necessary at all. I'll take your sobriety at your word. And keep your drink anyway." Off the stool, plate in hand, she makes a face at the offer, forced into the regretful admission, "I'm really not one for travel? Tempting offer and all, trust me, but..." Forehead wrinkled, eyes large and sad, she trails off a little woefully. "Anyway. I have to go and make people fat. Tell T'mic I said hello?"
There's a wry twist to P'draig's mouth for those words and he nods. "Mic mentioned, about the traveling. But, you know. Ista. Warm. Beaches. And two dashing riders with nothing but your pleasure in mind at your beck and call. So. Think about it and I will tell Mic 'hello' and also encourage him to wear layers and come back to visit." He waits until she's getting up to make his move, hand fast to his glass syrup notwithstanding. "Have fun in the kitchen. I'll come by next time I'm at Fort to say hello."
"And the terrifying freezing cold black where you can't feel anything and think you might be dead that it takes to get there." Jaeyi shakes her head, not a little sad about the pains involved in travel, but what can she do? "You'll be sorry for that sooner or later, P'draig. I have a loooong memory for people who don't behave." She looks at the glass, looks at the brownrider, and leaves with a disappointed cluck cluck cluck of her tongue.
"The more you do it, the more you get used to it," P'draig answers about Between and lifts his glass in toast towards her. "I'll remember that, Jaeyi," he calls after her, grinning though. "I'm interested to see what you come up with for discipline. Clear burners to you." Ha ha.
IC Date: 13/19/09 --Log from P'draig.
The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr(#533RJs$)
Despite its subterranean locale, the creamy wall paint, pale woods, and frosted glass give the cavern a light, airy feel. Oil lamps reflect softly in the polished wood of high-backed booths, glimmering through the opaque glass dividers that help lend intimacy to the seating arrangements; round-backed seats with deep, terra-cotta colored padding and the addition of strategic, lyric shapes painted in a subtle red shade at regular intervals around the walls add a little depth to the color palette. The sweeping, half-circle shaped bar with its top of smooth stone, backed by cut-glass-fronted cabinetry flows gracefully into the soft lines and mellow colors that dominate the Glass Fountain.
All the atmosphere aside, the main attractions of the room are clearly the massive, multi-pronged chandelier that hangs from multiple chains from the ceiling and the re-worked leak - which no longer resembles a leak at all, having been channeled through lass to become a beautiful piece of art. A curving wave and a series of glass bubbles guide the water past a bank of glows, allowing the light to shine through the water and turn it into a sparkling fountain. From its dark, dim, shabby history, the Glass Fountain has become - frankly - a swanky place with lattice-stands to hold the menus with their selection ranging from typical 'bar food' to high-end dishes and fancy desserts.
It's been a while since P'draig came down to Fort's bar and when he crosses inside, the brownrider comes to a halt and blinks a few times. "Shells," he exclaims, eyes wide as his gaze traverses the space, then he moves across to the bar, almost like he's afraid it might get up and walk away, a look of pronounced bemusement on his face.
Laughing as he hitches his bottom up onto a stool, P'draig shakes his head. "Not lost so much as just -- " he waves around the re-done bar. "When did this place get all cleaned up?" Then back to Jaeyi as he sheds the riding jacket that drapes his shoulders and eyes the drink she's trying to mix. "Did they show you the trick to that yet?" he asks about her not-floating liquor."
Jaeyi looks around doubtfully, at all the swankiness, and winds up shrugging-and-smiling back toward P'draig in an utterly clueless way. "It was like this when I got here? And no. Is there a trick?" Glass and bottle both are offered out in a silent show-me. As there's always someone hanging on the baker's every word, a helpful young man seated down the bar and waiting for the drink she's botching up royally supplies a more helpful answer about it having been redone not so long ago and all that.
"Yeah? How long have you been at Fort then?" P'draig asks next and shifts hands to roll up cuffs. "There's a trick," he confirms and reaches for glass and bottle. His attention is diverted to the explanatory young man and Paddy grins thattaway. "Thanks. Looks nice, just nothing much like it used to," the brownrider claims as he tilts the glass a little, seeks to catch Jaeyi's eye, like this see," and then he's pouring, making angles and whatnot line up so that the surface tension doesn't break.
Elbows on the edge of the bar, Jaeyi pays duly rapt attention to whatever this trick might be, brows knitted at the rather complex maneuvers required to get vodka to float. "It should not be that tricky," she decides, makes a face at the whole rigamarole. A little belatedly, she supplies, "Just since the spring-- late spring at that. And isn't that all going to go to hell when you stick a cherry in there?"
"It's mostly a question of relaxing, really, letting it flow," P'draig explains and hands the glass back to her. "Give it another whirl?" His expression is sympathetic and a little shrug follows. "Good reason to slice the cherry and perch it on the side of the glass instead?" he suggests with a twinkle in his eyes. "And spring. Just over half a turn then. How do you like it so far? I Impressed here, but I live at Ista now."
Certain; "He'll drink it no matter how unpretty it looks." Which is why Jaeyi just winds up dropping the cherry into the glass with a careless but satisfying splash-plunk. "Thank you, though, I'll try it on the next one." She puts the glass down in front of the helpful kid who had the whole history of the bar ready, smiles perfectly, and comes on around to take the stool next to P'draig-- kind of putting a damper on the idea of there being a 'next one' for her to practice on, oh well. "I guess I like it well enough, except it's tremendously cold. Can I move to Ista with you?" Person whose name she doesn't even know yet.
"There's always that too," P'draig agrees, fingers lacing together for the duration that Jaeyi's gone. His mouth slants into a crooked grin as she comes around the bar instead of making the 'next' one and plunks on that stool. "I think it's awfully warm at Ista for the most part, but I do have a nice big weyr if you don't mind sharing with a short, rather lascivious greenrider," he notes good-naturedly and holds a hand out. "P'draig, brown Jekzith's."
With a sudden laugh, Jaeyi answers easily, "I think I'd manage to survive somehow, P'draig. Who used to be from Fort and is now at Ista. Weyrlingmaster, was it?" Hah! She gives that hand a warm, two-handed return and supplies, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jaeyi, the baker." Just down the bar, the recipient of an unpretty drink starts sulking; why are riders always showing up here while he cruises for chicks, dangit.
There's a firm handshake from P'draig, his fingers still lightly callused across the lower pads from holding a kitchen knife so often. Her second hand might find the lingering scar or two where he had apprentice accidents: wounds of the trade. "/Jaeyi/," the brownrider echoes the name with emphasis and his focus on the baker grows more keen. "You're Jaeyi," and a little amused grin crosses his face. Poor guy. All that competition. "Mic was asking if we could come for you the other day. You left quite the impression," he tells her candidly and the way he says it, it's a compliment, though he's not flirting. "Nice to meet you," he says sincerely, then leans in a little closer, voice dropping lower. "It's a rare thing for someone to return Mic to me in the state he was in."
It works out okay, because Jaeyi takes it as a compliment, beaming brightly in the wake of those remarks. "I had no choice, really. If someone's going to wander around the living caverns with a charming grin and jelly on his trousers..." She trails off, the whole matter being beyond her control, fingers waving dismissively. Chin propped on her hand now, elbow on the bar, the beam goes to a delighted smile; "Do you want me to apologize for sending him back to you wrecked? Because I will, but it won't be authentic."
"Is that how it goes? Helpless Istan greenriders with jam on their pants wind up completely exhausted and limp?" P'draig inquires next, grin widening though, a merry twinkle in his eyes as he leans an elbow to the bar's surface in turn and mirrors her position, though it's his cheek propped on his curled fist. "Nope. That was one /happy/ T'mic," P'draig replies laughingly. "Feel free to tire him out again as much as you like."
"Mhmn. Do you want me to go and get some jam from the kitchen and we can pretend we haven't met yet?" Jaeyi even starts like she'd get off her stool, but there's no follow-through, checked momentum. "I'm glad he was happy. He seems sweet. Based on the whole few hours I know him so far. I heard you cook."
P'draig laughs and ducks a look down at his own trousers, which are quite clean, then back up at the baker. "Does that actually require jam-on-pants?" he asks teasingly then nods a couple of times. "He is, very. Even if I didn't get that for a while after I first met him." Nodding again, P'draig answers in the affirmative too. "Mmhm. Trained as a baker at Tillek and here, had to stop a little while Jekzith was little, but I've kept it up around everything else. I cook a few nights a week at the Sandbar, bar on the beach at Ista and will do some cruise cooking on the Layabout - fancy boat a good friend of mine has been working on."
With amusing sincerity, a serious look down at his sugar-free pants, Jaeyi answers over a grave nod; "A girl has to have standards." The rest of what P'draig says has her ending with a dramatically woeful sigh, with a heavier lean onto her palm, like the weight of the world just found its way on to her shoulders. "A bar on the beach and a fancy boat. Why couldn't they have said 'you're going to Ista,' I ask you."
"I'll make sure to bring the jam next time then, though I can't promise it'll be in a jar. Maybe wrapped in sponge cake?" P'draig muses, still humorously then breas out laughing outright. "Like it warm? Maybe it'll be your next posting. Close to walking the tables?" He squints at her closely, like maybe he's trying to place her age.
Though she seems approving of the sponge cake, based on the quickly flickering smile, Jaeyi is compelled to point out, "It won't have quite the same end result. Just so you're aware. But I won't complain if you won't?" The matter of her progress in the craft... well, she makes a face. "I'm never walking the tables, I'm fairly sure. And, if I did, I have a feeling Ista rates among the more frequently requested postings, hmn?"
"No complaints here, after all, there's more than one way to enjoy jelly, right?" P'draig's hand shifts to rub at his chin, amusement blossoming further on his face, maybe self-directed. Brows lift though: "Why's that? And -- I don't know about these days, but no more or less than anywhere else. Different people like different places, after all."
Why's that? "It's a long and sordid tale. Bring me a jelly roll and I'll consider divulging it some time." Jaeyi, ever bribe-able. "I bet," she continues seriously, "if you polled every apprentice in the craft, better than half of them would list Ista among their top three places to be posted. Beaches, lovely warm weather, incredibly easy greenriders..." Wistful sigh.
"The price of a tale, one jelly roll," P'draig says and bobs his head. "Could go find a corner of kitchen and just make one right now," he points out. "I might still have some pull with the head cook," Paddy continues mirthfully. "It's not really all that lovely. More like drippy and constantly wet. Boll now, Boll is nice. Dryer. Sunnier."
"Ah, but I got run out of Boll, so even if I waaaanted to go back." Which Jaeyi is not saying she does! Not in so many words. "They wouldn't let me. Ista seems like the next best thing. Any place with an excuse to wear fewer clothes." With fingers plucking unhappily at the cuff of a long sleeve. "But you moved to Ista to be with your lover, hmn?"
"Run out of Boll," P'draig echoes. "You're right that does sound like it's a long and sordid tale. Anything other than jelly roll you'd be willing to take in payment for it?" The brownrider shrugs, makes a little face about Ista. "Sure. Lie around naked too hot to do much of anything but soak in a cool pool. Kind of puts a damper on getting much of anything done. I'm exaggerating though. The weather at Ista is /great/ in the winter. And yeah, Mic can't abide the cold, I figured I could take the heat better than he could take freezing. So when we weyrmated, off to Ista with me."
Pretending to think, looking thoughtfully toward the ceiling, it finally ends with, "No. Jelly rolls equal sordid tales. Everything else equals P'draig waits and wonders." Jaeyi raises a pretty, one-shouldered shrug at that-- which is kinda redundant, yes, since there's not a damn thing she does that's not pretty, at least not as long as she's on-display. "That's very... romantic, isn't it? I mean, giving up a whole life and career and everything to move to Ista to keep someone warm?"
"Then I'll just have to really bring it next time I'm at Fort," P'draig claims. "I come over two to three times a seven. To visit friends and lovers here," the brownrider says quiet frankly and smiles at the young woman, who is yes, quite pretty. "I don't know if it's romantic. It just seemed to make sense. We didn't want to be apart, we love each other very much, so one of us had to budge. He was willing to come here, actually. But taking a year off from weyrlingmaster work was probably good for me."
"Then I take it back. It's not romantic, it's very pragmatic and you're both just the most serious and realistic people I've ever met." Jaeyi lets that sit there for a minute before one eye narrows slightly, really reconsidering the words serious-and-realistic in relation to what she knows of at least half of the pair in question. Anyway; "What do you do at Ista now? Aside from T'mic, of course." Ba dum.
"Maybe a little bit of all of those?" P'draig concedes, straightening up on his stool and reaching across the counter for the vodka and a glass, and pours himself a thumbful, sips from it thoughtfully. "What, or who?" he quips with a wink then goes on right away. "Ride in Riptide when there's no clutch, cook a lot, take care of my kids. If there's a clutch -- well we'll see about this time. I might take up the big knot again."
To the quip; "Same thing?" But then he goes on to enumerate his tasks rather than his playmates, and Jaeyi listens, though better than half of it doesn't actually make sense. Riptide, big knot, whoosh, over her head. "How many kids? Everyone I meet seems to have kids." Because they're all at least twice her age.
"Heh, maybe," Paddy says with a laugh. "Plenty of sex, sure," he adds with a shrug. "I don't think anyone can be in a relationship with T'mic and not have it be a big part of life. We're not exclusive but he's a lot more ... outgoing about it than I am," P'draig says thoughtfully. "Not that I don't have my fair share of fun, but for him sex might as well be shaking hands." Fond again, that description. "I have three kids. Palia is almost six, Jaivery's three and Dylan's just had his first birthday. All different mothers."
With a brief laugh, Jaeyi comments, "I guess the plenty-of-sex would lead right in to the everyone-has-kids, wouldn't it?" The fond remark about handshakes meets a smile that hardly begs to differ, indeed seems quite appreciative of the method-of-greeting. "Jaivery... Belongs to someone at Telgar? Do you keep the others with you at Ista?"
"Sort of," P'draig replies and takes another sip from that glass of vodka. "All of my kids are flight or post-flight born and when you're in a flight or coming out of one, that's when your brain tends to be a little on vacation where using a preventative something or other is concerned. Of course, there's always a long jump Between too, but riders like to have kids too. Not just holders." Paddy's head bobs a yes. "Mmhm. Jenivrys. My brother's weyrmate. Speaking of long and sordid stories," he jokes a little. "Palia's with me, yes. Dylan's mother is an Istan rider and we're friends but not you know, together. Lanea's in my wing, we lost a flight together. It's a good back and forth though. Mic's not keen on kids, so Dylan doesn't live with us full-time. He's down in the nurseries and I take him and Palia in the afternoons."
"What a small world it is." Jaeyi shakes her head at the connections she's putting together presently, chases away the fringes of the thoughts as something to unravel some other time-- when she can draw a diagram of who-banged-whom. "Wasn't he here visiting his child? Though I suppose it's a far cry from visiting-on-occasion to living with you full time."
"It can be, sure. Dragons can make it that way, instant travel," P'draig points out with a swish of his nearly empty glass. "And he was. Tilara. Her mother is Miara, Palia's milk-mother and former nanny," the brownrider explains with sudden wicked humor rising in his eyes. "It's a tangled web."
Happy; "Tell me about this tangled web, P'draig. How do you wind up with a child by your brother's weyrmate, then your lover winds up with a child by your child's former nanny?" Jaeyi sits up, even, turns on her stool to face the brownrider with her most dutiful-student expression in place. "For extra credit points, include how you and T'rev thought you both might be the father of the boy at Telgar."
P'draig starts laughing again as Jaeyi poses those questions and looks down at his knees, then back up at the happy baker. "Sure. Price is whatever you made in the kitchen today, so I can get an idea about /your/ cooking," the brownrider challenges back. "And I'll gladly untangle it for you."
"Won't you be disappointed if I tell you all I made today was oatmeal." Hopefully that's not what Jaeyi's off to collect, leaving P'draig to giggle at his knees with a parting, "Stay here."
"Not necessarily," P'draig says over his shoulder. "Oatmeal can be good stuff." He leans against the bar though as Jaeyi scoots off and signals the actual barkeep for another drink, passing over marks for that and the vodka he pinched. From vodka to whiskey for the brownrider when that stubby glass arrives. Someone's a heavy drinker?
Upon returning, Jaeyi sets down a plate with a pretty bit of streudel in the middle of it, a spill of powdered sugar decorating the top. "Almond filling, which I'm not especially happy about, but you have to make due in the winter, hmn? Can I have that?" She means the glass, which she reaches for without any real invitation.
"Whiskey," P'draig names the drink and passes the glass to Jaeyi, then turns the plate this way and that, nods. "That is one of the biggest benefits of Ista. Fruit year round. All kinds. I like to make cobbler. You know, you could see about wheedling some out of a rider or two," he points out then breaks off a bite of the streusel to try it out. "Mm. Good anyway," he says, as he licks some powdered sugar from his thumb. "All right. So. The web. Let's start with Vrys, because that answers two questions in one. She was having trouble when she was a weyrling but didn't feel comfortable talking to her Weyrlingmaster, so she came to talk to me instead, because I was you know, outside of it all, but someone she knew a little about through my brother. He was the posted harper at Telgar. Anyway, she got a crush on me, but I was being careful at the time, until her brown and mine went up after the same green. We'd been hanging out having a drink, talking and were a little tipsy so there you, one thing led to another. But she was T'rev's lover at the time so she really -- didn't know whose Jaivery was until he got big enough. He looks a lot like me. Blue eyes. Build. Cast of features, though he's a good blend of both of us too. My brother fell for her but she didn't feel the same way for a while. They got together about two turns ago though, exclusive weyrmating except for flights. And that's how my brother is raising my son with both my and T'rev's former lover." He takes another bite of streusel, then flags down the barkeep again. "This is thirsty work. I'm going to need more whiskey."
Mind, Jaeyi's not going to drink it. She just takes it away and sets it down at her elbow, where it will stay indefinitely. All of that, about Jaivery, she listens to with a contemplative knit in her brows, concluding, "Confusing, but I think I have the gist of it." Also, "If you stay here, I'll go and get you a glass of milk, which goes better with breakfast pastry anyway." She's already halfway to her feet, giving a bossy don't-you-dare look to the barkeep. "And then we can go on to the bit about the milk-mother, hmn?"
"That's all that's really needed," P'draig says with a shrug. "T'rev and Vrys had been loosely connected for a while. I was really ... just a fluke," the brownrider says with easy acceptance. "And that we wound up with Jaivery was good luck." A smile there, warm, because clearly, Paddy loves his kids. "And I'm not going anywhere, I've got all this lovely dessert to eat and a pretty girl coming back to wheedle more sordid stories out of me. So. I will be right here." A nod about Miara and he waits until Jaeyi's gone for the milk before he steals his whiskey back for a couple of swigs.
Which means, when Jaeyi gets back, P'draig gets chastised with a mean little look. "Brownrider," she begins in a tone that everyone with a stern auntie is bound to recognize. "I do not remember telling you that you could have that whiskey. Explain yourself." And the glass of milk gets set down smartly enough to splash contents off the top of it, the show taken to the extent that she stands there, arms folded, foot tapping.
Amused, P'draig takes a very deliberate, obvious sip from his glass. "You're not drinking it," he points out, "and you didn't ask me not to," he continues before he sets it down and reaces for a napkin from a basket on the counter top, wipes up slopped milk. "Do you want to know about Miara?" he questions next and reaches for another bite of streusel.
"Neither did I say you could have it back. You /gave/ it to me. Shall I do unto others as they've done unto me?" Jaeyi looks pointedly at the pastry plate, blinking at him in continued sternness. "I'm only going to sit and talk to you if you manage to stay sober, you see, so much as I might care to know about Miara, I'm going to leave if you get drunk."
"So you think a glass of whisky is going to get me drunk, that's it," P'draig says with a laugh. "Okay, see, Mic, has been trying to get me actually drunk, for turns. /Turns/. He's only succeeded once, by plying me with trader grog he got from T'rev. So this?" He lifts the glass back up, tilts it towards her, "is just for the flavor. You want to see me drunk on whiskey, you'll have to get me at least two bottles. It's a side effect of drinking my way through being Weyrlingmaster during the Comet Pass." That, offered more seriously. "I have no intention of getting drunk, just enjoying a very good drink. But if you insist, I will trade this in for now, for the milk. I just happen to like the combination of cinnamon with liquor." A nod to that excellent streusel.
So she lifts a hand up, reaches toward the glass, and will happily divest him of it if he plans on showing it to her like that. "Okay, see, that's a lovely story, P'draig. It is. But it doesn't change the fact that I didn't tell you that you could have it back." And that's really the point, said while Jaeyi sits back down and releases the in-big-trouble demeanor. "Now then, terrible person, tell me about Miara." Avoiding the whole issue of the Comet Pass; who wants to talk about that, really?
"You're used to getting your way, aren't you?" He does, however, relinquish the glass. "Miara nursed Palia when her mother couldn't. Got her through life-threatening jaundice. She slept in with Palia a fair bit, in my weyr because I set them both up there, rather than having them in the nursery, given how frail, Palia was. It got to be a habit, I guess. She slept on a cot near Pali, I slept in my bed. I never led her on. Apparently though, she kind of got the rosy dream in her head. You know. Weyrmate the weyrlingmaster, really be mommy to Palia and have a lot more babies with me." Milk and streusel. Though he's eyeing his whiskey covetously. "I'm still a little hazy on all the details, but I gather one night Mic came to waylay me, because he used to do that before I moved in with him and I was late with the weyrlings and Miara came home with Palia, tucked her in and well, one thing led to another. And she'd always wanted a baby of her own. So there you go. That one isn't nearly as tangled."
Jaeyi answers that first question with a look, which is really more conclusive than anything verbal could be. Seriously; she's hot, of course she's used to getting her way. He can eye the glass till the Red Star comes back, it won't do him any good. She listens, expression gradually softening to just honest sympathy by the time she comments, "But she never got the storybook ending? That's actually kind of sad. I mean, lovely that she got a baby if that's what she wanted, but still."
Gray-blue eyes meet hers straight on. Sure, she's a very pretty girl, but while P'draig isn't /immune/ to that, it's arguable that's not why he conceded on the whiskey. He munches after a moment, while she's waxing sympathetic about Miara. "Now who's the romantic," he teases her gently, then shakes his head. "No. I never felt that way about her, so it wasn't going to be me giving her that storybook," Paddy says quietly. "I think though, that she's seeing someone seriously now. I just make sure that Mic gets his butt over here often enough to see his little girl and does right by them both. Palia -- well /that/ was a tough separation for her."
"If hoping people get what they want and be happy is romantic, I'll own the label." Jaeyi lifts her chin at that, so there. More to the point, "Why? Do you pester T'mic about it? Technically, it's his child, and he is quite grown up. Shouldn't he be allowed to decide what to do about it himself?"
"No, that's just being nice," P'draig replies and slugs some more milk after a couple of big bites of sweets. Is he seriously going to eat the whole thing? "Because Mic doesn't remember," Paddy says simply and settles a long look at Jaeyi. "He's actually pretty happy usually that I make sure he remembers birthdays and other special occasions and give him the reminder so that he's not dealing with six irate mothers and crying kids, because Papa Mic forgot again."
Jaeyi's not going to stop him, so he can keep on packing it away as far as she's concerned. Watching someone eat is in the top two most gratifying things she can think to do. "So, you're saying, if I'm ever feeling particularly generous that perhaps a day-planner might be a nice present?" she guesses around a little laugh. "You did make it sound more like you /make/ him go and do it, just so you know. Rather than just /remind/ him."
"I've tried that. You don't want to know what happened to it. But something that's more permanent, like maybe on his arm, that might work," P'draig says with a wink. "Besides, he'd probably be more likely to write down: 'cute blonde, breakfast', 'adorable dark guy, lunch'," the brownrider continues, voice fond. "It's just the way he is. Me, I'm a family man, for all I'm with him, committed to him, won't ever leave him. So it's no skin off my back to keep his kids' birthdays tucked away in here with mine, or to get them all together to play together. It's a little chaotic, but his are older than mine, half of them, so they kind of watch each other." He shakes his head about making Mic go. "No. He may not like to hang around them much when they're babies, but he is at least /fond/ of his kids and he wants to do nice things for them. He's just a little busy either doing wing duties, or fucking half the Weyr and its visitors." Last of the streusel, going, going ... gone. And there's more finger licking.
With a laugh; "Well, at least it'd be an amusing read, hmn?" Jaeyi draws the used-up plate back over to herself with an index finger, puts the unfinished whiskey in the middle of the sticky residue, both of them bound for the same fate. "It sounds like the two of you are well-paired. Perhaps not quite as storybook as what the milk-mother was after, but still a very pretty story. If a little syrupy in parts."
"Absolutely," P'draig says with a warm smile for Jaeyi about Mic's day-planner being an amusing read as he finishes up his milk, then eyes his whiskey. With sticky stuff on the bottom. "Okay, tell you what, sometime, I'll line up six drinks on this bar here and drink them all one by one, and then you can ask me to do all kinds of silly things to prove I'm sober, how's that? Because, shells, girl, that's just not right." A nod to his drink. He looks up though with another smile. "We are," he says mildly. "Never would have seen myself so happily weyrmated to another man, but there you go. And if you really want syrup, come to Ista sometime. I'm sure Mic would be /more/ than happy to demonstrate. He'd like to see you again." Casual.
Jaeyi shakes her head, smiles sunnily, and says in a head-pat way, "Oh, not necessary at all. I'll take your sobriety at your word. And keep your drink anyway." Off the stool, plate in hand, she makes a face at the offer, forced into the regretful admission, "I'm really not one for travel? Tempting offer and all, trust me, but..." Forehead wrinkled, eyes large and sad, she trails off a little woefully. "Anyway. I have to go and make people fat. Tell T'mic I said hello?"
There's a wry twist to P'draig's mouth for those words and he nods. "Mic mentioned, about the traveling. But, you know. Ista. Warm. Beaches. And two dashing riders with nothing but your pleasure in mind at your beck and call. So. Think about it and I will tell Mic 'hello' and also encourage him to wear layers and come back to visit." He waits until she's getting up to make his move, hand fast to his glass syrup notwithstanding. "Have fun in the kitchen. I'll come by next time I'm at Fort to say hello."
"And the terrifying freezing cold black where you can't feel anything and think you might be dead that it takes to get there." Jaeyi shakes her head, not a little sad about the pains involved in travel, but what can she do? "You'll be sorry for that sooner or later, P'draig. I have a loooong memory for people who don't behave." She looks at the glass, looks at the brownrider, and leaves with a disappointed cluck cluck cluck of her tongue.
"The more you do it, the more you get used to it," P'draig answers about Between and lifts his glass in toast towards her. "I'll remember that, Jaeyi," he calls after her, grinning though. "I'm interested to see what you come up with for discipline. Clear burners to you." Ha ha.