[Log] Don't Call Me Darling
Who: N'thei, Tiriana
When: Day 14, Month 4, Turn 18
Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
What: N'thei has a Job for Tiriana. (Ew, minds out of the gutter, guys!)
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
Contents:
N'thei
Obvious exits:
Hallway Patio Ledge
It's true. The atmosphere has slipped somewhat since the new child-headwoman was essentially banned from doing business in the Snowasis. Things aren't as pristine, tables need polish, drapes need washing, and there's a general fuss being made because no one can find a clean spoon in the whole joint. But N'thei seems inordinately cheerful (for him), though that's likely owing to the fact that he's sitting at a barstool across from a young woman with an unfairly voluptuous bustline while she dries mugs and cares none at all that he's paying more attention to her cleavage than her conversation. Likely happens to her a lot anyway.
Tiriana steps into the Snowasis gingerly, as though some of its increasing grime is going to rub off on her just by passing through the doorway. In fact, she even stops there to survey just how the place has fallen before she continues further inside. Her destination's the bar; N'thei there earns a look and a sneer, particularly as she takes in his line of sight. Tiriana slides up on a stool herself, announces, "Place looks like shit."
N'thei, still preoccupied; "If you don't like it, you're welcome to get the fuck out." The hand that minds his mug uncurls from the handle and points straight on toward the exit. The girl, with a quiet cough that might be meant to hide a chuckle, collects all the cleaned mugs and goes off to put them away, freeing the bronzerider from his long-held spell, allowing him a moment to turn his head and eye Tiriana with the mixture of malevolence and fondness that best suits her presence. "Hired that one yesterday. Three or four more like that and no one will even notice the spotty cups, neh?"
Tiriana does not go. In fact, she puts in her own order for a drink, pointedly ignoring N'thei now. Or at least not looking at him, if not quite ignoring in the end. "I'd notice. Anyway, they're not /that/ impressive. I've seen better." Poor girl, as if being ogled by N'thei wasn't enough, now Tiriana is too, albeit more critically than worshipfully.
She'd notice. "But you're not really my target patron. Want people that can hold their liquor." So saying, N'thei finishes his drink while Tiriana's busy ordering her own. Hunched over the bar already, it's an easy thing for him to reach across and liberate a bottle and a shotglass and set himself up before his eyes chase hers toward cleavage once more. "Always so hard with you, isn't it," he muses aimlessly rather than defend breasts that don't technically belong to him.
"Can too hold it," Tiriana protests, stung enough to glare at N'thei then. Even being set up with her own drink then doesn't really distract her for a couple of moments. "Oh, please, like you're so easy to get along with. Anyway, you'd hate it if I was boring instead.
A snicker, a small one answers her protest, that and a sideways look from N'thei while he tibbles his glass full. "So you're a bitch for my benefit." He collects a second shotglass and sets it just out of his own vicinity and into Tiriana's, prods it toward her with the end of his forefinger, allows her the option to decline this time. "That's sweet, but there are better ways to get on my good side."
The glass, Tiriana eyes. Her mouth purses up. But in the end, she reaches out to wrap fingers around it, accepting the offer after all. "Never say I'm not thoughtful," she tells him, with a certain amount of smugness. "And really. Like what? Go completely topless. Please." Snort.
It's hard, the drink, best with salt-and-lime but N'thei offers nothing to soothe the swallow. He suffers it well enough, hisses briefly, refills his own glass and sets the bottle in between himself and Tiriana. "You? Topless?" His eyes land purposefully on his chesty barmaid, then flicker to Tiriana's ahem-assets. "How do you feel about being debased and violated?" No pause to give her time to answer. "--What do you do here all day? Don't understand the doings of goldriders."
It's probably a good thing Tiriana seems to expect something of that caliber from N'thei; she just scowls and reaches for the glass to fill it and knock back her own drink. She grimaces involuntarily, despite trying hard to look like she wasn't affected at all. "I--do stuff. Plenty of stuff, useful things. /You're/ one to talk about what us goldriders do."
"Not talking. /Asking./" N'thei rests his elbow at the edge of the bar, props his cheek on the turn of his hand, and watches Tiriana struggle at her composure. "You mean to accuse me though. I think. Of being useless." His smile spreads slowly, broadly, eyes bright where they stick to the goldrider. "Would you rather deal with Satiet without me?" Glee; glee at the mere notion.
Tiriana says, "Well. /You're/ one to ask," Tiriana corrects, although this is not as good a retort. His glee at it leaves her confused, though, brows furrowing as she makes half a motion to lift her glass again. "Why, do you butter her up about me when I'm not around?" she asks. Her mouth pulls into a frown. "She's fine. I /like/ her.""
Hah! A big, short laugh erupts from N'thei-- Satiet being likeable, Tiriana liking anyone, lovely thoughts. With the snicker still in his voice, he offers, "Do you. Tell me what you like about her, my darling."
Sourly, Tiriana orders, "Don't call me that." But even she can tell that's going to be a losing battle. She drinks again instead. "She's... You know her, you ought to know as well as I do," complains the girl, scowling as she tries to get thoughts in order. "She's... smart. And mean. Kind of... you know. Manipulative." And these are Satiet's good qualities?
"Will call you whatever I like." Cheerfully too. Finger hooked around the neck of it, N'thei draws the bottle back to his section of the bar while Tiriana orders her list. "Things you wish you were, neh?" Glass to lips, brow raised, he waits through the question.
That does nothing for Tiriana's humor. "No," she snaps. "Well. I am smart. And mean. Just... not manipulative." The way she frowns is probably telling, though, and she takes another sip of her liquor for the moment. "Anyway," Tiriana returns after several seconds, "I don't have to be. I always just beat them down." Pause. "Except... she can do that too."
N'thei empties the glass, another hiss, and sets it down with a loud clink on the bar. "Not /always,/ my darling. From where I sit, looks as though you just do what you're told, and it's Satiet and me that do the telling. Stings a bit, I imagine."
It stings. Tiriana sets the glass down heavily, shooting a dark look at N'thei and then away as she tries to come up with some suitable defense for herself. "Yeah, well, that's just--that's just because that's what I want to do anyway." Lamest excuse ever.
"Is it. Keep drinking." N'thei refills. All else aside, his purpose seems to be the perpetuation of Tiriana's debauchery. Which doesn't seem to be so hard. "How are you at housekeeping?"
"Do you always try to get me drunk?" Tiriana wonders as she watches him refill the glass. Notably, she doesn't stop him, but at least she doesn't down it just yet. Instead, warily, she asks, "What? Why?"
N'thei has to blink once or twice at her question, has to look twice between his hand and her glass. "Only when I'm trying to take advantage of you." And there's the winning smile, the flash of his teeth, the utter lack of anything worth trusting. What-why; "Why do you think."
Tiriana rolls her eyes. "Like I said," she tells him. "It's not going to work. You shouldn't waste your time--I'm sure a busy Weyrleader has better things to do." But that last? Firmly, she informs him, "I am not cleaning your weyr for you."
"I am not telling you to do so, but you would if I were." N'thei drums his fingers cheerfully and plunks the cork into the neck of the bottle. For now. "Need someone to oversee housekeeping here. Keep us stocked on clean dishes, make sure the tables get washed, just oversee the housekeeping. Someone who can look the other way when she's told."
"Would not," Tiriana wants the last word on that subject. The latter, though--she draws back, brows arching as she follows his line of thinking. "Me?" Yes, she's that slow. "So... more ordering people to housekeep than actual house-keeping. Wait, what's in it for me?"
Simply, "What do you want?" There's no doubt in his mind that it's in N'thei's power to grant it.
Such an easy question; it takes quite a lot of thought from Tiriana, and in the end all she comes up with is, "Don't call me 'darling,' for a start."
Sometimes, it's written all over his face: There are a lot of other pet names N'thei can come up with. "Granted, for a start. --I pay my people well, if it helps make up your mind quicker. Marks or pretty things, whichever you like better."
"Both?" suggests Tiriana. "Lot of work, fixing this dump back up right." And she pointedly looks around, eyeing the state of the bar. "And that not-looking-when-I'm-told part, that'll be tough too."
N'thei scrapes some imaginary crumbs off the edge of the bar and into the cup of his palm, then looks around for some place to put it. Nowhere-- the floor-- dusts his palms briskly against each other. "You get used to it if you're smart. If not... well then, you and Milani will have plenty to talk about. Not a bad man to work for either, good pay, only grope when I'm very drunk, don't expect you to be friendly to patrons or anything degrading like that."
Maybe taking the possibility of sexual favors for the customers off the table does it. Or invoking Milani's name. Whatever it is, Tiriana finally nods. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Good." N'thei should sound surprised or happy or something, but no. Foregone conclusion. While he stands, from a pocket, he plops a small bag that clinks just-so on the bar in front of Tiriana. "Hire some girls to wash dishes for starters, and get someone to wash all these curtains, and keep whatever's left over. --And pay for your drinks. No one drinks free."
"Right, right," Tiriana agrees, already reaching for the bag to open it up and check just how much is in there. "I'll handle it, don't worry. Do a better job than that Milani, too."
How much is in there-- enough. And then some. Certainly enough for Tiriana to get started right, or enough to botch it up royally. "Doubt that, but you'll do the job the way I want, and that's where it matters." N'thei's not leaving, not really, just sliding down the bar to continue peering down blouses as long as there are blouses with peering down.
"I will," Tiriana confirms, and since she now has money, and a couple of new jobs to do, she's the one who stands up now. "Well. I have Things to do, so I can't sit around and get drunk and stare at women all night," she announces then, pocketing her take as she turns to go.
Now now, if Tiriana was smart enough to pay people to do all her work for her, she too could ogle boobies all night.
When: Day 14, Month 4, Turn 18
Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
What: N'thei has a Job for Tiriana. (Ew, minds out of the gutter, guys!)
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
Contents:
N'thei
Obvious exits:
Hallway Patio Ledge
It's true. The atmosphere has slipped somewhat since the new child-headwoman was essentially banned from doing business in the Snowasis. Things aren't as pristine, tables need polish, drapes need washing, and there's a general fuss being made because no one can find a clean spoon in the whole joint. But N'thei seems inordinately cheerful (for him), though that's likely owing to the fact that he's sitting at a barstool across from a young woman with an unfairly voluptuous bustline while she dries mugs and cares none at all that he's paying more attention to her cleavage than her conversation. Likely happens to her a lot anyway.
Tiriana steps into the Snowasis gingerly, as though some of its increasing grime is going to rub off on her just by passing through the doorway. In fact, she even stops there to survey just how the place has fallen before she continues further inside. Her destination's the bar; N'thei there earns a look and a sneer, particularly as she takes in his line of sight. Tiriana slides up on a stool herself, announces, "Place looks like shit."
N'thei, still preoccupied; "If you don't like it, you're welcome to get the fuck out." The hand that minds his mug uncurls from the handle and points straight on toward the exit. The girl, with a quiet cough that might be meant to hide a chuckle, collects all the cleaned mugs and goes off to put them away, freeing the bronzerider from his long-held spell, allowing him a moment to turn his head and eye Tiriana with the mixture of malevolence and fondness that best suits her presence. "Hired that one yesterday. Three or four more like that and no one will even notice the spotty cups, neh?"
Tiriana does not go. In fact, she puts in her own order for a drink, pointedly ignoring N'thei now. Or at least not looking at him, if not quite ignoring in the end. "I'd notice. Anyway, they're not /that/ impressive. I've seen better." Poor girl, as if being ogled by N'thei wasn't enough, now Tiriana is too, albeit more critically than worshipfully.
She'd notice. "But you're not really my target patron. Want people that can hold their liquor." So saying, N'thei finishes his drink while Tiriana's busy ordering her own. Hunched over the bar already, it's an easy thing for him to reach across and liberate a bottle and a shotglass and set himself up before his eyes chase hers toward cleavage once more. "Always so hard with you, isn't it," he muses aimlessly rather than defend breasts that don't technically belong to him.
"Can too hold it," Tiriana protests, stung enough to glare at N'thei then. Even being set up with her own drink then doesn't really distract her for a couple of moments. "Oh, please, like you're so easy to get along with. Anyway, you'd hate it if I was boring instead.
A snicker, a small one answers her protest, that and a sideways look from N'thei while he tibbles his glass full. "So you're a bitch for my benefit." He collects a second shotglass and sets it just out of his own vicinity and into Tiriana's, prods it toward her with the end of his forefinger, allows her the option to decline this time. "That's sweet, but there are better ways to get on my good side."
The glass, Tiriana eyes. Her mouth purses up. But in the end, she reaches out to wrap fingers around it, accepting the offer after all. "Never say I'm not thoughtful," she tells him, with a certain amount of smugness. "And really. Like what? Go completely topless. Please." Snort.
It's hard, the drink, best with salt-and-lime but N'thei offers nothing to soothe the swallow. He suffers it well enough, hisses briefly, refills his own glass and sets the bottle in between himself and Tiriana. "You? Topless?" His eyes land purposefully on his chesty barmaid, then flicker to Tiriana's ahem-assets. "How do you feel about being debased and violated?" No pause to give her time to answer. "--What do you do here all day? Don't understand the doings of goldriders."
It's probably a good thing Tiriana seems to expect something of that caliber from N'thei; she just scowls and reaches for the glass to fill it and knock back her own drink. She grimaces involuntarily, despite trying hard to look like she wasn't affected at all. "I--do stuff. Plenty of stuff, useful things. /You're/ one to talk about what us goldriders do."
"Not talking. /Asking./" N'thei rests his elbow at the edge of the bar, props his cheek on the turn of his hand, and watches Tiriana struggle at her composure. "You mean to accuse me though. I think. Of being useless." His smile spreads slowly, broadly, eyes bright where they stick to the goldrider. "Would you rather deal with Satiet without me?" Glee; glee at the mere notion.
Tiriana says, "Well. /You're/ one to ask," Tiriana corrects, although this is not as good a retort. His glee at it leaves her confused, though, brows furrowing as she makes half a motion to lift her glass again. "Why, do you butter her up about me when I'm not around?" she asks. Her mouth pulls into a frown. "She's fine. I /like/ her.""
Hah! A big, short laugh erupts from N'thei-- Satiet being likeable, Tiriana liking anyone, lovely thoughts. With the snicker still in his voice, he offers, "Do you. Tell me what you like about her, my darling."
Sourly, Tiriana orders, "Don't call me that." But even she can tell that's going to be a losing battle. She drinks again instead. "She's... You know her, you ought to know as well as I do," complains the girl, scowling as she tries to get thoughts in order. "She's... smart. And mean. Kind of... you know. Manipulative." And these are Satiet's good qualities?
"Will call you whatever I like." Cheerfully too. Finger hooked around the neck of it, N'thei draws the bottle back to his section of the bar while Tiriana orders her list. "Things you wish you were, neh?" Glass to lips, brow raised, he waits through the question.
That does nothing for Tiriana's humor. "No," she snaps. "Well. I am smart. And mean. Just... not manipulative." The way she frowns is probably telling, though, and she takes another sip of her liquor for the moment. "Anyway," Tiriana returns after several seconds, "I don't have to be. I always just beat them down." Pause. "Except... she can do that too."
N'thei empties the glass, another hiss, and sets it down with a loud clink on the bar. "Not /always,/ my darling. From where I sit, looks as though you just do what you're told, and it's Satiet and me that do the telling. Stings a bit, I imagine."
It stings. Tiriana sets the glass down heavily, shooting a dark look at N'thei and then away as she tries to come up with some suitable defense for herself. "Yeah, well, that's just--that's just because that's what I want to do anyway." Lamest excuse ever.
"Is it. Keep drinking." N'thei refills. All else aside, his purpose seems to be the perpetuation of Tiriana's debauchery. Which doesn't seem to be so hard. "How are you at housekeeping?"
"Do you always try to get me drunk?" Tiriana wonders as she watches him refill the glass. Notably, she doesn't stop him, but at least she doesn't down it just yet. Instead, warily, she asks, "What? Why?"
N'thei has to blink once or twice at her question, has to look twice between his hand and her glass. "Only when I'm trying to take advantage of you." And there's the winning smile, the flash of his teeth, the utter lack of anything worth trusting. What-why; "Why do you think."
Tiriana rolls her eyes. "Like I said," she tells him. "It's not going to work. You shouldn't waste your time--I'm sure a busy Weyrleader has better things to do." But that last? Firmly, she informs him, "I am not cleaning your weyr for you."
"I am not telling you to do so, but you would if I were." N'thei drums his fingers cheerfully and plunks the cork into the neck of the bottle. For now. "Need someone to oversee housekeeping here. Keep us stocked on clean dishes, make sure the tables get washed, just oversee the housekeeping. Someone who can look the other way when she's told."
"Would not," Tiriana wants the last word on that subject. The latter, though--she draws back, brows arching as she follows his line of thinking. "Me?" Yes, she's that slow. "So... more ordering people to housekeep than actual house-keeping. Wait, what's in it for me?"
Simply, "What do you want?" There's no doubt in his mind that it's in N'thei's power to grant it.
Such an easy question; it takes quite a lot of thought from Tiriana, and in the end all she comes up with is, "Don't call me 'darling,' for a start."
Sometimes, it's written all over his face: There are a lot of other pet names N'thei can come up with. "Granted, for a start. --I pay my people well, if it helps make up your mind quicker. Marks or pretty things, whichever you like better."
"Both?" suggests Tiriana. "Lot of work, fixing this dump back up right." And she pointedly looks around, eyeing the state of the bar. "And that not-looking-when-I'm-told part, that'll be tough too."
N'thei scrapes some imaginary crumbs off the edge of the bar and into the cup of his palm, then looks around for some place to put it. Nowhere-- the floor-- dusts his palms briskly against each other. "You get used to it if you're smart. If not... well then, you and Milani will have plenty to talk about. Not a bad man to work for either, good pay, only grope when I'm very drunk, don't expect you to be friendly to patrons or anything degrading like that."
Maybe taking the possibility of sexual favors for the customers off the table does it. Or invoking Milani's name. Whatever it is, Tiriana finally nods. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Good." N'thei should sound surprised or happy or something, but no. Foregone conclusion. While he stands, from a pocket, he plops a small bag that clinks just-so on the bar in front of Tiriana. "Hire some girls to wash dishes for starters, and get someone to wash all these curtains, and keep whatever's left over. --And pay for your drinks. No one drinks free."
"Right, right," Tiriana agrees, already reaching for the bag to open it up and check just how much is in there. "I'll handle it, don't worry. Do a better job than that Milani, too."
How much is in there-- enough. And then some. Certainly enough for Tiriana to get started right, or enough to botch it up royally. "Doubt that, but you'll do the job the way I want, and that's where it matters." N'thei's not leaving, not really, just sliding down the bar to continue peering down blouses as long as there are blouses with peering down.
"I will," Tiriana confirms, and since she now has money, and a couple of new jobs to do, she's the one who stands up now. "Well. I have Things to do, so I can't sit around and get drunk and stare at women all night," she announces then, pocketing her take as she turns to go.
Now now, if Tiriana was smart enough to pay people to do all her work for her, she too could ogle boobies all night.