Hot.
Chaes stops by 'Bolgur' Waystation after sweeps to check out a tavern and meets Vyshani.
Early afternoon but you couldn't tell from the quality of light outside. Autumn in Boll, especially on the northern end, is wetwetwet. Dull gray clouds hang low in the sky, fat and full of moisture that they drizzle down upon the verdant land below. But soggy as it is outside, once past the doors and into the main 'tavern' room of the locally-dubbed Bolgur Waystation, there is warmth and light and best of all, it's /dry/. Though... somewhat lacking in patrons. Autumn is not the best time to travel in, and with the times being what they are lately, travelers are even fewer. At least, the sorts of travelers that would be stopping in here. It is at this time of day, mostly locals in from the surrounding cotholds, though there are two or three with the look of the road-weary about them. The 'bouncers' are easily picked out if one is looking: one at a corner table where he's got a good view of the entire room, shuffling a deck of cards idly while he makes smalltalk with one of the locals, and one at the bar, leaning an elbow casually along it with fingers curled around a drink that's undoubtedly non-alcoholic and trading quips with the girls on staff and the bartender. "Kyrsti!" one of those girls is exclaiming, though cheefully, "You've got two hours left on your shift. I know it's slow, but get out of Yansen's lap and help me with these tankards." The woman so 'chastised' makes a pouty face but gets to her feet with a perky enough, "Yes'm." even though the woman addressing her is noticably younger. With black hair pulled up in a sloppy runnertail, tendrils hanging around her face, Vyshani smiles brightly at the elder woman and hands her three foaming tankards once she's near. "Jors and his crew," the girl notes, nodding to a trio of men at a table who appear to be engaged in a dice game.
Wet as it is and would like to be outside, Ch'son is all too happy to make his way into the tavern. He's in his on-duty riding leathers, knot on one shoulder that marks him as an Istan bronzerider and an appropriately matching firelizard perched heavily on the other with his tail wrapped around the man's neck as a sort of support. Ch'son takes a moment to look around, blue eyes lingering a little in the farther corners of the building before they focus on the things more directly around him. Like the bar that he's approaching now. There's an easy smile for the girl behind it there and he takes a seat, waiting while the 'lizard starts down one arm without quite unhooking his tail from that neck.
It's the bouncer giving the bronzerider a good once-over, thought (perhaps) fortunately for his sake it's his potential as a threat and not his pretty face that's being assessed. Not that trouble is expected, per se, but the burly man wouldn't be worth the marks he gets paid if he didn't take his job seriously. There must be a raised floor behind that bar, for from the patron-side it's much too tall for Vyshani to be able to lean her elbows easily upon the top. A quick look: face, shoulder, leathers, other shoulder, "He stays on you or on one of the perches." With a hand waved towards the upper regions of the nearest wall. "He makes a nuisance of himself, it's outside for him. House rules." And there's a big bright smile, just saying, no offense. "Our greetings t'Ista, rider. What can I getcha? Drink or food, or both, and what we got's good." A little bit more pride in that than one might expect from just your average barmaid.
Not intending on being much of a threat, at least, Ch'son doesn't give much attention to other men giving him once overs if he even notices it at all. It doesn't seem like he does. The firelizard watches the girl as she talks and if the dainty bronze could pout, he certainly would be right now. He offers a reassuring sort of chirp, though, and glances back as the rider says, "He's already made a nuisance of himself followin' me here. You'd think he'd rather sleep somewhere 'stead a bein' nosy 'bout sweeps. But he'll be good're I'll toss him out m'self. Promise." There's that easy smile again and he glances down along the bar before saying, "Thanks, darlin'. How 'bout an ale? You got any favorites, far as food?"
Not intending on being much of a threat, at least, Ch'son doesn't give much attention to other men giving him once overs if he even notices it at all. It doesn't seem like he does. The firelizard watches the girl as she talks and if the dainty bronze could pout, he certainly would be right now. He offers a reassuring sort of chirp, though, and glances back as the rider says, "He's already made a nuisance of himself followin' me here. You'd think he'd rather sleep somewhere 'stead a bein' nosy 'bout sweeps. But he'll be good're I'll toss him out m'self. Promise." There's that easy smile again and he glances down along the bar before saying, "Thanks, darlin'. How 'bout an ale? You got any favorites, far as food?"
"Aww, sugar, I don't make the rules, Mama does," Vyshani says as if that chirp were an actual word. "One too many flits got up in her kitchen, makin' a mess," the girl continues to explain to the rider, easy as you please. "You fancy light ale or dark, handsome? And really, isn't a 'lizard that likes you more use than one that's always off somewhere else?" She pulls out a clean tankard, waits for him to indicate his preference before she'll pull the pint and slide it down the bar towards him with a practiced motion of her wrist. "That depends. You like spicy, bronzer?"
The lizard seems to think that's an acceptable enough answer. Or maybe it's just the tone that the girl uses to talk to him. "Ain't so much a matter a likin' as it is bein' smart enough t'be useful." Presumably Ch'son is implying that the bronze doesn't fit that particular description. Of course, he could be biased. "Dark'll do, though," he says, taking a moment to push the lizard back up his shoulder before he's reaching for the tankard. "Like just 'bout anything, gorgeous. Spicy's pretty standard out Ista way."
Canting her head to the side, Vyshani absently tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear as she blinks at Ch'son. "I thought it was just trainin' 'em proper, 'specially the bronzes and golds. Supposed to be brighter'n the rest, aren't they?" Which might not say much for the /bronzerider's/ smarts, actually, but she doesn't seem to realise that implication. True to her boast, the beer served here is good stuff, though not outrageously high end. This is a prosperous Waystation, as such things go, and they can afford the better end of 'average.' Turning her back, she patters to the far end of the bar to a half-door, leaning over it to call, "Hey Mama, you got some of your batter-fried wherry strips goin'? Got an order out here." Mmm, greasy barfood.
Ch'son gives the girl a look like he's not entirely sure just what she's getting at there but then maybe it clicks because his expression flickers toward disapproving. "It ain't my fault he's stupid." But it's not something that he seems intent on following up on too much. Making himself look stupid isn't really something guys in general like to be doing a whole lot of. He does seem impressed by the beer, at least, probably not something he was expecting, and there's a small grin as he watches the girl move off to relay his order. "So you're the kid, huh? You even get paid t'work in here?"
Blink. "Wasn't sayin' it was." No, Vyshani /really/ didn't twig to what her question sounded like, and meant it as genuine. But if he's content to leave it at that, so is she after that kinda-sorta apology/explanation is given. 'The kid' is distracted for a couple minutes when Kyrsti brings back some empty mugs to be refilled and call another order for some munchies through to the kitchen. "Vyshani," she replies, not at all put out by the wording he's used. "Name's Vyshani, and yup, this's my folks' 'Station." There's that pride again, and if she had a chest worth mentioning it might be more interesting to watch her straighten her spine like that. Grabbing up a cloth for the obligatory wiping out of already-clean mugs so that she can't be accused of just chatting up the new guy, "Well 'course I do. Papa could just call it an allowance, I guess, but I work as hard as any of our girls and earn my marks." "S'true, too," pipes in the bouncer uninvited. "Don't get her started on a tear about treatin' folk fair, rider."
"Vyshani," Ch'son repeats the name in that 'putting it to memory' sort of way. Or just making sure she knows he heard her. The bronzerider glances over to the bouncer when he speaks up and there's a soft chuckle from him as he lifts up his tankard acknowledgingly. "Do my best." His attention goes back to the young woman and though he's being very good about the whole keeping his eyes above the neck thing, he does consider her for a handful of moments. "I'm Chaes. Ch'son, bronze Taineth's. And this," he pokes a thumb toward the firelizard that chirps a reminder of his existence, "is Fetch."
Wipe, wipe, wipe. Replace. New mug. Repeat. "Oh, shush, Holber," Vyshani says to the bouncer, a pretty pink tinge staining her cheeks as he gives away her likelihood to rant on that particular topic. "Well met, Ch'son and Fetch," and her smile might be a touch warmer for the firelizard than the man. Another tendril of hair gets puffed out of her face, "You mentioned bein' on sweeps. You done, or just nippin' in before headin' out again?" No sooner has the last syllable left her mouth than a call from the kitchen sends her swinging around to trot over to the door. The nice thing about batter-fried anything, it cooks quick. Plate in hand she returns to the bar and plops it down in front of the bronzerider, the golden-battered strips speckled through with the spices used in the batter.
"Uh," is the only thing that Ch'son actually manages to get out before she's off to get his food and he's leaning a bit to watch her go, eyes not quite so well-placed with her back turned. They come back up when she's turning toward him again and once there's food set in front of him, he's shrugging his shoulder for the lizard to go find somewhere more appropriate to sit. Somewhere that he won't feel so pressured to share at any rate. Fetch, however, doesn't move until Chaes has pulled out a bit of meet from the batter and handed it over. /Then/ he takes off to settle down and enjoy it elsewhere. Ch'son is left rolling his eyes and taking a bite of the rest of the strip he ripped off. It takes a moment for him to decide, then, "Oh, that's good." A pause to take a drink, "I'm done. Just heard 'bout this place somewhere n' thought I'd check it out."
Vyshani hasn't got much more curves to look at from behind than she has from the front, but that doesn't stop it from being obvious that while she might be slight, she is definitely a woman grown. Even subtle hips can move in appealing ways. Though she isn't making an effort at putting on any sort of show. Back to facing him and she grins as she watches Fetch persistently angling for his share. "Like flyin' stomachs they seem to be, huh?" And of course she's waiting for his verdict on her Mama's cooking, and she just /beams/ at him. "Mama's the best cook 'round here; coulda been a Baker, we all tell her. But she married Papa instead. We're always glad for new custom, and we don't see riders too often. Mostly folk from up at Fort, when they do drop in. Sailors and wagoneers, mostly." The latest mug is set down, a new one picked up. "How long you been a rider, anyhow?"
That? Won't keep Ch'son from looking in and of itself. If it's female, it's at risk to the bronzerider's roaming eyes. But now he's rather intent on his food so she's safe. "Annoyin' stomachs, they are. Might have to come back, though," he admits, tone suggesting that maybe he might not have otherwise. It's not quite so dive-y as he tends toward, after all. "Oh, ain't been long, really. Impressed with the last clutch outta Lieryth. Turn 'n a half now, 'spose it's been. You married?" the last is likely an afterthought for her previous comment about her mother.
"Repeat custom's the best kind," Vyshani notes quite cheerfully. "And we aren't usually this quiet, even this time of year. Always had lotsa folk comin' through here, goin' both ways, until those raiders turned up." Full lips settle into a moue, her surface cheer sobering momentarily until she puffs out a sigh. "Always lots goin' on, interestin' people to talk to. Safe place for gaming too. Holber and Tolsen over there keep troublemakers in line." Trying to sell the place for those further visits, perhaps. Or she could really be this chatty. "What'd you do before you were a rider?" her curiosity continues. Followed by bright laughter, her head tipped back as the sound lifts towards the ceiling. "Married? Me?! Oh Faranth no, not me."
"Give it another go, for sure," Chaes says, trying not to show off the food in his mouth. He's had a few manners smacked into his head at some point, at least. "'Specially if there's games." Back to silent eating for a few in which he finishes off his ale and gestures for, 'maybe another please?' "I was a sailor mosta my life. Then I started workin' the docks at Ista 'fore they Searched me." The last makes him grin and he fixes her with a more appraising look, "No? Ain't that what y'all do? Get married. Have kids."
Another she can do, and Vyshani promptly abandons the clean tankard she was wiping to replace it with his used one as she turns to refill it. "Dice, cards, sometimes when a Harper comes through we get other games of wit and skill going. You got a preference for one sort over another, or will anything do ya?" No seeming judgment cast if he does like his games, but then, even a nice bar is still a bar. Her next question might really be bordering on true nosiness, "What made you give up the sea?" Pause. "I mean... well obviously your... Taineth, was it? But well, what made you decide to take the chance? Weren't you happy?" A line of foam trails slowly down the outer edge of the mug as she sets it back down in front of the rider, and she laughs again. "Well sure, I guess. I mean, I'll probably get married eventually, but..." she shrugs, looking around the room. "What's the point if you aren't in love?" Holber snorts, and pipes in again, this apparently more interesting than his off-and-on flirtation with Kyrsti, "She's in love with this 'Station. Think a man's gonna compare t'that?" "Holber! Aren't there some runners outside that need tending, or something?" Vy asks pointedly, cheeks pinkening again. Bosses daughter, and the bouncer obediently goes to check, though chuckling as he goes.
"Cards is a weakness," Ch'son remarks but it doesn't seem as though it's that he's bad at it, just that he has a hard time saying no to them. "Dice're good, too." He's working on finishing off another strip as he considers her next probing into his personal life. "Cards, actually, 'spose. We was playin' at Ista and I, uh, won a bit too much." He's not saying he was cheating. "One a my 'mates took offense. 'Bout broke my nose and left me layin' on the beach when they took off the next mornin'. Never made a point a lookin' for 'em since. But I got a job at the Weyr and..." Well, the rest is history, right?" He laughs at Holber's comment about Vyshani's love but he doesn't speak up to save the man from having to go out and check on the runners. "You don't never wanna travel? See the rest of Pern? S'what I like best 'bout bein' a rider."
"People do seem to object to a lucky streak," Vyshani says with a perfectly straight face. Sweet she may be. Innocent is unlikely. "S'why we got our boys." Boys, she says, and both of them at minimum ten turns her senior. With another glance around the room -- Tolsen and his Holder-friend chattin' up a storm, Kyrsti back in Yansen's lap, other patrons either content with what they've got or a couple making to leave -- she sets aside her cloth and leans her elbow on the bartop. Enough busywork, and neither parent visible to scold for its lack. "Why would I need to travel? People that come through here, they bring Pern to me. There's always someone willin' to tell a story an' describe where they've been. I see it all, right here," and she taps her temple with one finger. She almost sounds convincing too, if it weren't for that slightly distant look in her eyes as she focuses on a point beyond Ch'son's shoulder. "Was it hard to get used to?" she asks abruptly, swinging back talking about him instead of her. Hooking her thumbs together, she flaps her hands up and down. "Flying instead of sailing."
"Shells, girl," is his first reaction to that particular commentary from Vyshani. Ch'son shakes his head and says, "Been travelin' since I can remember. I can't even imagine havin' t'settle in one place and hear it through other people. It ain't like seein' it for yourself." He takes another bite, watching her where she's leaning on the bartop now. "Weren't easy. Lot," he lifts a hand up to mime some height, "higher. Didn't much care for that but s'better now." He stuffs the rest of the strip, the last, into his mouth and washes it down with a drink before saying anything else. "Was harder to get dropped into my own weyr. Couldn't sleep for a long time without someone there with me." She can take from that whatever she will.
Vyshani lifts her shoulders in a small shrug, absently toying with a tendril of hair, which conveniently allows her hand to partially conceal her face as she ducks her head. With the local slur firmly entrenched in her accent, "Bolgur's been my home my whole life, was born in a room right upstairs." And, a trifle defensively, "And I have done /some/ traveling. We go down to Southern Boll Hold for the summer Gather, and up to Gar sometimes for the Trader Faire." Which is no where near as exciting as say, hopping up to see Benden's vineyards or across to Nerat's swamps. But at least her world is a little bigger than just this swanky -- as these things go -- Waystation! "Oh gosh, I can't imagine what that'd be like. Sharing quarters? Like, all the time?" Which might mean that temporary is okay? "Didn't Taineth count as someone else? I mean, don't you riders like, live with your dragons?"
"Guess a home's nice, least ways. Never really had one a them 'fore Ista." Ch'son takes another drink then glances over his shoulder to where the firelizard has settled himself and gestures for him to come back. Fetch thinks about it for a few moments while Chaes turns back to the bar. "Always shared quarters one way or 'nother. Dragons ain't really quite the same as people. They make different noises. But I gotten used t'them by now. Anyway, they got their ledge 'n all that. Ain't as comfortable out there as bed. I'll have t'show you sometime." The Weyr, presumably, not his bed. Maybe. Fetch finally makes it back, landing heavily on the bronzerider's leather-protected shoulder after he's risen to his feet. He puts out marks for the food and ale and plenty for a tip for his hostess. "I should probably get started on m'way back. But thanks for the food, drink 'n company." He offers her a quick wink along with those words.
Just like marriage without love, "What's the point of seein' the world if you haven't got a place you belong?" Vyshani studies the rider, marks the way he moves and pushes up out of her lean. She should at least be able to read people well enough now to know when someone's getting ready to take their leave. Though the interest in her expression remains as she listens. Interest, and then she's laughing again, peeking at him from beneath lowered lashes, "Y'aren't the first rider to offer to show me his Weyr." Or weyr. Or bed. But rather than coy, she just looks like she's giving him a humourous tease. Friendly-like, but not... /friendly/. As such. "You're quite welcome, Ch'son, and I'm glad ya enjoyed it." With the way she lifts the plate, she might be talking about her Mama's cooking. But maybe not. "Hope t'see you again real soon." With another of those bright smiles and a wave with her free hand, "You too, Fetch!" And then she's bustling about to take the dirty dishes back to be washed, and Chaes might get to share a look with Holber in passing as the bouncer finally makes his way back inside from 'checking on runners.' He's even got a bit of hay stuck in his hair. Fancy that.
"Oh, you will. Have a good one, darlin'." Ch'son is talking as he turns to start out of the bar and off toward wherever Taineth has parked himself away from freaking out the livestock too much, grinning to Holber on his way past. He'll definitely be back.
Autumn afternoon, day 25, month 11, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Early afternoon but you couldn't tell from the quality of light outside. Autumn in Boll, especially on the northern end, is wetwetwet. Dull gray clouds hang low in the sky, fat and full of moisture that they drizzle down upon the verdant land below. But soggy as it is outside, once past the doors and into the main 'tavern' room of the locally-dubbed Bolgur Waystation, there is warmth and light and best of all, it's /dry/. Though... somewhat lacking in patrons. Autumn is not the best time to travel in, and with the times being what they are lately, travelers are even fewer. At least, the sorts of travelers that would be stopping in here. It is at this time of day, mostly locals in from the surrounding cotholds, though there are two or three with the look of the road-weary about them. The 'bouncers' are easily picked out if one is looking: one at a corner table where he's got a good view of the entire room, shuffling a deck of cards idly while he makes smalltalk with one of the locals, and one at the bar, leaning an elbow casually along it with fingers curled around a drink that's undoubtedly non-alcoholic and trading quips with the girls on staff and the bartender. "Kyrsti!" one of those girls is exclaiming, though cheefully, "You've got two hours left on your shift. I know it's slow, but get out of Yansen's lap and help me with these tankards." The woman so 'chastised' makes a pouty face but gets to her feet with a perky enough, "Yes'm." even though the woman addressing her is noticably younger. With black hair pulled up in a sloppy runnertail, tendrils hanging around her face, Vyshani smiles brightly at the elder woman and hands her three foaming tankards once she's near. "Jors and his crew," the girl notes, nodding to a trio of men at a table who appear to be engaged in a dice game.
Wet as it is and would like to be outside, Ch'son is all too happy to make his way into the tavern. He's in his on-duty riding leathers, knot on one shoulder that marks him as an Istan bronzerider and an appropriately matching firelizard perched heavily on the other with his tail wrapped around the man's neck as a sort of support. Ch'son takes a moment to look around, blue eyes lingering a little in the farther corners of the building before they focus on the things more directly around him. Like the bar that he's approaching now. There's an easy smile for the girl behind it there and he takes a seat, waiting while the 'lizard starts down one arm without quite unhooking his tail from that neck.
It's the bouncer giving the bronzerider a good once-over, thought (perhaps) fortunately for his sake it's his potential as a threat and not his pretty face that's being assessed. Not that trouble is expected, per se, but the burly man wouldn't be worth the marks he gets paid if he didn't take his job seriously. There must be a raised floor behind that bar, for from the patron-side it's much too tall for Vyshani to be able to lean her elbows easily upon the top. A quick look: face, shoulder, leathers, other shoulder, "He stays on you or on one of the perches." With a hand waved towards the upper regions of the nearest wall. "He makes a nuisance of himself, it's outside for him. House rules." And there's a big bright smile, just saying, no offense. "Our greetings t'Ista, rider. What can I getcha? Drink or food, or both, and what we got's good." A little bit more pride in that than one might expect from just your average barmaid.
Not intending on being much of a threat, at least, Ch'son doesn't give much attention to other men giving him once overs if he even notices it at all. It doesn't seem like he does. The firelizard watches the girl as she talks and if the dainty bronze could pout, he certainly would be right now. He offers a reassuring sort of chirp, though, and glances back as the rider says, "He's already made a nuisance of himself followin' me here. You'd think he'd rather sleep somewhere 'stead a bein' nosy 'bout sweeps. But he'll be good're I'll toss him out m'self. Promise." There's that easy smile again and he glances down along the bar before saying, "Thanks, darlin'. How 'bout an ale? You got any favorites, far as food?"
Not intending on being much of a threat, at least, Ch'son doesn't give much attention to other men giving him once overs if he even notices it at all. It doesn't seem like he does. The firelizard watches the girl as she talks and if the dainty bronze could pout, he certainly would be right now. He offers a reassuring sort of chirp, though, and glances back as the rider says, "He's already made a nuisance of himself followin' me here. You'd think he'd rather sleep somewhere 'stead a bein' nosy 'bout sweeps. But he'll be good're I'll toss him out m'self. Promise." There's that easy smile again and he glances down along the bar before saying, "Thanks, darlin'. How 'bout an ale? You got any favorites, far as food?"
"Aww, sugar, I don't make the rules, Mama does," Vyshani says as if that chirp were an actual word. "One too many flits got up in her kitchen, makin' a mess," the girl continues to explain to the rider, easy as you please. "You fancy light ale or dark, handsome? And really, isn't a 'lizard that likes you more use than one that's always off somewhere else?" She pulls out a clean tankard, waits for him to indicate his preference before she'll pull the pint and slide it down the bar towards him with a practiced motion of her wrist. "That depends. You like spicy, bronzer?"
The lizard seems to think that's an acceptable enough answer. Or maybe it's just the tone that the girl uses to talk to him. "Ain't so much a matter a likin' as it is bein' smart enough t'be useful." Presumably Ch'son is implying that the bronze doesn't fit that particular description. Of course, he could be biased. "Dark'll do, though," he says, taking a moment to push the lizard back up his shoulder before he's reaching for the tankard. "Like just 'bout anything, gorgeous. Spicy's pretty standard out Ista way."
Canting her head to the side, Vyshani absently tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear as she blinks at Ch'son. "I thought it was just trainin' 'em proper, 'specially the bronzes and golds. Supposed to be brighter'n the rest, aren't they?" Which might not say much for the /bronzerider's/ smarts, actually, but she doesn't seem to realise that implication. True to her boast, the beer served here is good stuff, though not outrageously high end. This is a prosperous Waystation, as such things go, and they can afford the better end of 'average.' Turning her back, she patters to the far end of the bar to a half-door, leaning over it to call, "Hey Mama, you got some of your batter-fried wherry strips goin'? Got an order out here." Mmm, greasy barfood.
Ch'son gives the girl a look like he's not entirely sure just what she's getting at there but then maybe it clicks because his expression flickers toward disapproving. "It ain't my fault he's stupid." But it's not something that he seems intent on following up on too much. Making himself look stupid isn't really something guys in general like to be doing a whole lot of. He does seem impressed by the beer, at least, probably not something he was expecting, and there's a small grin as he watches the girl move off to relay his order. "So you're the kid, huh? You even get paid t'work in here?"
Blink. "Wasn't sayin' it was." No, Vyshani /really/ didn't twig to what her question sounded like, and meant it as genuine. But if he's content to leave it at that, so is she after that kinda-sorta apology/explanation is given. 'The kid' is distracted for a couple minutes when Kyrsti brings back some empty mugs to be refilled and call another order for some munchies through to the kitchen. "Vyshani," she replies, not at all put out by the wording he's used. "Name's Vyshani, and yup, this's my folks' 'Station." There's that pride again, and if she had a chest worth mentioning it might be more interesting to watch her straighten her spine like that. Grabbing up a cloth for the obligatory wiping out of already-clean mugs so that she can't be accused of just chatting up the new guy, "Well 'course I do. Papa could just call it an allowance, I guess, but I work as hard as any of our girls and earn my marks." "S'true, too," pipes in the bouncer uninvited. "Don't get her started on a tear about treatin' folk fair, rider."
"Vyshani," Ch'son repeats the name in that 'putting it to memory' sort of way. Or just making sure she knows he heard her. The bronzerider glances over to the bouncer when he speaks up and there's a soft chuckle from him as he lifts up his tankard acknowledgingly. "Do my best." His attention goes back to the young woman and though he's being very good about the whole keeping his eyes above the neck thing, he does consider her for a handful of moments. "I'm Chaes. Ch'son, bronze Taineth's. And this," he pokes a thumb toward the firelizard that chirps a reminder of his existence, "is Fetch."
Wipe, wipe, wipe. Replace. New mug. Repeat. "Oh, shush, Holber," Vyshani says to the bouncer, a pretty pink tinge staining her cheeks as he gives away her likelihood to rant on that particular topic. "Well met, Ch'son and Fetch," and her smile might be a touch warmer for the firelizard than the man. Another tendril of hair gets puffed out of her face, "You mentioned bein' on sweeps. You done, or just nippin' in before headin' out again?" No sooner has the last syllable left her mouth than a call from the kitchen sends her swinging around to trot over to the door. The nice thing about batter-fried anything, it cooks quick. Plate in hand she returns to the bar and plops it down in front of the bronzerider, the golden-battered strips speckled through with the spices used in the batter.
"Uh," is the only thing that Ch'son actually manages to get out before she's off to get his food and he's leaning a bit to watch her go, eyes not quite so well-placed with her back turned. They come back up when she's turning toward him again and once there's food set in front of him, he's shrugging his shoulder for the lizard to go find somewhere more appropriate to sit. Somewhere that he won't feel so pressured to share at any rate. Fetch, however, doesn't move until Chaes has pulled out a bit of meet from the batter and handed it over. /Then/ he takes off to settle down and enjoy it elsewhere. Ch'son is left rolling his eyes and taking a bite of the rest of the strip he ripped off. It takes a moment for him to decide, then, "Oh, that's good." A pause to take a drink, "I'm done. Just heard 'bout this place somewhere n' thought I'd check it out."
Vyshani hasn't got much more curves to look at from behind than she has from the front, but that doesn't stop it from being obvious that while she might be slight, she is definitely a woman grown. Even subtle hips can move in appealing ways. Though she isn't making an effort at putting on any sort of show. Back to facing him and she grins as she watches Fetch persistently angling for his share. "Like flyin' stomachs they seem to be, huh?" And of course she's waiting for his verdict on her Mama's cooking, and she just /beams/ at him. "Mama's the best cook 'round here; coulda been a Baker, we all tell her. But she married Papa instead. We're always glad for new custom, and we don't see riders too often. Mostly folk from up at Fort, when they do drop in. Sailors and wagoneers, mostly." The latest mug is set down, a new one picked up. "How long you been a rider, anyhow?"
That? Won't keep Ch'son from looking in and of itself. If it's female, it's at risk to the bronzerider's roaming eyes. But now he's rather intent on his food so she's safe. "Annoyin' stomachs, they are. Might have to come back, though," he admits, tone suggesting that maybe he might not have otherwise. It's not quite so dive-y as he tends toward, after all. "Oh, ain't been long, really. Impressed with the last clutch outta Lieryth. Turn 'n a half now, 'spose it's been. You married?" the last is likely an afterthought for her previous comment about her mother.
"Repeat custom's the best kind," Vyshani notes quite cheerfully. "And we aren't usually this quiet, even this time of year. Always had lotsa folk comin' through here, goin' both ways, until those raiders turned up." Full lips settle into a moue, her surface cheer sobering momentarily until she puffs out a sigh. "Always lots goin' on, interestin' people to talk to. Safe place for gaming too. Holber and Tolsen over there keep troublemakers in line." Trying to sell the place for those further visits, perhaps. Or she could really be this chatty. "What'd you do before you were a rider?" her curiosity continues. Followed by bright laughter, her head tipped back as the sound lifts towards the ceiling. "Married? Me?! Oh Faranth no, not me."
"Give it another go, for sure," Chaes says, trying not to show off the food in his mouth. He's had a few manners smacked into his head at some point, at least. "'Specially if there's games." Back to silent eating for a few in which he finishes off his ale and gestures for, 'maybe another please?' "I was a sailor mosta my life. Then I started workin' the docks at Ista 'fore they Searched me." The last makes him grin and he fixes her with a more appraising look, "No? Ain't that what y'all do? Get married. Have kids."
Another she can do, and Vyshani promptly abandons the clean tankard she was wiping to replace it with his used one as she turns to refill it. "Dice, cards, sometimes when a Harper comes through we get other games of wit and skill going. You got a preference for one sort over another, or will anything do ya?" No seeming judgment cast if he does like his games, but then, even a nice bar is still a bar. Her next question might really be bordering on true nosiness, "What made you give up the sea?" Pause. "I mean... well obviously your... Taineth, was it? But well, what made you decide to take the chance? Weren't you happy?" A line of foam trails slowly down the outer edge of the mug as she sets it back down in front of the rider, and she laughs again. "Well sure, I guess. I mean, I'll probably get married eventually, but..." she shrugs, looking around the room. "What's the point if you aren't in love?" Holber snorts, and pipes in again, this apparently more interesting than his off-and-on flirtation with Kyrsti, "She's in love with this 'Station. Think a man's gonna compare t'that?" "Holber! Aren't there some runners outside that need tending, or something?" Vy asks pointedly, cheeks pinkening again. Bosses daughter, and the bouncer obediently goes to check, though chuckling as he goes.
"Cards is a weakness," Ch'son remarks but it doesn't seem as though it's that he's bad at it, just that he has a hard time saying no to them. "Dice're good, too." He's working on finishing off another strip as he considers her next probing into his personal life. "Cards, actually, 'spose. We was playin' at Ista and I, uh, won a bit too much." He's not saying he was cheating. "One a my 'mates took offense. 'Bout broke my nose and left me layin' on the beach when they took off the next mornin'. Never made a point a lookin' for 'em since. But I got a job at the Weyr and..." Well, the rest is history, right?" He laughs at Holber's comment about Vyshani's love but he doesn't speak up to save the man from having to go out and check on the runners. "You don't never wanna travel? See the rest of Pern? S'what I like best 'bout bein' a rider."
"People do seem to object to a lucky streak," Vyshani says with a perfectly straight face. Sweet she may be. Innocent is unlikely. "S'why we got our boys." Boys, she says, and both of them at minimum ten turns her senior. With another glance around the room -- Tolsen and his Holder-friend chattin' up a storm, Kyrsti back in Yansen's lap, other patrons either content with what they've got or a couple making to leave -- she sets aside her cloth and leans her elbow on the bartop. Enough busywork, and neither parent visible to scold for its lack. "Why would I need to travel? People that come through here, they bring Pern to me. There's always someone willin' to tell a story an' describe where they've been. I see it all, right here," and she taps her temple with one finger. She almost sounds convincing too, if it weren't for that slightly distant look in her eyes as she focuses on a point beyond Ch'son's shoulder. "Was it hard to get used to?" she asks abruptly, swinging back talking about him instead of her. Hooking her thumbs together, she flaps her hands up and down. "Flying instead of sailing."
"Shells, girl," is his first reaction to that particular commentary from Vyshani. Ch'son shakes his head and says, "Been travelin' since I can remember. I can't even imagine havin' t'settle in one place and hear it through other people. It ain't like seein' it for yourself." He takes another bite, watching her where she's leaning on the bartop now. "Weren't easy. Lot," he lifts a hand up to mime some height, "higher. Didn't much care for that but s'better now." He stuffs the rest of the strip, the last, into his mouth and washes it down with a drink before saying anything else. "Was harder to get dropped into my own weyr. Couldn't sleep for a long time without someone there with me." She can take from that whatever she will.
Vyshani lifts her shoulders in a small shrug, absently toying with a tendril of hair, which conveniently allows her hand to partially conceal her face as she ducks her head. With the local slur firmly entrenched in her accent, "Bolgur's been my home my whole life, was born in a room right upstairs." And, a trifle defensively, "And I have done /some/ traveling. We go down to Southern Boll Hold for the summer Gather, and up to Gar sometimes for the Trader Faire." Which is no where near as exciting as say, hopping up to see Benden's vineyards or across to Nerat's swamps. But at least her world is a little bigger than just this swanky -- as these things go -- Waystation! "Oh gosh, I can't imagine what that'd be like. Sharing quarters? Like, all the time?" Which might mean that temporary is okay? "Didn't Taineth count as someone else? I mean, don't you riders like, live with your dragons?"
"Guess a home's nice, least ways. Never really had one a them 'fore Ista." Ch'son takes another drink then glances over his shoulder to where the firelizard has settled himself and gestures for him to come back. Fetch thinks about it for a few moments while Chaes turns back to the bar. "Always shared quarters one way or 'nother. Dragons ain't really quite the same as people. They make different noises. But I gotten used t'them by now. Anyway, they got their ledge 'n all that. Ain't as comfortable out there as bed. I'll have t'show you sometime." The Weyr, presumably, not his bed. Maybe. Fetch finally makes it back, landing heavily on the bronzerider's leather-protected shoulder after he's risen to his feet. He puts out marks for the food and ale and plenty for a tip for his hostess. "I should probably get started on m'way back. But thanks for the food, drink 'n company." He offers her a quick wink along with those words.
Just like marriage without love, "What's the point of seein' the world if you haven't got a place you belong?" Vyshani studies the rider, marks the way he moves and pushes up out of her lean. She should at least be able to read people well enough now to know when someone's getting ready to take their leave. Though the interest in her expression remains as she listens. Interest, and then she's laughing again, peeking at him from beneath lowered lashes, "Y'aren't the first rider to offer to show me his Weyr." Or weyr. Or bed. But rather than coy, she just looks like she's giving him a humourous tease. Friendly-like, but not... /friendly/. As such. "You're quite welcome, Ch'son, and I'm glad ya enjoyed it." With the way she lifts the plate, she might be talking about her Mama's cooking. But maybe not. "Hope t'see you again real soon." With another of those bright smiles and a wave with her free hand, "You too, Fetch!" And then she's bustling about to take the dirty dishes back to be washed, and Chaes might get to share a look with Holber in passing as the bouncer finally makes his way back inside from 'checking on runners.' He's even got a bit of hay stuck in his hair. Fancy that.
"Oh, you will. Have a good one, darlin'." Ch'son is talking as he turns to start out of the bar and off toward wherever Taineth has parked himself away from freaking out the livestock too much, grinning to Holber on his way past. He'll definitely be back.
Autumn afternoon, day 25, month 11, turn 21 of Interval 10.