Available.
Chaes meets Vek. Guess what happens! That's right. They talk about stuff. And stuff.
Full dark sees the Lucky Seven ramping up to full swing, and though there are empty chairs and even empty tables, they are outnumbered. There's a saucy redhead behind the bar, doling out drinks and winks in equal measure, and a roar, half pleasure, half anger, erupts from the gaming room. Taking it all in with a placid grin is Raveki, either off work now or at least not on bar duty. She's lounging at an otherwise empty table with the sort of squat, heavy glass that usually means strong drink, offering a word now and then to a passing customer - mostly tart and flirty from the looks of things.
This particular bronzerider hasn't been quite as regular at the Lucky Seven since his dragon caught a certain gold and he got handed a certain knot. He's not wearing that knot now but it doesn't help entirely. There are still people that know who he is, of course. And Ch'son ignores them for the most part on his way toward the bar to get himself a drink. He's apparently in the mood for something strong because that's what he ends up with when he turns away again and moves to find a place to sit. Without much in the way of greeting, he slips into a seat across from Raveki and takes a drink. He must not be in the mood for cards.
It's not like the Red Sea parting when Ch'son walks in or anything. And not even like those Westerns where all the talking and the piano stop all at once. But people notice, heads turn, there's some murmuring in his wake. It's enough for Raveki, who hasn't met the esteemed Weyrleader yet, to perk up from her glass and take note. And then he plops down across from her which makes her brows go up for one beat and a sultry smile that might look a bit rehearsed claim her mouth the next. "Hi there sugar," she offers in a smokey drawl. "Or d'you prefer to be called sir?"
That would be awesome, though, Ch'son's presence causing that sort of reaction. Fortunately once he's settled and not joining in any games anywhere or doing anything particularly noteworthy, interest in the bronzerider wanes back to something more normal. "Don't much care what y' want to call me," he admits with an easy grin. "Prefer y' didn't call me sir, though. Less it gets y' goin'." And that makes him lift a brow slightly. Does it?
And once he has apparently chosen some company too, most likely. There's at least one sister who returns her attention to a companion momentarily neglected and not without some disappointment. Raveki takes note of that with a faint grin, some hint of smugness tipping the curve of her lips. She considers the question with a fingertip circling the rim of her glass, then shrugs. "Not unless you want it to, and sounds like you don't. Just Ch'son then?" Of course she knows who he is, and to be fair, offers, "I'm Vek. Raveki if you prefer."
The company may have been chosen for that precise reason. Although that might be giving Ch'son a little too much credit according to certain people. "Or Chaes. Chaes works just fine, Vek." He takes a drink, considering her as he enjoys that, then asks as he shifts forward in his seat to rest one arm on the surface of the table, "Ain't intrudin' on nothin', am I? 'Cause--" It's left open and he glances off to the side. He can go if he is. But he clearly doesn't think that's the case, looking as comfortable as he does.
His choice of name to use deepens the curve of her berry-stained lips, and when he leans forward so does she. There's some subtlety to it, but the mirroring isn't likely to be totally unconscious. She ends up with both elbows propped on the tabletop and her chin resting in her palms. "Doesn't look like I'm busy does it? Chaes?" She says his name slow, accentuating the movement of her mouth around the word, then her teeth capture her lower lip. "Maybe I was just saving that seat for you." A wink makes it a tease, and she drawls, "I just got off, but I'm enjoying a drink so I might as well have company too."
"No, it don't." That's obvious enough. Ch'son has wandering eyes but he's not trying to hide the fact at all. He looks down, chest-wards, but it doesn't linger for as long as it might otherwise. He looks at her drink instead, then down at his own. "Just for me," he repeats with a chuckle. "That's a nice thought. I'll accept y' might not mind company, least ways." Blue eyes come back up, thoughtful.
If Raveki is used to anything, expecting anything, it's roving eyes. Though she must notice it, she doesn't let on. Unless that well timed inhalation is by intent not coincidence as it may well be - it certainly shows her slight curves to better advantage. His next glance seems to remind her of her drink and she takes a long sip, swallowing the amber liquid with a tiny exhalation of pleasure but no wince. "Glad you thought it was nice, it was meant to be." Thoughtful blue, meet curious brown. Rather than press him about the wheels turning in that boyish blonde head of his though, she just arches a brow. Yeeees?
Ch'son most certainly notices that well timed inhalation. And he's definitely not about to let on that he doesn't. That's just not the way he plays. Subtle is for cards, perhaps, and not women. But if he has anything more than looking in mind, he doesn't say so. "Y' said you're off, aye? When are y' on again?" The question fixes his gaze on her for at least that long but then he's glancing toward a woman that's perhaps one of his own regulars but not long enough to catch her attention. That or she's deliberately not paying any attention to him.
Is she to be brushed off so easily? When his glance roams she shifts her weight, and if the toe of that heeled sandal should happen to graze his calf, well, it's a small table and she does have long legs. She's not apologizing for the touch though, her smile still warm, maybe just a bit predatory. "I got off, from working behind the bar. If I'm sitting here I still have the... shall we say, potential to work. If someone needed me to lend a hand."
The touch to his calf doesn't need an apology. He might even shift his leg to prolong the contact. Her choice of words turns a lingering grin into a full-fledged smile across Ch'son's face. "I'll be honest, gorgeous-- I didn't come here lookin' for a... hand. Got plenty a my own." Yes, he amuses himself. "Didn't really come lookin' for nothin' truthfully. But I'd feel bad if I was sittin' here throwin' off your business. You don't ever just sit in here?" The last question is curious.
Glad to oblige, Raveki lets the side of her foot slide up his calf, cocks it a bit to let the heel dig with the slightest pinch of sharpness and then the foot is gone. Meanwhile she's offering up a feigned little pout, eyeing him from under her lashes. "No hands? Well that might be a little dull, but maybe if you made up for it..." She trails off, pout fading into a grin - she's laughing at herself a bit, says the spark in her eye. "You aren't throwing off my business if you end up being business, for one. And for two, I *am* just sitting in here. But for the most part, I'm also available most of the time. Do you think Ha- a trader would refuse to sell you wares just because it wasn't his hour at the booth"
The sharpness earns a look, Ch'son attempting to seem scandalized but not hiding a rather keen interest very well at all. "'Spose that's true enough. If I end up bein' business." He doesn't seem especially bothered by the fact that that's really all he is here. Business. In fact, he might even like it. At least he seems pleased enough until the last and his grin falter vaguely. "Hal?" he guesses. "Wouldn't put it past him." Emphasis on the last. "Anyone else, though." He nods. Point taken.
Interest was certainly the goal there, but somehow Raveki seems as amused as pleased, that smug angle staking a claim once more on the shape of her mouth. "And if not, then I'm enjoying my time off. See, it works out either way. Regardless though, if you wanted me aren't you the fucking Weyrleader now? Aren't you supposed to say something like, 'Well you're working again now, woman, get your ass upstairs?'" Again that low drawl, whiskey laced with honey, unborn laughter underlying the words. A blink then, lashes flicking wider. "Hal, yeah, he's the only trader I've met."
A chuckle for that. "The fuckin' Weyrleader," like it's some inside joke. Ch'son leans back in his seat again and lifts his glass for a long drink. His hand moves to set it back down carefully and his hand doesn't withdraw after it's settled. He's watching her, though, not the glass, and presumably still rather enjoying the view. "Don't think I need t' say it when y' say it so nice already." But there's some distracted quality to his voice now. Probably thinking about upstairs. "That's a shame. There's a real nice lookin' one. Blonde." He must not know her name. Or he's forgotten it. "I think I owe 'er a drink..." come to think of it.
"Damn straight." With a lift of her glass like a toast without the clink. Raveki's still grinning but it's more like laughing with him than laughing at him, which the previous smirk might have been a bit. "Well you don't, but you could have started with that, is all I'm saying." He's watching her and she's watching the hand on that glass, then her gaze slides back up to his. "Oh." Blink. "Do you mean Evaly? I guess I wasn't thinking of her as a *trader* per se, and you might as well forget about that drink. I don't think she appreciates it much. She'll probably just send you to me." That actually does make a bubble of a chuckle break the surface, again like it's an inside joke but one he hasn't heard yet.
"Evaly," he tries it but it's hard to say if it sticks or not. "She was mannin' a booth out there in the market. What else would y' call her? She has real nice..." there's a motion of Ch'son's hand like he's miming a handful but instead he says, "Lips." A moment to think about the lips in question even though he glances at Raveki's. "Don't think she does either. Seems like none a the ones as I'd try chasin' appreciate that. But can't imagine bein' sent t' you is any bad."
A slow nod, as if the gesture might help him place the name. But no. "I don't know, I didn't get the sense that she's with a trader caravan or..." she trails off lamely with a shrug. "Or maybe I just didn't really think about it. We met on the beach and talked about other things." That don't bear rehashing apparently, though she does arch a brow at that handful, the moment of thought. "Maybe you're doing too much chasing and not enough being chased, sugar. Most girls appreciate a bit of a challenge you know." The compliment - if it can be called that - makes her laugh softly. "Well thanks."
"Guess it don't matter much." Ch'son is willing enough to shrug off the whole trader this entirely. Especially if it means not talking about Halsten in particular. "Most girls're challenging all on their own. But," he says, letting go of his glass to tap a finger to the table top, "Backed off the chasin'. Maybe a little too much." He shrugs. "Mosta those that do it ain't the sort I'd be after m'self, usually. This," a gesture to encompass where they are, evidently, "is easier, aye?"
Raveki is happy enough to let the subject pass with a little half-shrug, half-nod. Sure, either way, whatever. She's certainly not going to pursue talking about Halsten or some other blonde girl with the handfuls and the lips. He taps the table, she takes a sip, then sets her glass beside his. "Most of those whoe chase you, or most of those who *want* to chase you if you'd just let them?" A quizzical lift of the brow, but then that sweep of his hand makes her smirk. "Easier, sure. And no strings, no romantic entanglements. That's what I'm always saying. Seems like a lot of folks around here want all the trappings though." Tsk.
The question doesn't seem to be one that Ch'son is readily prepared to answer. And it's not because he doesn't want to. He just doesn't know how. There's a slight shake of his head, a momentary uncertainty on his face before it's schooled away. "Y' think there's those that ain't chasin' that want to?" He seems doubtful. But he grins anyway, inclines his head. "Ain't lookin' for trappin's. Just a good time." Beat. Speaking of good times, "Y' always do business here or are y' willin' t' travel?" He glances toward the door like it's part of the question.
Raveki lets him think about that while she lifts her glass, watches him over the rim while most of what is left in it slides down his throat. You'd think it was water, or at least not anything that looks and smells so strong by the way she just wipes her mouth with the back of her hand like it was water. "If you're as blunt with them as you are with me? You never know, but some girls like a little cat and mouse, you know. You don't always want to be so available." Good times and advice about other women, available for one low rate. It doesn't phase her if it doesn't phase him. "So long as my bit goes back in the coffer I'm willing to travel. It's not like you don't have a dragon to tattle if you toss my lifeless corpse off the dock or something." Yes, because that is exactly what he was implying. A slightly sheepish little grin takes the edge off. "You have some place in mind?"
"I don't wanna be available." Ch'son says this, too, with a dubious undercurrent. "I'll keep that in mind." Maybe. He picks up his glass to throw back the rest, then puts it down again, this time not so carefully. He shifts toward the edge of his seat like he's getting ready to get up. "Not far, really. My place. Won't even be stuck up high." The ground weyr thing has many benefits but this might be one of the best. "Not that I'd have y' walkin' the whole way by yourself. Don't mind stayin' here, either. One way or the other, you're mine for the rest a the night." Just in case that wasn't obvious already.
"You. Don't?" Raveki sort of stumbles over the words, briefly baffled. But then he's scooting forward and she lifts a hand to the girl behind the bar. It's like the equivalent of letting your friend know where you're going and putting a tie on your doorknob all at once. Before he can stand she slips around to place herself close at his side, a hand dropping to curl lightly around the back of his neck. "Never been in a Weyrleader's weyr before," she confesses, gushing maybe a bit more than necessary. "Let's do that." It was pretty obvious already and she curls up at his side as they prepare to leave.
"Your words," he reminds her. And if Ch'son has any issues with gushing, he doesn't say so. And by the grin that he gives her as he does rise, wrapping an arm around her waist, there are no issues whatsoever. "Ain't really 'me' yet but it'll get there. Guess you'll just have to come back." Although he'll probably reserve the final judgment on that until after this night is over. It's apparently safe to assume, though. Ch'son. Sex. They kind of go hand in hand. "There's even a bath." Like it's some selling point. The bronzerider leaves a small tip on the table as he points them toward the door. There will probably be a larger one later for Raveki.
"Gosh, a bath?" For a moment Raveki is all wide brown eyes and breathy words, but it fades, the innocent dumb blonde thing feigned. Especially since she's a brunette. Still she nuzzles into his side and slings her arm around his waist, and she's not exactly hard to pry out of there. No comment for next time though really what's she gonna do, say no? And as for the tip, don't worry, they'll be discussing price before they get to said weyr and bath. A tip on top? Gee what a charmer.
D23, M6, T22, summer night
Full dark sees the Lucky Seven ramping up to full swing, and though there are empty chairs and even empty tables, they are outnumbered. There's a saucy redhead behind the bar, doling out drinks and winks in equal measure, and a roar, half pleasure, half anger, erupts from the gaming room. Taking it all in with a placid grin is Raveki, either off work now or at least not on bar duty. She's lounging at an otherwise empty table with the sort of squat, heavy glass that usually means strong drink, offering a word now and then to a passing customer - mostly tart and flirty from the looks of things.
This particular bronzerider hasn't been quite as regular at the Lucky Seven since his dragon caught a certain gold and he got handed a certain knot. He's not wearing that knot now but it doesn't help entirely. There are still people that know who he is, of course. And Ch'son ignores them for the most part on his way toward the bar to get himself a drink. He's apparently in the mood for something strong because that's what he ends up with when he turns away again and moves to find a place to sit. Without much in the way of greeting, he slips into a seat across from Raveki and takes a drink. He must not be in the mood for cards.
It's not like the Red Sea parting when Ch'son walks in or anything. And not even like those Westerns where all the talking and the piano stop all at once. But people notice, heads turn, there's some murmuring in his wake. It's enough for Raveki, who hasn't met the esteemed Weyrleader yet, to perk up from her glass and take note. And then he plops down across from her which makes her brows go up for one beat and a sultry smile that might look a bit rehearsed claim her mouth the next. "Hi there sugar," she offers in a smokey drawl. "Or d'you prefer to be called sir?"
That would be awesome, though, Ch'son's presence causing that sort of reaction. Fortunately once he's settled and not joining in any games anywhere or doing anything particularly noteworthy, interest in the bronzerider wanes back to something more normal. "Don't much care what y' want to call me," he admits with an easy grin. "Prefer y' didn't call me sir, though. Less it gets y' goin'." And that makes him lift a brow slightly. Does it?
And once he has apparently chosen some company too, most likely. There's at least one sister who returns her attention to a companion momentarily neglected and not without some disappointment. Raveki takes note of that with a faint grin, some hint of smugness tipping the curve of her lips. She considers the question with a fingertip circling the rim of her glass, then shrugs. "Not unless you want it to, and sounds like you don't. Just Ch'son then?" Of course she knows who he is, and to be fair, offers, "I'm Vek. Raveki if you prefer."
The company may have been chosen for that precise reason. Although that might be giving Ch'son a little too much credit according to certain people. "Or Chaes. Chaes works just fine, Vek." He takes a drink, considering her as he enjoys that, then asks as he shifts forward in his seat to rest one arm on the surface of the table, "Ain't intrudin' on nothin', am I? 'Cause--" It's left open and he glances off to the side. He can go if he is. But he clearly doesn't think that's the case, looking as comfortable as he does.
His choice of name to use deepens the curve of her berry-stained lips, and when he leans forward so does she. There's some subtlety to it, but the mirroring isn't likely to be totally unconscious. She ends up with both elbows propped on the tabletop and her chin resting in her palms. "Doesn't look like I'm busy does it? Chaes?" She says his name slow, accentuating the movement of her mouth around the word, then her teeth capture her lower lip. "Maybe I was just saving that seat for you." A wink makes it a tease, and she drawls, "I just got off, but I'm enjoying a drink so I might as well have company too."
"No, it don't." That's obvious enough. Ch'son has wandering eyes but he's not trying to hide the fact at all. He looks down, chest-wards, but it doesn't linger for as long as it might otherwise. He looks at her drink instead, then down at his own. "Just for me," he repeats with a chuckle. "That's a nice thought. I'll accept y' might not mind company, least ways." Blue eyes come back up, thoughtful.
If Raveki is used to anything, expecting anything, it's roving eyes. Though she must notice it, she doesn't let on. Unless that well timed inhalation is by intent not coincidence as it may well be - it certainly shows her slight curves to better advantage. His next glance seems to remind her of her drink and she takes a long sip, swallowing the amber liquid with a tiny exhalation of pleasure but no wince. "Glad you thought it was nice, it was meant to be." Thoughtful blue, meet curious brown. Rather than press him about the wheels turning in that boyish blonde head of his though, she just arches a brow. Yeeees?
Ch'son most certainly notices that well timed inhalation. And he's definitely not about to let on that he doesn't. That's just not the way he plays. Subtle is for cards, perhaps, and not women. But if he has anything more than looking in mind, he doesn't say so. "Y' said you're off, aye? When are y' on again?" The question fixes his gaze on her for at least that long but then he's glancing toward a woman that's perhaps one of his own regulars but not long enough to catch her attention. That or she's deliberately not paying any attention to him.
Is she to be brushed off so easily? When his glance roams she shifts her weight, and if the toe of that heeled sandal should happen to graze his calf, well, it's a small table and she does have long legs. She's not apologizing for the touch though, her smile still warm, maybe just a bit predatory. "I got off, from working behind the bar. If I'm sitting here I still have the... shall we say, potential to work. If someone needed me to lend a hand."
The touch to his calf doesn't need an apology. He might even shift his leg to prolong the contact. Her choice of words turns a lingering grin into a full-fledged smile across Ch'son's face. "I'll be honest, gorgeous-- I didn't come here lookin' for a... hand. Got plenty a my own." Yes, he amuses himself. "Didn't really come lookin' for nothin' truthfully. But I'd feel bad if I was sittin' here throwin' off your business. You don't ever just sit in here?" The last question is curious.
Glad to oblige, Raveki lets the side of her foot slide up his calf, cocks it a bit to let the heel dig with the slightest pinch of sharpness and then the foot is gone. Meanwhile she's offering up a feigned little pout, eyeing him from under her lashes. "No hands? Well that might be a little dull, but maybe if you made up for it..." She trails off, pout fading into a grin - she's laughing at herself a bit, says the spark in her eye. "You aren't throwing off my business if you end up being business, for one. And for two, I *am* just sitting in here. But for the most part, I'm also available most of the time. Do you think Ha- a trader would refuse to sell you wares just because it wasn't his hour at the booth"
The sharpness earns a look, Ch'son attempting to seem scandalized but not hiding a rather keen interest very well at all. "'Spose that's true enough. If I end up bein' business." He doesn't seem especially bothered by the fact that that's really all he is here. Business. In fact, he might even like it. At least he seems pleased enough until the last and his grin falter vaguely. "Hal?" he guesses. "Wouldn't put it past him." Emphasis on the last. "Anyone else, though." He nods. Point taken.
Interest was certainly the goal there, but somehow Raveki seems as amused as pleased, that smug angle staking a claim once more on the shape of her mouth. "And if not, then I'm enjoying my time off. See, it works out either way. Regardless though, if you wanted me aren't you the fucking Weyrleader now? Aren't you supposed to say something like, 'Well you're working again now, woman, get your ass upstairs?'" Again that low drawl, whiskey laced with honey, unborn laughter underlying the words. A blink then, lashes flicking wider. "Hal, yeah, he's the only trader I've met."
A chuckle for that. "The fuckin' Weyrleader," like it's some inside joke. Ch'son leans back in his seat again and lifts his glass for a long drink. His hand moves to set it back down carefully and his hand doesn't withdraw after it's settled. He's watching her, though, not the glass, and presumably still rather enjoying the view. "Don't think I need t' say it when y' say it so nice already." But there's some distracted quality to his voice now. Probably thinking about upstairs. "That's a shame. There's a real nice lookin' one. Blonde." He must not know her name. Or he's forgotten it. "I think I owe 'er a drink..." come to think of it.
"Damn straight." With a lift of her glass like a toast without the clink. Raveki's still grinning but it's more like laughing with him than laughing at him, which the previous smirk might have been a bit. "Well you don't, but you could have started with that, is all I'm saying." He's watching her and she's watching the hand on that glass, then her gaze slides back up to his. "Oh." Blink. "Do you mean Evaly? I guess I wasn't thinking of her as a *trader* per se, and you might as well forget about that drink. I don't think she appreciates it much. She'll probably just send you to me." That actually does make a bubble of a chuckle break the surface, again like it's an inside joke but one he hasn't heard yet.
"Evaly," he tries it but it's hard to say if it sticks or not. "She was mannin' a booth out there in the market. What else would y' call her? She has real nice..." there's a motion of Ch'son's hand like he's miming a handful but instead he says, "Lips." A moment to think about the lips in question even though he glances at Raveki's. "Don't think she does either. Seems like none a the ones as I'd try chasin' appreciate that. But can't imagine bein' sent t' you is any bad."
A slow nod, as if the gesture might help him place the name. But no. "I don't know, I didn't get the sense that she's with a trader caravan or..." she trails off lamely with a shrug. "Or maybe I just didn't really think about it. We met on the beach and talked about other things." That don't bear rehashing apparently, though she does arch a brow at that handful, the moment of thought. "Maybe you're doing too much chasing and not enough being chased, sugar. Most girls appreciate a bit of a challenge you know." The compliment - if it can be called that - makes her laugh softly. "Well thanks."
"Guess it don't matter much." Ch'son is willing enough to shrug off the whole trader this entirely. Especially if it means not talking about Halsten in particular. "Most girls're challenging all on their own. But," he says, letting go of his glass to tap a finger to the table top, "Backed off the chasin'. Maybe a little too much." He shrugs. "Mosta those that do it ain't the sort I'd be after m'self, usually. This," a gesture to encompass where they are, evidently, "is easier, aye?"
Raveki is happy enough to let the subject pass with a little half-shrug, half-nod. Sure, either way, whatever. She's certainly not going to pursue talking about Halsten or some other blonde girl with the handfuls and the lips. He taps the table, she takes a sip, then sets her glass beside his. "Most of those whoe chase you, or most of those who *want* to chase you if you'd just let them?" A quizzical lift of the brow, but then that sweep of his hand makes her smirk. "Easier, sure. And no strings, no romantic entanglements. That's what I'm always saying. Seems like a lot of folks around here want all the trappings though." Tsk.
The question doesn't seem to be one that Ch'son is readily prepared to answer. And it's not because he doesn't want to. He just doesn't know how. There's a slight shake of his head, a momentary uncertainty on his face before it's schooled away. "Y' think there's those that ain't chasin' that want to?" He seems doubtful. But he grins anyway, inclines his head. "Ain't lookin' for trappin's. Just a good time." Beat. Speaking of good times, "Y' always do business here or are y' willin' t' travel?" He glances toward the door like it's part of the question.
Raveki lets him think about that while she lifts her glass, watches him over the rim while most of what is left in it slides down his throat. You'd think it was water, or at least not anything that looks and smells so strong by the way she just wipes her mouth with the back of her hand like it was water. "If you're as blunt with them as you are with me? You never know, but some girls like a little cat and mouse, you know. You don't always want to be so available." Good times and advice about other women, available for one low rate. It doesn't phase her if it doesn't phase him. "So long as my bit goes back in the coffer I'm willing to travel. It's not like you don't have a dragon to tattle if you toss my lifeless corpse off the dock or something." Yes, because that is exactly what he was implying. A slightly sheepish little grin takes the edge off. "You have some place in mind?"
"I don't wanna be available." Ch'son says this, too, with a dubious undercurrent. "I'll keep that in mind." Maybe. He picks up his glass to throw back the rest, then puts it down again, this time not so carefully. He shifts toward the edge of his seat like he's getting ready to get up. "Not far, really. My place. Won't even be stuck up high." The ground weyr thing has many benefits but this might be one of the best. "Not that I'd have y' walkin' the whole way by yourself. Don't mind stayin' here, either. One way or the other, you're mine for the rest a the night." Just in case that wasn't obvious already.
"You. Don't?" Raveki sort of stumbles over the words, briefly baffled. But then he's scooting forward and she lifts a hand to the girl behind the bar. It's like the equivalent of letting your friend know where you're going and putting a tie on your doorknob all at once. Before he can stand she slips around to place herself close at his side, a hand dropping to curl lightly around the back of his neck. "Never been in a Weyrleader's weyr before," she confesses, gushing maybe a bit more than necessary. "Let's do that." It was pretty obvious already and she curls up at his side as they prepare to leave.
"Your words," he reminds her. And if Ch'son has any issues with gushing, he doesn't say so. And by the grin that he gives her as he does rise, wrapping an arm around her waist, there are no issues whatsoever. "Ain't really 'me' yet but it'll get there. Guess you'll just have to come back." Although he'll probably reserve the final judgment on that until after this night is over. It's apparently safe to assume, though. Ch'son. Sex. They kind of go hand in hand. "There's even a bath." Like it's some selling point. The bronzerider leaves a small tip on the table as he points them toward the door. There will probably be a larger one later for Raveki.
"Gosh, a bath?" For a moment Raveki is all wide brown eyes and breathy words, but it fades, the innocent dumb blonde thing feigned. Especially since she's a brunette. Still she nuzzles into his side and slings her arm around his waist, and she's not exactly hard to pry out of there. No comment for next time though really what's she gonna do, say no? And as for the tip, don't worry, they'll be discussing price before they get to said weyr and bath. A tip on top? Gee what a charmer.
D23, M6, T22, summer night