Log: Wet

[halsten]

WET
Act I, Scene V



Early evening, a few hours after dinner. Time enough for Halsten to be well done with his day's work, closed up, possibly fed. From the looks of him, recently bathed, freshly-shaved, and dressed nicely, although that's a little harder to tell when it's still variations on dark grayscale. Though there was a clear time set for meeting, he's arrived at least a quarter of an hour in advance of that, staking out a small table. That gives him plenty of time to have ordered a drink, to be nursing it when she arrives.

It's hard to tell exactly how much extra effort Loe's put into her appearance this evening. Her clothes aren't wrinkled from a day's wear, but she's dressed in her ususal sea colors of thin: her typical sleeveless top and a drawstring skirt that falls just above her knees. Her hair is twisted up in a knot and a few tendrils have escaped around her face, though that could very well be from the walk down from the Weyr and all those swirling ocean breezes. At least she doesn't appear to have any work with her. But tonight there's no usual direct in to the bar. Instead, she stops just inside the doorway to scan around the room until her eyes fall on a dark-haired, dark-clad man. Then her mouth curves to its sly smile and she moves to join him. "I'm surprised you're still here. I figured you'd have moved on before now." Since she's not late, he can infer her meaning as he likes.

As Loe comes over, Halsten makes a little beckoning gesture, and look, there's another drink. Okay, maybe not what she would have ordered for herself, but at least no waiting. Collins glass. Looks suspiciously like lemonade. Very witty. He doesn't go so far as to pull out her chair for her, though. Not that sort of a guy. "No reason to move on when I haven't sampled everything the current situation has to offer, is there? You look lovely. I hope you don't mind my taking liberties."

Loe isn't at all miffed to be pulling out her own chair, so he probably has no worries there. She tugs it out and slinks sideways into her seat, elbows on the table as she flashes a smile to the bringer of that drink and when they're gone, she lifts her glass to toast. "To... sampling?" she suggests with a laugh. "And thank you." For the compliment and the liberties. "Did you have a better day today or did you have to resort to napping under your book again?" She remembers.

"To sampling." Halsten lifts his glass, sits back in his chair. Relaxed but not slumping. He sips, sets his own glass back on the table again, grips the edge of the table with one hand for a moment. "A considerably better day. Excellent weather. Hot enough to start thinking that the availability of cold drinks in the vicinity would be a distinct advantage." He gestures that thought away like someone waving off smoke. "Not to bore you with business."

"I'm rarely bored with business," Loe assures, tasting her drink and keeping the glass held up for the next one. "Do you actually think there's merit to the idea? I always find when I'm visiting the market that it would be nice to have a spot to sit with a drink and my paper work. A nice easy location for meeting with vendors. That sort of thing." And she does take her next sip. "So what was the big seller today? Has the public caught on to your razors?"

The smile on Halsten's face broadens. "No? Good to hear. Very good to hear." He drinks again, then keeps it in his hand, shifting the glass--already about half-empty--back and forth so that the liquid in it swirls. "I do think there's a merit to it. It can't but help the rest of us. Keep people around longer. Perhaps even get people to come for that, and if they mill about afterwards, all the better. The razors, no. Alas. I did sell a very nice lady a box." That evidently constitutes really good business, from the pleasure with which he says it.

"That's the idea," Loe replies. "Little uninspiring thing that it may be." There's a smirk for those words as she recalls his initial reaction to the plan. "I believe you implied you had grander schemes?" Though if his sales today are any sign... She lifts a brow slightly. "A box?" Is that is? "Was it... a very large box?"

"I am most abashed. Although I do believe you ought to have grander schemes yourself. Why settle?" Halsten's glass goes back to the table before he leans forward, fingers laced. "Not a very large box. Very attractive, however. Intricate painting. Bit of inlay. Perhaps not every woman's cup of tea, but my customer was very pleased with it. I let it go for twenty. I probably should have insisted on twenty-five, but I can be a... very soft touch." For that astronomical sum, no wonder he's so pleased.

"I prefer to think of it as just a side project between larger ventures," Loe returns with a growing smirk. "Though I haven't really figured out what the next venture will be. I have some ideas but... nothing quite as powerful as I'd like." There's a quick shrug of her bare shoulder. And then her mouth starts to drop open, brows start to raise up. Quite an astronomical sum indeed. "Was it full of diamonds? The last wish of her dying daughter?" There are only so many reasons Loe can think of for someone to pay so handsomely for something that sounds so insignificant. "Soft touch indeed."

A shrug, a what-can-I-say look with raised eyebrows. Halsten's still smiling to beat all. "Everybody has something they're willing to pay dearly for. Something they want very... *very* badly." Evidently, for this woman it was a box. Who knew some people were so easily pleased? "You can do very well for yourself giving people just what they want, nothing more than that." Another sip, more drink-swirling. "So what would you call a... *powerful* idea?"

Loe's glance goes from leisure to observation while he talks. She's watching his face with care as he explains about people, their wanting and their prices. In fact, this topic catches her attention so thoroughly that he skips right past his question. "How do you know what that thing is? The thing they'd pay dearly for?" There's another question waiting, an eager spark to her eye, but it doesn't find a voice just yet.

If he's aware of her scrutiny at first, there's little sign of that. Just an open face, lots of smiling, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Then, at her question, all of that vanishes in a moment. Very serious, the smile disappears. Halsten leans forward further, gives her a long look in the eye. "Magic."

Loe leans forward as well, keeping her gaze steady in return for his long look. There's an open-mouthed smile on her face, precipitous. "That's not very helpful," she tells him just before the grin spreads wide again. "Seriously, how do you know? Tell me why she wanted the box so badly." That curious light still gleams in her eyes, sharp and playful. "Did you steal it from her?"

A laugh as he sits back, but then Halsten huffs. "I am many things, Loe, my darling, but I am not a common renegade *burglar*," he insists. That whole idea requires a long drink, and his glass is now just about empty, so there's a bit of a gesture towards the nearest serving person. "Can I get another, here? --Thanks." Back to Loe, and the smile's now comfortably back again. "Maybe not magic. A thousand different ways. When this woman the wrong side of forty looks at something like a six-turn-old girl eyeing a giant cake with big mountains of buttercream icing all over it, hard to miss that. Couldn't tell you why, only that she did. But sometimes... it's more subtle."

"I'm sure you're not a common anything," says Loe with her sly grin growing. He sits back and so she sits back, still grinning at him over the rim of her glass. "So, this woman probably never got a decent deal on anything in her life." If she has such little control over her enthusiasm. "So can you just guess sometimes? You see someone coming and you know even before they arrive what sort of thing they'll buy and how much you can get for it?" There's a little sideways sigh, though. "A cake with buttercream sound really good."

"Perhaps not," Halsten allows, though he inclines his eyebrows towards her again: "But I wouldn't take you for a woman of poor self-control, and yet I believe there's something in this world that'd make you light up, too." He doesn't linger on that statement, however. "Sometimes it's just a good guess, sure. But you get to know the look of a person. Body language. Big difference between a browser and someone really seeking, for example. Although even the browsers, sometimes there's something." And there's that second drink, which he sets into with polite gusto.

"That would make me light up?" Loe's brow arches again, that little something smirky lurking at the corner of her lips. "Or that I'd pay dearly for? It seems like paying dearly would take the edge off whatever joy being lit might bring." Her glass is tipped, more lemonade disappearing. "What about you? Is there anything that lights you up or are you far too worldly for that sort of thing? You've seen it all? Nothing left to surprise or delight you?" She's teasing, at least partially. Even as her teeth toy lightly with her lower lip, it doesn't completely erase the smile.

The trader licks his lips, takes another drink, sets down his glass. "I think... if something's gonna light you up, the marks don't matter." Now, there's a shock. Marks, not mattering? To Hal? "Me, well. Lot of power in that, isn't there? Finding the thing that matters so much. If I go and tell you the deepest desires of my heart, what guarantee do I have that you wouldn't take advantage?" Of Halsten. Poor, poor Halsten, so vulnerable. His face, though, is something nearer to genuinely serious. "The day that I cease to find delight anywhere in the world, I hope to leave it. Do you need that drink freshened?"

"I can't imagine the marks not mattering. Not in those kinds of quantities. Not to me, at least." So would that make Loe the more materialistic of the two? She doesn't seem the least bit abashed for saying such things either. "And I didn't ask for what it was that made you light up, just whether or not that thing existed or if you were the jaded sort. Are you afraid I'm trying to take advantage of you?" The notion keeps that grin on her face. A beat later, her brows pop up when he mentions the very good idea of getting her drink refilled. She makes an 'mm' of agreement as she gulps down a bit more just to get it out of the way, and then nods. "Thank you."

Or maybe just the one of the two who hasn't seen people being so really, genuinely happy. Or maybe Halsten's just totally pulling her leg. It's possible. Even if he does look so genuine. He waves for the refill, never mind that she could so easily have done that herself. The thought doesn't even seem to occur. "Well, then. I think... yes. I'm sure such a thing does exist for me." He doesn't answer about whether he thinks she's really trying to take advantage of him, though. Just smiles. "One learns to be... self-interested in my line of work. You understand. But I am not so completely unappreciative of life."

Is it telling in some fashion that Loe doesn't make any move to wave down another drink herself? She doesn't. She's perfectly happy to let Halsten take care of that. "Were you born into it? Being a trader. I know most people are, but sometimes it's something that finds a person later on. Are you part of a family of traders?" She shifts in her seat, finding a new comfortable position with her legs crossed to the side so that she's twisted to face him. "You haven't mentioned anyone traveling with you."

"I was indeed," Halsten says as the fresh drink arrives for Loe, nodding to the server perfunctorily as she sets it down. He has eyes only for his companion--not that the server, to be honest, is really much worth looking at anyway. A shifting body, no matter how subtly, and his eyes flick down to follow the movement. "Born into it. Although it was a bit... roundabout in the end. Sometime, I'll tell you the story." Presuming there will be other opportunities for such things! "I did have people who I used to travel with. I still rely on those connections, but I think I prefer a more settled life. They didn't."

Loe adds her thanks to the server, though she actually turns and looks at the girl and flashes her a quick wide smile. There's a flash of recognition when she turns back to Halsten and finds that he's so much more attentive to her than the serving girl. That makes her smile too, but it's a different sort of smile, pleased. "Why isn't it a story for tonight? What else are we supposed to talk about?" She finishes off that first drink, officially finished, and changes the cross of her legs again.

She's pleased, he's pleased that she's pleased, looking so much more relaxed now, but don't most people after a few drinks? Not that there's any other such sign of what he's had so far. "I am not," Halsten says, "so self-obsessed that I prefer to spend an entire evening talking about myself." Broad smile, there. "Especially with such intresting company. There you are, a very attractive woman, but you have a head for money, and obviously some ambition. So where did *you* come from, my peach?"

Relaxed as Halsten may be, Loe doesn't quite seem to share his repose. It's not that she's on edge, there's no tension or unease, just a touch of restlessness that persists, has her turning her glass around between her fingers. "So that you can make me the self-obsessed one?" But, with another smile, she's willing to oblige him. Sort of. "I come from s magical land far across the sea. My mother died when I was young, because that is the way it always happens with these stories. And I grew up to be a young woman with whom everyone is impressed. And one day I arrived here and all the plants, which had always been green but never fruitful, bloomed at once and brooks and streams that once seeped soundlessly through the earth sprang forth to babble in the air and sparkle in the sun." And that's as far as she can get before a chuckle breaks through her words. "Or something like that. Hey, would you... Would you like to go for a walk?"

Though Loe's certainly putting him on, Halsten nods along with a smile for the whole thing, start to finish, though by the end he's stifling a guffaw behind his hand. "A walk," he repeats, without responding to the rest of it immediately. "That sounds like an excellent thing on such a lovely evening." The poor server gets waved back, but however much in the way of funds he presses into her palm, it's enough to put a big smile on her face. That leaves Hal free to stand, offer a hand to Loe, palm up.

"Want to bring the drinks?" she asks him as they prepare to leave. Hers was -just- refilled, after all. "What have you been drinking anyway?" There's an easy way she takes his hand when offered, like she expected it the whole time, and then some element of her smile is still appreciative. Whether he wants to bring his own drink or not, Loe will take a moment to taste her lemonade again. "Part of it are true, you know. Think -have- bloomed since I arrived here. As far as never having bloomed before, I may have stretched that part just a little."

What a novel idea. Halsten picks his glass up, too, might as well, there's at least something left in it. "Same thing you are," he says. "Perhaps a might stronger." Or enough gin to knock out a runner. Something along those lines. "I didn't want you thinking I was trying to just--well." Get her drunk. That. The hand without the drink, however, is hers, enough to guide her back out to the beach, dusk starting to fall. "I can believe it. I suspect if you wanted Igen to bloom, it would follow suit in short order."

"Trying to get me drunk so that you could take advantage of me? Somehow I feel that tactic is a bit too..." Loe glances up, searching the dusk sky, letting him wait for it. "Ordinary. For you." But she has an idea. "Switch drinks with me." She holds her out for him and lifts her brow in a little challenge. Not that it should be particularly challenging for him to handle her drink. "I've never been to Igen." Not that going there would be necessary to understand the compliment he's paid. Which probably means that wasn't the point of saying it.

Upon the request, Halsten does actually offer her his partially-full glass, brows quirked with the unspoken question--is she indeed brave enough for this? If it doesn't contain actually enough gin to knock out the runner, it is at least extremely strong. But still enough lemon and sweetness to qualify as lemonade. Maybe. "Yes. It probably would be." He takes her glass then, if only to give her the free hand; its contents do not seem to particularly interest him. "Igen has its beauty. But it isn't here."

The juggle of glasses accomplished, Loe takes a sniff and just laughs. "How many of these have you had?" she wonders before actually sipping from his drink. If she doesn't find it tasty, well, at least she manages not to show much sign otherwise. "Igen was on your route, then? Did you have a particular route?" Halsten probably doesn't know her well enough to recognize that slightly clipped note at the end or to realize that she has far more questions just waiting to be asked. It would seem she's trying to be polite.

"Alcohol," Halsten says, gentle voiced, explaining, "doesn't really do much for me unless I take them strong." Whether that's true or not, if he's had several and he's still fully coherent, coordinated--at least, he seems pretty coordinated, the way he guides her into actually walking along the beach in question--well, they can't be hitting him that hard. "I've been there. Last few turns, I stick to Ista. And now I stick to here. Still enjoy travel, but not so much as I did."

"Why stick to Ista? I mean, yes, the green and the flowers and the smell of it, but how did travel lose its luster?" She glances up at him, reminded of his height now that they're walking side by side. Again she's watching his face, in profile now whenever he's looking ahead. "What changed?" As for his drinking, well, yes, he's leading and no, his lemonade hasn't killed her. Yet. She's slow to take a second sip.

There are a few silent steps as Halsten thinks about this. "Changing scenery only works for so long before you realize that it's not... novel anymore. It's not the change you need." He doesn't look at her as he says it, turning a bit to gaze out at the water, the waves. All that gorgeous view. "Start to think you're looking for something different than that. I don't know if I will find it here, but it's worth a try." He finally does sip from her lemonade.

Loe lets her gaze slip forward, down the dark beach stretching out in front of them, crowded jungle to one side, slosh of the surf on the other. "It seems the oppposite of what people usually do. Generally when someone wants a change, they move. Or they move and then things just happen to change. But you stopped moving. Do you feel a change? Does it feel different?"

"When you've been moving so long--" Halsten lapses into silence, again. A few more footsteps through sand, and then a few more after that, and then abruptly he stops still. His hand goes to her shoulder as though to steady her, stop her from keeping going without him, and then it drops, as he moves to actually put his arm around her, so absolutely presumptuous. "I don't know. Does it feel different?" If he weren't standing so close, his voice might not actually be audible, there, over crash of a wave against the land.

The silence has her glancing over just in time to see him stop and when his hand finds her shoulder, Loe stops too, standing still and waiting. It's either the waiting or the arm around her that has her turning her head to give him a more sidelong look, an expectant one. She might not shake him off right away, but there's no easy acquiesence under his touch either. "But how does it feel to you? To be still after so much time moving. Have you discovered anything new?"

She hasn't shaken him off. Or slapped him. By some terms, Halsten's doing pretty well yet, here. Smiling in the low light, but not that salesman's smile. Not the artificial just-ask-me-how kind of happiness. Just... a quirk at the corners of his mouth. "I think I like it." Alas for the other hand being full of a lemonade glass. Or maybe a good thing, as it limits how much he can get away with. Depending on perspective. The free arm stays where it is, hand curled around her side, so long as she'll tolerate it. "Miss a lot of things, when you keep moving. Worthwhile things."

"Like what?" Loe's about to drink from his glass again. "Name some." But she gets close enough to breathe it in again and this time she shakes her head. "Okay, I'll take my drink back. Yours is going to make my stomach roll." She offers his stronger beverage back, a bashfulness in her smile. "I'm a bit of a lightweight," she admits.

The thing about trading drinks back again is that it requires two hands. Halsten is not blind to this fact. Still, he draws back enough to take the one, offer her the other. "No worries," as far as the trade goes. "Curiosity cured the cat, didn't it? I'm sure I've heard that one before somewhere." Dark as it's getting, there's enough moonlight to catch that grin. "Should I say that there's a shortage of pretty girls? There might be, at that. Or a shortage of long-range plans. Of endeavors that turn a long-term profit."

"There's a shortage of those things while you're moving or now that you're settled?" Happy to have her own drink back, Loe takes a sizeable sip. She also takes the release of his arm as a change to step out of her sandals. "Shoes are always such trouble on the sand, aren't they?" She shakes the sand out of them, looping the strap around her fingers and letting them dangle there while she wiggles her toes. "I need a new plan. A big plan. Something spectacular." It's a musing that draws her gaze seaward, out at the darkness.

"Moving. Settled--seems to have at least the potential." Halsten stands there, hitches his hands for a moment in his pockets, watches the business with the sandals. "Can be," he admits. "Shoes. I mean." Good enough time to kick off his own, but he doesn't bother picking them up just yet. "Spectacular," he muses, more quietly, following her gaze. Then he crouches, sets his glass down next to the shoes. "I have had a few spectacular plans in my life. Sometimes they work out. Other times, not," he says as he straightens again.

Loe turns back from the sea to look at him. "That's surprising. I'd think that moving around would mean an endless variety of options, new things presenting themselves all the time." Soon she's observing while he crouches, making no comment, looking as if she actually has a clue about what he's doing down there. "I've been tasked with finding something that will bring people to Ista. One great draw. I can think of a million things to do once the people get here, but I can't come up with that one thing. That one big thing."

"A million things," Halsten suggests, and now that his hands are free, why, he comes closer to put an arm around her again. Persistence, isn't that supposed to be a good thing? "Endless variety. Endless variety is useless. All it means is all those options when you just want the one thing. Needle in a haystack." Then, abruptly, "Mind if we head down to the water? Wouldn't mind getting my feet wet."

"It's frustrating," Loe says with a tight sigh, even as he settles that arm around her. It would seem that the plans and prospects are more gripping than his physical presence. At least until she turns to eye him, a brow arched to ask some wordless question about this move of his. That curiosity is foremost, making the response about heading surfward little more than an idle, "Sure." But it's an affirmative nonetheless.

Given that affirmative, Halsten wanders down towards where the waves barely reach up onto the sand, leaving his shoes where they lie. A sigh then, perhaps for the cool water. Or not. "The more frustrated you allow yourself to get, the less chance you have of getting what you want. The mind needs to relax, to work. Get all keyed up, it can't do that. Now, see, here we are, everything gorgeous as anybody could ask, and what are you fretting about?"

He puts a reluctant smile on her lips--reluctant because though she seems to believe he's right about letting the mind relax, Loe would really rather that not be the case. In fact, as she stands there with the last lap of each wave wetting her bare feet, she becomes quite determined to find a way around relaxation. "Yes, it's lovely, but what would I do? Sit and stare at the water? Count waves? It doesn't sound relaxing. It sounds..." A beat later and with a quick guilty flick of her glance, she changes her mind. "It's lovely. It really is a very nice this evening." And finally, she confesses: "I'm a terrible date tonight."

"I would hazard that you're a terrible date in general. It's okay. We're fixing that." We? Halsten moves his hand up, strokes her shoulder, smiles at her. All the sorts of things that one could reasonably expect in this situation. Never mind what she might still be carrying, he bends anyway to scoop her up in his arms (or if absolutely necessary over his shoulder), relying basically on the element of surprise to get away with it, with the clear intend once he's done so of carrying her out into deeper water. This probably will not end well.

Her gasp turns to a sputter, "What are you doing?" There's the obvious answer, but that's probably not the one Loe is looking for. Nor does she exactly make this easy for him; there's some twisting. And once she realizes where he's headed? She composes herself enough to announce, "Halsten, I am not feeling relaxed!" And the tension in her voice, in all of her, backs up that statement. Meanwhile, she's poured her drink across the sand.

"You don't trust me?" Halsten sounds shocked, shocked that this could possibly be the case, as he manages to get to where the waves hit about hip deep without actually dropping her. Or simply throwing her in. "Water's perfectly warm." That statement does not lend itself to increased trust, true. "Can you swim?" That, either. He should probably also look a little less gleeful than he does.

"No?" Was she supposed to? "I'm ready to go home now!" Of course, she's not actually screeching at him or trying to hurt him or claw his eyes out or anything. In fact at this point, she's rather just trying to keep herself above the water, even if that means hitching herself a bit higher in whatever hold Halsten has chosen here. "I can't swim. Not at all." Lies.

A bright laugh. "What kind of Istan are you, not being able to swim? You'll just have to hold on." Because Halsten is in fact moving deeper into the water, which at least means that he's waist deep by the time a wave comes high enough to actually hit her at all. At least the second wave will probably be less shocking than the first, and it's not like he's staying high and dry himself. "Still want to talk business ventures?" The inquiry is oh-so-sweet.

Loe lets out a perfectly girly scream when the first wave hits her. And then it's too late to hope that he'll turn around and carry her back to land, so there's no point in holding onto him. Now she tries again to get away, neither hand free since the sandals and the glass are still with her, held up in the air as she tries twisting again. And pushing. As for his so-sweet question, she can't bring herself to answer, her brow furrowed.

If she's going to be like that, well. Halsten lets her go--though not without a certain reluctance. Maybe he's really not entirely sure of this alleged ability to swim. Or just less honest motives. Not like he's got any real claim to honest motives at this point. He does, however, attempt to set her down in such a way that she can find footing, hopefully not lose her sandals. The glass is incidental. The Sandbar surely has others. "Someone would think," tone teasing yet, "that you'd never been wet before."

For all that she may have seemed to dislike the water, Loe is certainly familiar with it, comfortable even if she's still holding her shoes up. The glass is another story. Empty of its tasty lemonade, it now has other uses. She dunks it below the surface only to sling a cupful of water at Halsten's head. And she smirks a little. At least she wasn't throwing water at him in anger. "Is this what you do on all your dates? The girl gets dull and so you dump her in the ocean?"

There is a noise of surprise, hands raising to cover his face. "Yes," comes the reply from the damp and deadpan Hal. Since he's wet anyway, he ducks himself under the rest of the way to come up, fully soaked, and push his hair back from his forehead with both hands. "All the time. At least once a day. Twice, yesterday. You don't like swimming?" He asks it so seriously, like everybody swims fully dressed. At night.

"I do like swimming," Loe insists, swimming shoreward now, since she's still holding her damn shoes. A little warning would have been nice and she could have left them on the beach at least. She glance back over at him, now with her hair slicked back. "You don't like dates?" There's some implication in her words, just as audible as her teasing smile.

So she can swim. There's one question answered. Halsten follows only partway towards shore, lingers to allow some increase in distance, watching. Seeing, perhaps, if she comes back or not. "Like dates. Like business," he offers, loud enough to carry that small distance. "But at some point you have to pick one or the other."

She's a good way into shore, the water swirling around her thighs before she prepares to lob her shoes and the glass far enough onto to the sand to be safe from the lapping tide. Except, she doesn't throw them. Not yet. And Loe doesn't return to the deeper waters with Hal right away either. She lingers in the air with her wet clothes clinging and dripping and turns back to watch him. The smile is smaller now, apologetic. "And what do you pick? Dates or business?"

A low whistle. It borders on a cat-call. "I don't classically conduct business at this hour. Much less hip-deep." Halsten is still standing there, though he fills the time with loosening up his collar, undoing a few buttons. Salt-water-soaked cotton is not, admittedly, the most comfortable fabric in the world to be rubbing at the throat. "Afraid I have all the wrong sorts of ideas for your purposes, at the moment."

There's a dark, wry twist in Loe's voice. "It seems that so do I." Either it's his catcall or some chill in the air only she can feel, but she crosses her arms over her chest in a light embrace of herself. She's not as rigid as her stance might imply, shifting gently in the water glancing down demurely. "So what are we supposed to do now? What happens on a date at this point?"

"Well." Halsten puts a hand up to his chin, pondering the subject with exaggerated care. "I can walk you home and kiss you goodnight. You can agree to see me again and, once I've gone, change into dry clothes and maybe have a glass of wine and an early night." Brows arch higher, exaggerated facial expression, too, so that with luck she won't miss it even if the light is wrong. "Or you can come back here and from there... we'll see." He smiles. "It's entirely up to you."

Loe stares upward at the sky for a few moments, searching for the answer up there. When she lowers her eyes again, her smile is no longer so apologetic. It's knowing and sly. "This isn't the evening you expected at all, is it. A drink, a romantic walk by the sea, then a splash in the water, holding onto me while I giggle and squirm until we're suddenly kissing. That's the way it's supposed to go, isn't it? That's what you really had in mind." She seems perfectly certain, perhaps entertained, perhaps curious. "I seem to have failed to play my part correctly and I wonder what you're thinking now. If you're reassessing."

"I believe you over-credit my planning ability. I wasn't sure you would even show up." Halsten is on his way out of the water, now, if not in any particular rush. "I was certainly not sure what to expect of a woman who inspires men to fist-fights in public places. You were worried about work. You don't seem to be, anymore." Once out, it's back up towards wherever he left his shoes, even if that now involves some guesswork. "You suggested the walk." Eons ago, back there. "Should I reassess? What does a man have to do to get a kiss from you?"

"Inspires..." Loe can guess what fist-fight that would be. She lifts a hand (the one with the glass) against her forehead, looking down and hiding her face for a moment from her gentlemanly date. Instead of speaking about that fisticuffs experience, she says, "I don't worry about work. Worry isn't the right word." Since he's continuing all the way back to dry land, she wades out of the water as well. "I've never tried to kiss me. I'm not sure I can give you any pointers." Though she can give him a smirk with that.

Halsten grabs his shoes, his glass, the rest of the contents of which he downs all at once to no noticeable difference. Just finishing it off. "You can call it what you like," he says easily. "Suppose I'll just have to keep trying, then. Come on. I'll walk you home." He rests the empty glass percariously in one shoe, to offer her the other arm.

"How about as far as the Sandbar?" Loe suggests, though she does take his arm. Her touch is light, as if she's trying not to get him wet, even though he's just as soaked as she is. "I wouldn't want you to walk all the way back to the Weyr just to come down here again for your drink. Unless you wouldn't be returning to the Sandbar. Perhaps the Seven? For your wine?"

"I have feet. I can walk." Not that Halsten is denying where his ultimate goal might be. Though he does add the question, "Are you so quick to foist me off on some other girl? You wouldn't prefer I went to bed early myself, sulked a bit in my inevitable loneliness?" His tone is maybe a smidge less teasing than it would have been if the question had been asked earlier--but only that much so. He starts them back in the direction of the Weyr, swinging his shoes front and back a bit as he goes.

"Am I supposed to have some feeling about that? We've just met." She finds it odd, that expression is genuine. "And, my apologies if it offends your honor but I don't think this is all new territory for you, that I'd be your first." Loe laughs quietly and lightly at the thought, though it's subdued now by that hint of something less teasing she sense in his voice. "You should probably return the glasses anyway."

A light question in return: "Does that always stop you from having opinions? Just having met someone. I'd imagined you having quite a lot of opinions about things. I'm disappointed." Halsten is smiling far too much to be really disappointed. "I should indeed return the glasses. Perhaps have another. I don't think there will be another girl tonight. For the record." Whether she says she doesn't care or not. He continues along, tracing that route back to the Sandbar. It was lighter when they came this way before.

"No, I suppose it doesn't usually stop me," Loe has to admit. "But I just... expect it, I guess? So my opinion would be that it wouldn't surprise me if you went and found an easier woman to pursue. I feel like I'm supposed to go on about how she wouldn't be as satisfying as me or how you'll probably think of me in the middle of things but... I guess I just doubt that. I think perhaps I'm not actually any good at dating. My better work is more freeform." The smile she flashes him then is rather sly and just a little cheeky.

A smirk, but Halsten isn't exactly looking at her when he does it. "If I'd wanted easy, I would have asked someone less likely to get me punched. I thought you were intriguing. Easy is... rarely so. Is that what your 'freeform' work results in? The fighting? I wasn't asking you to sell yourself. Just trying to figure out how you think. What makes you tick." At tick, he drums a little on her arm with two fingers, then grins. "Judging progress."

"That was... not my fault. I sincerely doubt you'd get punch for buying me a drink." After the little taptap of his fingers, Loe releases his arm to switch her glass so that she carries everything in the same hand and has one free to start tugging at her dress, unsticking it in the places where the sticking has become uncomfortable. "How's the judging process going? Have you figured anything out yet?"

"A few things." Hal switches his shoes into his other hand since he has that one free again. Keeps his eyes mostly ahead this time, no matter what she's doing with her dress. "You're very attractive." That took time to figure out? "But you don't know what you want, and that makes it impossible to find." Halsten the finder, as always. "I could talk you into going to bed with me." That's couched as a statement of fact, though possibly a bald-faced lie or just bravado, accompanied by a sideways glance. "But I find I'd rather not, inexplicably."

He could talk her into bed? That gets a laugh from Loe's lips. A real one. "No, you couldn't," she says with amused confidence. "You might have it reversed. I'm pretty sure I could talk you into bed without any trouble. Though I might not need very much talking. Of course, I probably couldn't help myself." I do enjoy it. And I'm sure you would too." She cuts a glance at him to size him up, as if she's plotting right now the things she could say. "I'll take the compliment though, if you're handing it out. You're not unattractive yourself."

Shoes are switched back again so Halsten can give her a pat on the arm that's nothing if not condescending. "You would be selling ice in Igen," he observes wryly. "I could," he says again, "but for some reason I try to talk you into liking me instead--and I'm afraid that's a great deal more difficult. Rather more like selling sand." And there, moving on a bit further, is the fabled Sandbar they left a lifetime or so ago. "I could still walk you home."

"Yes. You could. Do you really want to? Is your change of clothes back at the Weyr or do you have a wagon you stay with?" It doesn't seem to matter what the context is, this practicality and attention to detail is never too far from Loe's mind. "I suppose if you're going back to get cleaned up, it would silly for us to walk in the same direction but not together." She hands the glass to over, presuming he'll be the one to run in and dispose of it. "But it's not necessary. Though..." There's a pause as a thought comes to her. "I do have a question. If you're headed that way."

"At the Weyr. I firmly believe that a proper bed is one of the primary perks to settling down. But. I'll dry." Halsten shrugs, careless about his appearance, despite how impeccable he usually presents. But then, he's not trying to sell anything at the moment. Much. He takes the glass. "If you'll let me, I'll go with you. What's your question?" He lingers long enough for that.

"I'll ask when you come back," Loe tells him with a satisfied grin, waiting for him to head off and return before she shares. "You said I don't know what I want? Why would you think that? What gives you that idea?" There's honest curiosity in her watchful eyes, in the way she tips her head. Her feet start to move onward slowly, too busy with her wondering for a faster pace.

Halsten isn't long with the glasses, returning back down to the beach at a trot, obviously eager. Maybe he thinks it's going to be something more exciting than it turns out to be. "Ah, that." He stands there, puts his hands into his damp pockets. "Not that I'm not sure there aren't things you know you want. Dry clothes. A cookie. Whatever. But as a general rule, no. You seem to be here because I'm a... curiosity. An impulse purchase you don't know what to do with." A status that doesn't seem to upset him much.

Loe ahs with a slow nod. "So, you mean I don't know what I want with you. Not that I don't know what I want out of life in general. But you that if I knew what I wanted, you'd attempt to deliver that. Is that the trader in you? See a need, seek to fill it?" There's that little teasing again, in her voice, in the pale-light hints of her smile. "I like that, though -- impulse purchase." She lets those words roll from her mouth, just enjoying the feel of them.

"They are often," Hal observes mildly, "the same things. Love, and life. Or," and a smirk, "sex and life, if you prefer." He shrugs, starts off back in the direction of the Weyr, waiting only for her to come with. "I suppose it is the trader. But everyone does it. Otherwise it's just wasted time. Courting someone who isn't who you actually want." More smirking. "Though there's something to be said for impulses."

"Do believe that's so of everyone? That what they want out of life is the same thing they want with love? Or do you mean to imply that we're all looking for love and life in equal parts? Or sex and life in equal parts, if that's... more your style," Loe adds with the cock of her brow. Her grin pulls sly again, her feet moving more easily now, heading toward that steep path up to the plateau. "Thinking it's safe to say you are... courting me," she uses his word, with his inflection. "What makes you think I'm what you want?"

It is steep, and late, and for a moment Halsten has to worry about his footing on the path, not the conversation. "It's just all tied up together. All of it. You can't separate them." He lags behind for just a moment, only to take a couple quick steps to catch up. "Maybe it's just that you're hard to get. Maybe it's just the thrill of the chase. Maybe after I win, I take off never to be seen again."

Loe is quiet for a bit, perhaps just as much for the difficult path, though perhaps just as likely she's mulling over his words. "It's an interesting theory, though. So, if a person were to want a comfortable, easy life, then they would want their... romantic involvements to be similarly easy and comfortable?" Her sandals bump against him as his catching up lands them side by side again and she murmurs a quick apology. "And what makes you think I'm hard to get?" she asks with a laugh. "Maybe you're just not my type."

"And someone who liked adventure would want... adventurous. I imagine." Halsten could just be totally talking out of his ass, of course. As things level out, he goes to take her arm again. But there's no more arm-around-her business now, for whatever reason. Just that slightest step removed. "Perhaps I'm not. But you smile too much. Entirely too happy. No, I don't believe that. You'd have told me no, that was all right, you'd walk back by yourself."

Loe takes his arm easily, so much like she accepted him buying her a drink or offering a hand when she stood up from her seat. As if it's entirely natural. "Though it would seem that sometimes cantakerous people end up with a mild, steady sort of relationship when this theory would expect them to have a relationship that includes lots of fighting." But she'll smile again, too much though it may be. "I suppose I'm giving you a chance to make a sale. I'm generous like that."

"Maybe we know different cantankerous people." The trader's done there is clearly joshing with her, though. Halsten lapses, then, into an extended silence as they walk. "Generous. Yeah." More thoughtful silence. "So how'm I doing? On this sale." It starts off a serious question, until he leans in towards her, eyes damn near actually twinkling, to ask, "Do I have some hope of closing before we get back? Just for reference. Y'know."

"Um, you're doing just fine." Generous, remember? She says it graciously, extra graciously. "But..." And here Loe's eyes sparkle back in reflection. "I don't think you're going to close the deal tonight. And I'm pretty sure you don't want to. You have the leisurely courting of a man in no hurry to reach his goal." She says it and continues across the plateau with him, smiling all the while, and then that smile fades in silence and she abruptly turns her face against his shoulder, stumbling for a step or two and hiding whatever expression she wears in a mash against his damp shirt, only to just as suddenly straighten up and refind her easy steps. As if that didn't happen, she says, "Tell me something about yourself. Some little people wouldn't suspect."

The first thing Halsten does in that moment is looking over her, around--checking, clearly, if there's somebody there she's supposed to be hiding from because it couldn't possibly be him. Right? "I--ah. Hum. See, I'm not sure what people wouldn't suspect. I like to think of myself as an open book. Hm." He has to think about it for a little more, casting glances at her now and then that could pass for concerned. Then, breezily, "Let's see. The first time I ever fell in love, I was seven. She was a route harper. It didn't work out."

No, there was no one. No reason for that thing random moment unless she had something on her face and thought it best rub it off on him like a runner with an itch. There's little sign from her that it happened, other than the remnants of some odd and perhaps even positive expression. Nevermind all that, though. Now Loe is paying attention to his story with a light laugh for the notion of a seven year old all moony over some harper. "So what was her name? Did you tell her you were in love with her?"

"I did." All the wistfulness of lost love in Halsten's voice, there. "I wrote her a song. I was going to run off with her. Her name was... Perla? Persa? Something with a P. She laughed. Destroyed my ambitions of Harpering forever. I had to find something else to do with myself." He spends a few moments of their walk whistling a few bars of something vaguely melodic, all sad minor key. "No, that's not it. I forget. It was probably terrible."

"First love and you don't even remember her name? Do you remember what she looked like? What it was you loved about her?" Usually it's the person who's being asked that looks thoughtful, but now Loe glances upward again, rifling back in her own memory, or so it would seem. "Wait, you remember the song? You don't remember her name but you remember the song? Terrible, Hal. Terrible." She's teasing, since people don't scold effectively with wide grins. "Do you think you could have enjoyed being a Harper? Like her, perhaps, with a route. A trader of songs?"

He huffs. "I was seven," Hal makes his excuse. "Long dark hair. Probably had a face like a runner, I don't think I had much taste in women at the time. Beautiful voice. Mysterious. I might have enjoyed it, but I doubt I would have survived apprenticing. All those rules. Organized structure. Not my sort of thing anyway." He waves that thought off with the hand still holding his shoes. "So, your turn. Tell me something about you. Only fair."

Loe snickers a little at various points of his tale--the fact like a runner, the unwanted rules. "The beautiful voice sounds nice. Was the voice mysterious or was it the woman herself? As far as your memory can figure, of course." She he -was- seven and can't recall her name. When he turns the question on her, she thinks a moment, twists her mouth to the side. "Um, well, I'm not sure if it's really something that no one suspects because plenty of people know but... perhaps you don't. It's new to you, so it still counts, right?" She doesn't really need an answer. "I sleep with the doors opens." And, she also feels compelled to add: "That's not an invitation, by the way." No matter what -other- men might think. "I've gotten more used to it, but I don't really like sleeping in the Weyr all that much. It feels stuffy and closed in. I like to think that having the door open, some outside air might actually reach me."

"She was, I think, but then, she was hardly talking much to me. Being seven. And all." Halsten moves his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. "I would never take it as such." Unlike some other men, he has manners. Or pretends to have manners when it's convenient. Something. "It's some adjusting. You thought of moving? Interval and all. No reason to be under stone. Plenty of space around. I was thinking, if I do stay on indefinitely, maybe if I can come up with the funds, build a place. Little one. Does the Weyr go for that?"

"I've thought about getting myself a ground weyr but... they're always in high demand. My job is to keep the riders happy and comfortable. Sort of. Anyway." Loe takes a big old breath of air. Delicious, fresh night air. "I don't really know if the Weyr goes for that. It's one of the things I've been thinking about, actually. Not building a place for myself but building a few cottages that could be rented out. If someone wants to take a vacation, get away from life, maybe they don't want to be at the Weyr at all. Maybe they want to be in a little house in the jungle with a private bit of beach. But it might be more than people can really afford. And I don't know if Nenita would go for it."

"Mm." Pause. "This is business again, isn't it? Damn. No. Later. We're talk about this... later." It's not too far now to the caverns, and the closer they get, the less hurry Halsten seems to be in. "As nice a distraction it is from my inevitable failure this evening. Willing as I am to accept it in the service of the greater good, I would hardly be doing a service to mankind to say that it hadn't crossed my mind."

"That a little house with a private beach hadn't crossed your mind?" Loe guesses. She can only guess as somewhere in Hal's speech, she gets confused about whether or not he's actually talking to her or if he's just having a conversation with himself. Her brows start to furrow, eyes on the path ahead, slowly as their steps might be eating that path. "You don't like talking business." She's obseved that much.

"No. Well--that has, too. But. Never mind." That might be the first time all evening that Halsten has, even for a moment, sounded a little flustered. He shakes his head. The moment passes. "I like talking business. At times and places that are appropriate to talking business. I don't like talking business with women while my mind is--elsewhere. Afterwards is another story. I learned a long time ago that one gets involved in fewer bad deals that way."

Loe does catch that flustered moment, completely aware that this not his usual delivery, that things have suddenly started coming out in a whole new fashion. It makes her watch that much more intently, the eager, curiou light glimmering in her eyes. "You do like talking business," returning to her original assumption, before he started actively evading her work-related topics. "These bad deals, did you at least actually get laid? Or just screwed." Har. "And what was it that crossed your mind then? What are you talking about?" She's almost come to a stop again, so busy wondering what's caused this change Halsten.

Composure takes a moment to fully resume, but Halsten has his groove back again. Really. Even if he does actually stop, there, since it's easier to get back to himself without having to walk at the same time. "Both, generally. It makes it only marginally more tolerable. And you, my peach, are a distraction of the very first order. That would be what's been crossing my mind. I am simply going to have to live with the disappointment." Then he goes to start walking again.

"I've heard that before. No recreation until after the deal is done, I believe it went." This time the twist of her lips is quite such a pleasant one. "Though you're claiming it goes the other way. No business until the recreation is done. I suppose it's good practice," Loe reluctantly agrees. "But it could be vague as to which part is business and which is pleausre. And it seems like it could mean missing out on a particularly good time." By now she just shrugs, reluctance having melted away to be replaced by more questions. "Why peach?" she asks. And also: "Does this mean we can't talk busines at all? Even if my work has nothing to do with yours and isn't any sort of negotiation?" For that last query, she tugs his arm a bit.

"A particularly good time." Halsten has to mull over that line. Seriously mull. Those are good words, after all. "Why not peach? I like peaches. Sweetness. You could use some sweetness." Broad smile spreads across his face. "Not, to be honest, used to talking to women who aren't in my line of work who want to talk work at all. But it's a fine line. What if I had some brilliant idea for your cottages? I would want a cut of that. And if you stood there looking all lovely in the moonlight and suggested a percentage that was an absolute ripoff--I might be so distracted as to agree. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Are you saying that gazing on me, looking lovely in the moonlight, wouldn't be worth a percentage or two?" Loe even bats her lashes once. Which might just drive message home that he shouldn't be negotiating with her around. "Plus, you assume that I'd be trying to strike an unfair deal. I think the best deals are ones where everyone is happy. But then... I'm not a trader." By now they reach the caverns and moonlight is replaces by the glowlights that line the halls. Again she slips a glance up at him, the sly grin lurking on her lips. "If you did have an idea for cottages that you'd be willing to discuss, that might mean we'd have to meet up again sometime."

"I would think it was absolutely worth it," Halsten admits, in a quieter voice that might almost be the truth, as they head inside. "And I'm quite sure I would be happy right up until you found some other poor sap to take advantage of." Wry smile back down at her, he doesn't seem to really think this likely. "Which way from here?" at a junction in the caverns. Then, "Would you see me again even if I didn't have thoughts to share with you?"

Loe tips her head in the direction of her room. Since she isn't currently within, the door is closed just like all the others, but it's there just ahead. "Would he really be a poor sap or would you just be jealous?" She squeezes his arm again, a hug against her side. Then she swings her sandals outward. "This it is. My door." So she stops there, turning to face him. "Would you still share those thoughts if I said yes?"

There indeed is the door, Halsten looking away from her to it almost as though startled. A door! In the caverns! "I might be jealous. He'd also be a poor sap, trying to stand up to the likes of your charms." And it draws close, is in fact right there, the end of this particular journey. As she turns to face him, he raises one hand to stroke her cheek. "Yes. Of course I would. So?"

Loe closes her eyes, that deep smirk of her smile keeping away any chance that she's whistfully dreaming while he strokes her cheek. And she gives him a little nod before her lashes lift. "You should go get changed. Dry." Her own clothes are barely damp any longer, but they're also of notably thin material. Manly fabrics probably take longer. "I wouldn't want you to chafe." She does that thing again, where she pronounces that last work with particular relish.

The drawbacks of being manly. Heavy fabrics and women who tease about chafing. The stroke ends with something that's either a pat with the palm or a play at a slap. "Good idea. You're just full of good ideas." So now he's walked her home and she's mostly sort of kind of agreed to see him again, which leaves--one very chaste little peck on that same cheek. "Have a good night. Loe." Not peach, see? Maybe that tender concern for his well-being was mistaken for sufficient sweetness.

There are surely girls, many of them, many within these very walls, who would find such a polite little kiss extremely disappointing, an insult perhaps or a sign that things have gone terribly wrong. But Loe grins at him, knowing and amused and wry, as he pulls back from that little peck. Her hand comes up between them, it's trajectory uncertain. "Good night, Halsten." She pinches his chin and then turns to mess with the lock of her door.

Something about good manners dictates that Halsten linger long enough for her door to actually get properly unlocked, but as soon as that's been achieved he's off down the corridor, whistling a version of the same little thing he'd been doing earlier, this one a little less forlorn and a little more smug, if it's possible for a whistled tune to be smug.