Excuses.
Chaes intercepts Loe.
It looks like such a usual Istan day. The sun is shining, a salty breeze is floating by, people are going about their daily lives. But Loe's daily routine was altered hours ago when a dockhand turned up in her doorway. And now she's returning to the weyrleaders' ledges, a small box under her arm, steadied , perhaps unnecessarily, with her other hand. Her head is down, expression partially obscured by tendrils of hair that have fallen from the upswept coil of her clip, and her though her steps are a little hurried, this isn't her usual sure-strided pace.
Ch'son is not a man of great happiness as he makes his way toward the ledges that lead to both his and Nenita's weyrs. If Loe were anyone else, he probably wouldn't acknowledge her or notice her to begin with. But she is Loe so, "What're you doin'?" The question comes out a little demanding, a little indignant, the barest of accusation that probably isn't actually meant for /her/ but rather the whole situation.
The convergent paths of herself and someone else is enough to make Loe glance up, and the Weyrleader's question, sharp though it may be, doesn't erase the relief on her face when she sees Ch'son. There is relief there, but panic too, a certain frenzied wideness in her eyes and tension that has her shoulders held close. "Ch'son," she breathes out, and then a wary look toward the ledges to make sure there aren't unhappy eyes watching. Even if he doesn't seem like a very happy person at the moment, she moves closer, so she can explain in hushed, worried words. "It wasn't there. They'd already taken it." And yet, she has a box.
She might sound worried but her words set Ch'son ever so slightly more at ease. "What's that then?" he asks anyway, a nod of his head toward the box that she carries, not bothering to hide whatever little bit of confusion that he has. That's a brief glance toward his weyr, then toward Nenita's but he makes no move toward either at the moment.
Surely she hears him, but Loe just stares blankly at his chest for a moment, frozen for a beat before she bows her head to look at the box, to shift it under her arm, pull it closer. "She'll fire me," she tells him quietly. "I'll lose my job." And then her attention snaps back to Ch'son's face. "You found him, right? He didn't jump on a ship and take off or something, right?" Because that would cost her her job too. "I didn't know what to do, Ch'son. I came right to you and Nenita."
"She ain't gonna fire you," Ch'son tells the headwoman as though he actually believe that. It probably doesn't matter if it's true or not from his point of view. "I found him. Don't think he'll be goin' anywhere. Somethin' important about the Seven to 'im." The linger tension holding him tightly eases further until he can even roll his head over his shoulders and let out a sigh. "The marks're marked. They should lead us t' whoever they're goin' to, he says. Glad y' didn't find 'em."
Loe grimaces at the words that were probably meant to calm her. "You don't know that. She might. You heard her. She's..." There's another wary glance toward the Weyrwoman's ledge and during that time, he finally has some good news: Vaughan hasn't run off. She exhales. "I can't lose my job, Ch'son. I... can't." But talk of marked marks has her glancing down at the box again. "I was going to tell her I found them."
"She's pissed off. She wouldn't fire y' when you got me sick. Practically begged her to." Ch'son grins, though, saying well enough that he probably didn't /actually/ want Loe fired for getting him sick. Probably. He looks down at the box, thoughtful, then nods his head. "Alright. So give it t' her." Nenita would probably fire him is she knew how easily he was willing to keep her out of things but he doesn't seem to care about that so much.
Loe lifts a hand, a tiny tremor visible there before she presses the heel of it to her temple. "What if she finds out? What if it makes it worse?" That panic is in her eyes again, flicking over the ledges. "They're my marks," she tells Ch'son. "She could fire me for lying. She could fire me for failing." There's a hard swallow before she turns to the bronzerider again. "You think it's good that I didn't get the marks?" Maybe there's hope in that.
"Keep your marks, then. Y' can give her mine. And if she finds out, y' tell her that I ordered y' to." Ch'son doesn't leave a whole lot of room for argument here. He even reaches to take the box from her with a gesture of his head back toward his weyr. "If we can keep track a the others, we might be able t' figure who's been movin' 'em around." Or something. It wasn't /his/ idea and he's not exactly a criminal mastermind.
He wants the box. Loe blinks down at it and barely starts to hand it over, like her arm is too stiff to give it up readily. The tip of his head has her glancing toward his weyr and back to him like she doesn't understand what that gesture means. "Do you think you can track them? The real marks?"
"We'll switch 'em for mine. Y' can have yours back," Ch'son explains, not jerking it away but pulling steadily all the same. "Then y' can give this t' Nenita and everything'll be just fine, aye?" He makes it sound like a good plan in that reassuring voice of his, a far cry from the irritation that brought him back up to the ledge. "Dunno. Better than nothin', though."
Whether he's faking this whole reassurance or not, Loe seems to buy it, releasing the box into his possession. She nods a little, mostly to herself. And there's another detail she has to share with him. "Raveki will know they aren't hers. If Nenita returns them to her, Vek will know." But now it's his ledge that seems to make her nervous and she shifts her weight away from it. "Maybe you should just.. get the marks to me some other time. She doesn't want me to see you." With that Loe meets his eye, something mournful and meaningful in her gaze.
"So tell her t' keep her mouth shut," Ch'son tells Loe. "She oughta know how t' do that just fine." There's something biting in the way that he says that. "Tell her we kept the ones as evidence 'n reimbursed her." The bronzerider waves a hand. He doesn't really care how Loe handles it but there's plenty of ways to do so. "Who doesn't want you to see me?" Chaes isn't following that. It just makes him pause and turn to give Loe an agitated look.
This time Loe nods quickly, a moment of present intensity in her eyes as she sorts out the details of the marks and Raveki, temporary clarity that approves of the idea. That part of this whole insanity might just be settled. Sort of. "But what about you? Who reimburses you? You'd just going to be out those marks? Or do you mean... you'd pay her with the Weyr's money? No. No, just... just tell Nenita I didn't find the marks. Tell her you want it that way. She can't fire you. Maybe if you tell her that you want to track the marks, she won't be so upset with me. And if she finds out I was taking orders from you, she'll just toss me out. She doesn't want us..." And, well, he's looking agitated again and asking that question. Loe's brow furrows miserably. "Nenita. She gave me a look. She doesn't want us... talking." Well, maybe 'talking' isn't it exactly, but now she glances to the ledge and back to Ch'son again. Once more it seems like there's something she wants to say but cannot.
"Same 'who' that reimburses you," Ch'son tells her reflexively. Which is to say no one. It might say something that he's willing to be out of those marks for this. For Loe? Maybe that, too. But he stays where he is and continues watching Loe, eyes narrowing as though that helps him figure her out somehow. "Don't think Nenita gives a fuck about us. Ain't anythin' for her t' care about anyway, is there?" There's a clear undercurrent of something there. He definitely cares that that's nothing going on. "Fine, here. Take your marks 'n go home. I'll deal with her."
Depending on a person's point of view, their knowledge of Ch'son's connection to certain barmaids, his motivation for being out a substantial amount of marks might not be so clear. And Loe is about to ask after that, "Why would you-" when his other comments cut her off. Nothing for Nenita to care about? "You know that's not true," she says with a shake of her head.
Ch'son doesn't seem to feel the need to explain himself even though the question that gets cut off is clearly trying to ask him to. "Don't matter anyway, does it?" He's holding the box out to her and if she doesn't take it, he might just drop it altogether. "Good excuse for y' to stay away, though. That Nenita wouldn't like it." Like Loe made it up out of no where or something, even though he knows exactly what she's talking about. It's been a long day. For everyone. "I need a drink," he tells her with a certain finality.
It's with slow hands that she takes the box, and as she gets it tucked back under her arm, she checks the ledge again, just to make sure, before her free hand reaches for his chest. If he wore a damn shirt once in a while, she might wrap her fingers on that material now, but of course there's no shirt to hold onto and so her reach just ends in a curl of finger and the drop of her hand. "Ch'son, it's not an excuse. It's not what I want. You saw the way she was looking at me. The way she looked at us. Ch'son... my job." By the end, there's a hint of pleading in her voice. But she bows her head and takes it, takes his cutting remark and his brush-off. "Thank you," she says. "For talking to Nenita about the marks. For not mentioning the fight. Did anything happen with Vaughan?"
His eyes close when she touches his chest and Ch'son goes still, even the breath he was drawing in pausing before her hand drops and he lets it back out. It takes a moment longer to open his eyes and then he shakes his head with one brief motion. "Nothin' y' need t' know about, no. Found him. Talked t' him." Beat. "Don't wanna see him around the Seven, though." So in case she does see him, maybe she can remind the guy before Chaes finds out about it. He'll just ignore the rest of the stuff about them and her job now.
She sees that moment Ch'son closes his eyes and Loe lets out a miserable little sigh. The hand that reached for him wraps back to the box, hugging it to her side. He reports there's nothing she needs to know, and on any other day Loe might press and question, but today she just nods obediently. "He and Vek seem to know each other. She said she's trusts him." Just tidbits of information the headwoman is passing on. She searches his face for signs of injury, just in case there was some sort of rumble between him and the dockhand, given Ch'son's tendencies and the history between the two men. Eventually, though, she's just standing there looking at him.
That particular bit of information that she shares seems to catch Ch'son's attention more than maybe it should. "It's Vek, then? Vek is why the Seven is important t' him?" He's not really /asking/ Loe. She just happens to be there to hear him say it. Furrowed brows linger despite a certain click of knowledge. There aren't really any signs of anything that happened and he only looks at her for another moment before turning to head toward his weyr again.
Loe's weight shifts forward, enough for her to take a step, but as Ch'son moves off toward his weyr, there's nothing she can say, no reason she can think of to stop him. She just stands there, watching until he's out of sight, and then, after one last check toward Nenita's ledge, she turns back to the caverns.
It looks like such a usual Istan day. The sun is shining, a salty breeze is floating by, people are going about their daily lives. But Loe's daily routine was altered hours ago when a dockhand turned up in her doorway. And now she's returning to the weyrleaders' ledges, a small box under her arm, steadied , perhaps unnecessarily, with her other hand. Her head is down, expression partially obscured by tendrils of hair that have fallen from the upswept coil of her clip, and her though her steps are a little hurried, this isn't her usual sure-strided pace.
Ch'son is not a man of great happiness as he makes his way toward the ledges that lead to both his and Nenita's weyrs. If Loe were anyone else, he probably wouldn't acknowledge her or notice her to begin with. But she is Loe so, "What're you doin'?" The question comes out a little demanding, a little indignant, the barest of accusation that probably isn't actually meant for /her/ but rather the whole situation.
The convergent paths of herself and someone else is enough to make Loe glance up, and the Weyrleader's question, sharp though it may be, doesn't erase the relief on her face when she sees Ch'son. There is relief there, but panic too, a certain frenzied wideness in her eyes and tension that has her shoulders held close. "Ch'son," she breathes out, and then a wary look toward the ledges to make sure there aren't unhappy eyes watching. Even if he doesn't seem like a very happy person at the moment, she moves closer, so she can explain in hushed, worried words. "It wasn't there. They'd already taken it." And yet, she has a box.
She might sound worried but her words set Ch'son ever so slightly more at ease. "What's that then?" he asks anyway, a nod of his head toward the box that she carries, not bothering to hide whatever little bit of confusion that he has. That's a brief glance toward his weyr, then toward Nenita's but he makes no move toward either at the moment.
Surely she hears him, but Loe just stares blankly at his chest for a moment, frozen for a beat before she bows her head to look at the box, to shift it under her arm, pull it closer. "She'll fire me," she tells him quietly. "I'll lose my job." And then her attention snaps back to Ch'son's face. "You found him, right? He didn't jump on a ship and take off or something, right?" Because that would cost her her job too. "I didn't know what to do, Ch'son. I came right to you and Nenita."
"She ain't gonna fire you," Ch'son tells the headwoman as though he actually believe that. It probably doesn't matter if it's true or not from his point of view. "I found him. Don't think he'll be goin' anywhere. Somethin' important about the Seven to 'im." The linger tension holding him tightly eases further until he can even roll his head over his shoulders and let out a sigh. "The marks're marked. They should lead us t' whoever they're goin' to, he says. Glad y' didn't find 'em."
Loe grimaces at the words that were probably meant to calm her. "You don't know that. She might. You heard her. She's..." There's another wary glance toward the Weyrwoman's ledge and during that time, he finally has some good news: Vaughan hasn't run off. She exhales. "I can't lose my job, Ch'son. I... can't." But talk of marked marks has her glancing down at the box again. "I was going to tell her I found them."
"She's pissed off. She wouldn't fire y' when you got me sick. Practically begged her to." Ch'son grins, though, saying well enough that he probably didn't /actually/ want Loe fired for getting him sick. Probably. He looks down at the box, thoughtful, then nods his head. "Alright. So give it t' her." Nenita would probably fire him is she knew how easily he was willing to keep her out of things but he doesn't seem to care about that so much.
Loe lifts a hand, a tiny tremor visible there before she presses the heel of it to her temple. "What if she finds out? What if it makes it worse?" That panic is in her eyes again, flicking over the ledges. "They're my marks," she tells Ch'son. "She could fire me for lying. She could fire me for failing." There's a hard swallow before she turns to the bronzerider again. "You think it's good that I didn't get the marks?" Maybe there's hope in that.
"Keep your marks, then. Y' can give her mine. And if she finds out, y' tell her that I ordered y' to." Ch'son doesn't leave a whole lot of room for argument here. He even reaches to take the box from her with a gesture of his head back toward his weyr. "If we can keep track a the others, we might be able t' figure who's been movin' 'em around." Or something. It wasn't /his/ idea and he's not exactly a criminal mastermind.
He wants the box. Loe blinks down at it and barely starts to hand it over, like her arm is too stiff to give it up readily. The tip of his head has her glancing toward his weyr and back to him like she doesn't understand what that gesture means. "Do you think you can track them? The real marks?"
"We'll switch 'em for mine. Y' can have yours back," Ch'son explains, not jerking it away but pulling steadily all the same. "Then y' can give this t' Nenita and everything'll be just fine, aye?" He makes it sound like a good plan in that reassuring voice of his, a far cry from the irritation that brought him back up to the ledge. "Dunno. Better than nothin', though."
Whether he's faking this whole reassurance or not, Loe seems to buy it, releasing the box into his possession. She nods a little, mostly to herself. And there's another detail she has to share with him. "Raveki will know they aren't hers. If Nenita returns them to her, Vek will know." But now it's his ledge that seems to make her nervous and she shifts her weight away from it. "Maybe you should just.. get the marks to me some other time. She doesn't want me to see you." With that Loe meets his eye, something mournful and meaningful in her gaze.
"So tell her t' keep her mouth shut," Ch'son tells Loe. "She oughta know how t' do that just fine." There's something biting in the way that he says that. "Tell her we kept the ones as evidence 'n reimbursed her." The bronzerider waves a hand. He doesn't really care how Loe handles it but there's plenty of ways to do so. "Who doesn't want you to see me?" Chaes isn't following that. It just makes him pause and turn to give Loe an agitated look.
This time Loe nods quickly, a moment of present intensity in her eyes as she sorts out the details of the marks and Raveki, temporary clarity that approves of the idea. That part of this whole insanity might just be settled. Sort of. "But what about you? Who reimburses you? You'd just going to be out those marks? Or do you mean... you'd pay her with the Weyr's money? No. No, just... just tell Nenita I didn't find the marks. Tell her you want it that way. She can't fire you. Maybe if you tell her that you want to track the marks, she won't be so upset with me. And if she finds out I was taking orders from you, she'll just toss me out. She doesn't want us..." And, well, he's looking agitated again and asking that question. Loe's brow furrows miserably. "Nenita. She gave me a look. She doesn't want us... talking." Well, maybe 'talking' isn't it exactly, but now she glances to the ledge and back to Ch'son again. Once more it seems like there's something she wants to say but cannot.
"Same 'who' that reimburses you," Ch'son tells her reflexively. Which is to say no one. It might say something that he's willing to be out of those marks for this. For Loe? Maybe that, too. But he stays where he is and continues watching Loe, eyes narrowing as though that helps him figure her out somehow. "Don't think Nenita gives a fuck about us. Ain't anythin' for her t' care about anyway, is there?" There's a clear undercurrent of something there. He definitely cares that that's nothing going on. "Fine, here. Take your marks 'n go home. I'll deal with her."
Depending on a person's point of view, their knowledge of Ch'son's connection to certain barmaids, his motivation for being out a substantial amount of marks might not be so clear. And Loe is about to ask after that, "Why would you-" when his other comments cut her off. Nothing for Nenita to care about? "You know that's not true," she says with a shake of her head.
Ch'son doesn't seem to feel the need to explain himself even though the question that gets cut off is clearly trying to ask him to. "Don't matter anyway, does it?" He's holding the box out to her and if she doesn't take it, he might just drop it altogether. "Good excuse for y' to stay away, though. That Nenita wouldn't like it." Like Loe made it up out of no where or something, even though he knows exactly what she's talking about. It's been a long day. For everyone. "I need a drink," he tells her with a certain finality.
It's with slow hands that she takes the box, and as she gets it tucked back under her arm, she checks the ledge again, just to make sure, before her free hand reaches for his chest. If he wore a damn shirt once in a while, she might wrap her fingers on that material now, but of course there's no shirt to hold onto and so her reach just ends in a curl of finger and the drop of her hand. "Ch'son, it's not an excuse. It's not what I want. You saw the way she was looking at me. The way she looked at us. Ch'son... my job." By the end, there's a hint of pleading in her voice. But she bows her head and takes it, takes his cutting remark and his brush-off. "Thank you," she says. "For talking to Nenita about the marks. For not mentioning the fight. Did anything happen with Vaughan?"
His eyes close when she touches his chest and Ch'son goes still, even the breath he was drawing in pausing before her hand drops and he lets it back out. It takes a moment longer to open his eyes and then he shakes his head with one brief motion. "Nothin' y' need t' know about, no. Found him. Talked t' him." Beat. "Don't wanna see him around the Seven, though." So in case she does see him, maybe she can remind the guy before Chaes finds out about it. He'll just ignore the rest of the stuff about them and her job now.
She sees that moment Ch'son closes his eyes and Loe lets out a miserable little sigh. The hand that reached for him wraps back to the box, hugging it to her side. He reports there's nothing she needs to know, and on any other day Loe might press and question, but today she just nods obediently. "He and Vek seem to know each other. She said she's trusts him." Just tidbits of information the headwoman is passing on. She searches his face for signs of injury, just in case there was some sort of rumble between him and the dockhand, given Ch'son's tendencies and the history between the two men. Eventually, though, she's just standing there looking at him.
That particular bit of information that she shares seems to catch Ch'son's attention more than maybe it should. "It's Vek, then? Vek is why the Seven is important t' him?" He's not really /asking/ Loe. She just happens to be there to hear him say it. Furrowed brows linger despite a certain click of knowledge. There aren't really any signs of anything that happened and he only looks at her for another moment before turning to head toward his weyr again.
Loe's weight shifts forward, enough for her to take a step, but as Ch'son moves off toward his weyr, there's nothing she can say, no reason she can think of to stop him. She just stands there, watching until he's out of sight, and then, after one last check toward Nenita's ledge, she turns back to the caverns.