[Log] Cold Comfort
Who: Giremi, Tiriana
When: Unknown
Where: Giremi's Room, Telgar Weyr
What: Some time later after the disastrous meeting with P'draig, Tiriana comes slinking back to Giremi.
By the time Tiriana comes slinking back down the hall from her hiding place, the whiskey's well and truly gone, and while there's definitely the scent of it around her she can't possibly have drunk that much of it; she's flushed still but not weaving or stumbling her way down the hall. It's quite late now, likely after midnight, and for once, she doesn't kick open the door as she enters. Instead, she edges it very cautiously open, and past it, and then turns the handle to keep it from making any sound as she shuts it behind her again and stops, leaning against it warily as she takes in the room.
From his spot in front of the fire, Giremi looks up a little tiredly as the door opens and closes. His eyes meet hers, trepidation in them, and then without another word, he opens his arms up for her, the question only expressed in the uplifting of his eyebrows.
Tiriana scuffs her feet on the stone as she shuffles over to Giremi, plainly sulking still and with the air of a somewhat kicked puppy to her usually brash movements. When she gets there she immediately moves to sit down on him, curling up with a sniff that segues seamlessly into that stream of names for P'draig and concludes with, "I'm glad you're not like him. Bastard."
The harper's arms close around her and he clears his throat. "He was just trying to stand up for me. Plus ... he's a Weyrlingmaster. He kind of gets his britches in a twist about being talked back to." Giremi's hands make soothing motions down her back, lips seeking her temple gently. "He's right about one thing though. I love you to pieces. And I wouldn't just sleep with anyone. I only want you."
Somehow, that doesn't assuage Tiriana's pouting. "I hate it when you say that," she tells him plaintively. "And why you gotta let him interfere? I don't let /Cyrra/ interfere with /me/--that's why we're not talking, 'cause she tried butting all in on my business."
Giremi smoothes back her hair, lifts it up off the back of her neck and traces his thumbs down the delicate skin there. "I can't help it. It's the truth." He clears his throat again and shrugs. "I like talking to Paddy. He helps me keep things in perspective sometimes. Though tonight I was actually helping him with that before you came in." The harper leans in to press a kiss against the side of her neck. "I won't ask him over again though. If you hit on him again, he might say yes, though you're a little young for him. He's a little ... loose right now."
Tiriana's brows arch, and she leans back, surprised. "He'd do that to you?" she says, blinking. "Some brother. Daddy wouldn't even do that, not with Bri or anything even if she is pretty, and nice, and... stuff. I think even R'dur'd go after him if he even tried, anyway."
"I don't think he'd actually go through with it, but he'd push you, see if you'd go that far," concedes Giremi. "But you said y'know, that we're not really together, so in his mind, you're not taken either," says the harper quietly. "For all we're both Weyrbred, he acts it more. Probably because he's a rider and I'm not." Or just because Remi's a stick in the mud.
"Daddy did my aunt once. Jaethe's mom," Tiriana interjects her own sordid family history. "But that was years before Mom. He still likes to bring it up, though, just to see Teather's face." Tiriana's own smirk is lacking a little something, though, as she shifts around. "I wouldn't do him, though. I mean, not 'cause of you or anything, but just... He's an ass. Not the fun kind, either, you know?"
"You riled him up," Giremi points out with a slight smile. "Not that he needs another girl to 'do'. He's got plenty. He'd drink with you the way I won't. Match you drink for drink and see if you're still standing at the end. And if you did try to hit him he'd probably just spar. 'Cause he teaches the Weyrlings y'know. Paddy's ... " he struggles for a moment with the words then lets them go. "He's not like me. I'm not like him. Except we do both have manners and a sense of honor, 'cos Mum taught us that. If I could fight worth a lick, I'd go down for him in a fight."
"You'd go down for him, anyway," Tiriana snickers, more amused by that thought than she probably should be. "I could take him. I mean, if I jumped him by surprise. And kicked him in the balls first, or something." A frown. "Everybody's bigger now," she complains. "It's not fair." There's a long silence, and then, grudgingly, "Like Daddy and R'dur, kinda. Except they don't really talk or anything, but you know what I mean. And me 'n' Cyrra."
"I dunno Tiri," says Giremi slowly. "He's been trained to fight and defend." The harper's hands run soothingly over her hair once more. "And ... yeah. Like that. Only we don't cuss so much." That's an attempt at a joke as he peers into her face, smiling a little.
"So've I," says Tiriana, withdrawing. "Just 'cause I'm a girl and I'm a kid and... I could take him." That defense of her fighting prowess earns enough sulking that she doesn't answer his latter joke, instead moving to stand back up and pace away.
"Like full on training, with practice every day and calisthenics and weight training and the whole nine yards?" asks Giremi skeptically, eyeing Tiri's arms. "Don't get me wrong, you're strong and you look great, but Paddy runs Weyrlings for turns at a time with only a few months' break in between classes. He's not soft, Tiri." He looks a little mournful as she walks away. "Anyway, I'm sure you'd do some damage at least. You're no sissy." Compliments are often a good strategy with Tiriana.
Not enough of one, apparently, because Tiriana looks no more cheered by that assertion than before. "Yeah, sure. Maybe I'd give him a black eye before he squashed me on the ground," she says, kicking at the table in passing. "I'm... I'm going home. I'm tired," she adds finally, not really looking back at Giremi.
Sliding to his feet, Giremi walks steadily enough over towards her with a nod. "It'll be okay, Tiri," he tries to reassure, "he hasn't changed anything with us. At least ... not if you don't want things to change." The table creaks ominously under the force of that kick. "If you're going to bed ... can I kiss you good night?"
Tiriana stops by the door to hesitate, frowning and then glancing over at Giremi and nodding once. "All right," she agrees to that much at least, if without much of the usual spirit as she waits on him, expectant.
Giremi smiles once, gently down at her and pulls her into his arms to kis her rather tenderly, though things being as they are between them, the harper's version of passion takes over quickly enough.
Tiriana, for several moments, is quite willing to go along with that kiss, but apparently, she was for once rather serious about going home. She pulls away from him then, stepping back toward the door to slide it open behind her. "Night," she tells him.
Giremi wasn't actually trying to convince her otherwise for once either. He just hugs her before she steps away and nods. "Good night Tiri. Sleep well." Once she's through the door, he waits until she's down the hall then closes the door, leaning against it after she's gone and pressing his forehead into the wood, eyes pressed tightly shut, a palm laid flat on its surface too then he pushes away from the door and turns to tidy up the room before going to bed himself.