Log: Edgy
It's been a fairly clear day since noon, though there was some rain the morning; there's been enough of a breeze for most of the clouds to pass. It didn't do much for the humidity, but now there's sun, things have mostly dried out, and Hal is passing a somewhat slow afternoon at the market, feet propped up against an empty crate tipped sideways. Every now and then he sits up just far enough to see if there's anybody coming. Generally, the answer is no, and the attempts to look and see have become few and further between as the hot afternoon drags on.
The thick Istan summer does make the market traffic a little slow, though a new trader has been setting up their wares today, which might explain why some of the other booths are seeing even less visitors than usual, would-be customers distracted by the prospect of something new. In fact, that's where Loe has been, sharing her sunny smiles with the older man who's setting up a rack of sunhats and headscarves. Depending on whether or not a person is listening for it, the headwoman's bright laugh might carry a bit. But, eventually, she steps away from that new booth and appears in front of Halsten's, a hand on one of the supports, her weight casually slung to one side. "Hello stranger," she smiles slyly at him.
No point in being too overly jealous of his business; Halsten almost certainly had the benefit of a good day when he first arrived, too. And he seems little perturbed by being able to sit back a bit in the heat. He does straighten at Loe's approach. "And hello to you, pretty lady who I have never met before in my life. Can I sell you something, or are you just here because you've heard how terrific a guy I am and you came to see for yourself?"
Loe's eyebrows lift slightly, some quiet surprise that he's choosing to play today. "Can you sell me something," she repeats, amused as she mulls over the words. "That is a very good question. So very many ways to take it." As for him being a terrific guy, she looks him over, down to his elevated feet, up to his face again. "Are you going to make a pitch? Try to guess what I might be interested in buying?"
Feet swing down slowly; no rush about getting up, not this afternoon. This isn't an afternoon for rushing. "I mean, of course, in a completely platonic way," Halsten reassures, or something. "I might guess, given your interest in my fine friend down the way there, that you were in the market for either a scarf or a hat, but I'm afraid I have very little selection of either. And if you were really interested in one, why, you'd probably already have it, and yet there you are steadfastly hatless."
"Indeed, I am," Loe agrees with a wry little grin. "Hatless. Why, I'm practically naked." At least from the neck up. Saying it deepens her grin and puts a teasing spark in her eye, an amused light. She pushes off the stall's support, lazy and languid. "Perhaps you should buy me a hat. Or are you not the gift-giving type?" She slips around the front display, drawing closer to his chair as her gaze drifts around the space, perusing what he has available today. She might even seem to be looking for something in particular, but if she is, it would seem she isn't finding. Yet.
"Perhaps I'm not the gift-giving type. It's not very good business, giving things away. I believe I'm supposed to sell them." Halsten doesn't bother actually standing, though he does lean over to the counter, to pick up one of a set of carved wooden egg cups. "Buying things for my customer base would leave me bankrupt in very short order. Especially for complete strangers. I have some very nice egg cups, if you happen to be a fan of soft-boiled eggs." Holding it up. See? Very nice.
"I wasn't thinking that it was something you'd be inspired to do for every costumer," Loe returns, frowning with a beat's confusion as he leans toward her -- oh not toward her, toward the counter; she shifts out of his way, standing there beside his chair. "Just your favorite ones." Which would surely include her. She slips him one of those dark, suggestive smirks and then her attention shifts to the egg cup. As he hold it up, she puts her hand out in case he's offering it. The arch of her eyebrow and the twist of her lips are both skeptical as she says, "Do you find that these are a hot sellers here? Egg cups? Really worth your time?" She starts to step away, looking around again. "You don't happen to keep any sort of list of all the wares you have regular access to, do you?"
"Of course. They go like hotcakes," Halsten informs her with deadly seriousness, which probably means that no, they don't. Another reach over to put it back where it was sitting before. "I suppose I could buy hats for my favorites. If I wanted to. Perhaps I do. Hats. Shoes. Ostentatious jewelry." In other words--oh, burn. "Of course I keep a list. It's in my head, along with all my other lists. Do you see me writing stuff down very often? Only when I have to."
Loe doesn't perceive the burn or, if she does register the intent of his words, she assumes they're empty anyway. She lets out a laugh, a soft chuckle, and allows her fingers to skim over random items he has on display, not bothering to look at any of them now. Instead, her green eyes have turns back to the trader. "So lets hear this list. Nenita gave me the impression that you were interested in acquiring various things for my little cottage, but..." That sweet smile shows up, the too-sweet one. "I don't anticipate needing much in the way of egg cups." And then she stops, looking back to the cups in question, giving them a baffled face. "Why egg cups? Shaving razors I understand, people might actually use them but egg cups?" She laughs again, bright and mocking. "Are you even trying to make any money here?"
Empty words, Halsten? Whoever would think--okay, well, Loe probably does know him well enough to assume that, yes. "Egg cups could be very welcoming. Show your guest that yes, Ista believes that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and is looking out for their welfare." A false smile which gives way to one with a smidge more truth in it. "You never know what people will buy. And, more significantly, these I got with a set of particularly attractive decorative eggs, which unfortunately someone preferred to purchase without the cups. I might as well make the attempt. Trying to sell you a razor might be considered uncomplimentary." He clears his throat, finally stands up. "Reciting you the whole list from memory isn't how it works. If you need something, you ask, and I tell you if I can get it for you, and quote you a price."
Welcoming, breakfast, Loe cannot help but smirk back at him, her delighted amusement dancing there in her eyes and behind her smile. She does enjoy his bullshit. And then, a few beats later, that smirk still in place, she wonders, "You don't think I could have any use for a razor? I think it's one of the more versatile items you have to sell." In fact, she'll step over toward them now, ready to survey the options. "And I might yet buy one. Which one do you think is the most feminine?" Surely she hasn't forgotten that other part of their discussion, the list, but for the moment it seems the razors take precedence.
"One of the first things you learn in this business is that you don't get very far implying that your female clientele has to worry about excessive hair. Even when they do." Very serious, again, but Hal's more than willing to look through them, come up with one with a handle that is a sort of decorative enamel in shades of pink. Or, he might spin it to someone else, 'light red'.
Loe lingers very close to him when he joins her by the razors. She could have stepped away, given him room, but she doesn't and when Hal picks up that pink (light red) choice, she reaches out to slip it from his hand. "That's very polite of you." Not insulting the ladies, that is. "Though you could always try the angle of selling them as gifts. Imply that the female clientele must certainly have a fella, since she's so very attractive. And wouldn't she like that fella to be clean-shaven?" She flips the blade out and back in, quite carefully, but largely her eyes are drawn up to watch Halsten's expression. "Or how... intimate," she says that word quietly, which might somehow make it more notable. "How intimate shaving could be."
"The former would only work if I had any idea that you had a fella, which, unless you picked one up recently, I don't think is the case?" The lift at the end turns it into a question. "And on the latter--" Hal clears his throat, one hand over his mouth. "Well, some women, if I said that, might take it as some kind of an implication." Like she could not possibly have intended any kind of implication, and never mind how close she's standing. "I believe," then, "you had some questions about materials for this project of yours." Changing the subject: Time-honored defense against implications.
"I suppose that's true. But I'm sure a clever salesman could find a way to give them the idea without getting his hands dirty." Loe turns the pink enamel over and over in her palm, closing her fingers on it and relaxing them again, like she considering its weight. "There is something... close about it though, isn't there?" she muses. "A woman shaving her man? All that trust in letting someone hold a blade like that against your throat. Intimate." That's all she meant. Right? There is some tiny glimmer of a smirk curving one corner of her lips. And just when it seems like she might continue to ignore his list, she says, "I don't know exactly what I'm looking for yet. Or if you'd really be the man to get it. If you can't give me any idea of what you have access to..." Perhaps she's being difficult, and the arch of one eyebrow might say she knows it, but, "I could be looking to make some considerable purchases." Money money.
The chair is reclaimed now that Halsten's finished whatever showing off the goods he seems to intend to do, and if that happens to give him a little bit of breathing room further away from her, that's entirely concidental. "It would be, I suppose. If intimacy was something one was interested in." One, hypothetical person. Male or female. "A fair quantity of construction materials, as a general rule, from here and there. I know a gentleman who does very good furniture if you can keep him off the drink while he's working on it. That sort of thing." But he's not giving names or locations. Wary.
Loe watches him move away, that calculation plainly in her eyes. It seems unrelated to her words. "We'll be using what's on site, for the most part and I've arranged for some good quality supplies to be sent from smithcraft. But there's a good chance that if you had some tools and accessories that I'd be in a position to put them to use. But yes, I'd be interested in furniture. Though, I can't say that hearing your man is a drunk gives me all that much faith. I wouldn't want to have everything all done and ready except that we're waiting on your friend to put the bottle down and deliver the bed." Then she holds up the folded razor blade. "How much?"
"You don't have to use my acquaintance," Hal points out. "You don't have to have any information from me at all. I'm sure you can find perfectly good craftsmanship on your own. You're a smart girl. He does exceptionally good work and he's cheap, though." He taps his fingertips on the arm of his wooden folding chair. "That depends. Am I expected to deliver the gentleman you're going to share it with, too? That's not really so much my area of expertise."
"Do you want the business or not? Would you rather give me a hard time?" Loe might narrow her eyes at him at first, like this is a bit of a threat, but the sly smile starts to show again. "As for the furniture... I'd like to see his work, what his range is, what he offers. If that's possible. Good work cheap does have it's allure." She turns the pink handle int her fingers, rubbing her thumb over the inlaid enamel. "As for the blade, are you in the habit of selling gentlemen?" That does make her laugh, a little quiet one for herself, and then she lifts her glance to him again. "Or was that a personal offer?"
A long and thoughtful pause, mouth twisted up in a deliberate parody of pensiveness. "I think I'd rather give you a hard time," Hal decides, tone implying this may be the biggest decision he's made in the year to date. "And no. I'm not in the habit of selling gentlemen--others or myself. Gifts might be another matter, but I'm still not sure if I'm the sort of person who gives gifts, remember?" Tongue runs briefly over the inside of his lower lip, just barely visible. He may not have even realized he did it. "Or whether you would constitute the sort of favorite customer who would be so favored."
Her smile spreads wider, perhaps pleased that he's chosen to give her a hard time, entertained by his choice at least. "You still haven't named a price," Loe reminds him, lifting the enamel handle to her lip to brush it back and forth across that smile she wears. "The rest... I suppose that's up to you. I can't accept an offer that hasn't been made. And at the moment, I don't actually own this blade to practice my shaving skills on anyone. But it would be a shame to make such a purchase and have no use for it." With her hip slung against the table, she lets out a woeful sigh and tips her head to the side.
"You also can't reject one that hasn't been made, either." Halsten has his eyes on the razor or on her smile, one or the other. Something like that, anyway, isn't it? "A quarter, for you. Almost a gift." Almost, if not quite. "I'm sure you can find some willing young man who'll put his life in your hands, somewhere or other around here. Or perhaps back at the Weyr, down at the docks--somewhere, I'm sure." Gracious smile.
"Oh, Halsten. Are you afraid I would reject your offer?" Loe wonders, a little extra pout on her lips, a little extra sorry sadness in her voice. It only lasts for a moment and then she's grinning at him again, pushing off the table to step up to his chair. "A quarter, huh? I don't have it on me. Would you be willing to hold onto this for a little while? So I have a chance to come back and buy it?" It seems like she might be handing it back to him, but instead she runs the warm end of the handle across his neck. "And you can take some time to consider your offer."
A little snort. "Not afraid, no. Certain, yes. You only want me to say it so you can laugh and tell me not today," Hal says, and he really was sure, and if there's any waver in it it's just the contact just there, and that nearness again. "I can't believe you'd come up here without even a quarter on you." Pause. "I'm not sure I can hold it without something in the way of a good-faith deposit. After all, you might not come back and I could lose a sale."
"What can I say? I didn't come out here to spend my money," Loe tells him with a quick, bright smile. "So I didn't bring any." She draws her hand back and holds both palms up and open -- or as open as that one can be with the pink folded razor held by her thumb. And aside from that razor, they are empty. Empty hands. Not a thing to offer in good faith. And so she lifts that one curious, challenging eyebrow and asks, "What did you have in mind?"
"I think," says Hal, after another one of those lengthy pauses that ought to have indicated deep consideration, "that you'd better hurry, then." One hand makes a little shooing motion, the other reaches to take the razor in question back out of her hand. "You never know who might amble by at any moment, but it's a slow day, so I think if you really get a move on, you should be able to get back in time. And exercise is good for you. Like breakfast."
Loe lets the razor slide from her hand into Halsten's, though she's reluctant to give it up. Whether or not he's likely to notice, given the temperature on the sun-steamed plateau, the handle is warm now, since she's been holding onto it all this time. "And so what about your friend with the furniture? Unless you're just interested in purveying furnishings in general. They've always struck me as somewhat bulky to transport but... I'd certainly be curious to see what you might turn up." However, she isn't dashing back to the Weyr for her money.
"He could be brought here. It would be simpler. More supervision. Which is what I did the last time I hired him." Halsten holds onto the razor, opening and closing it in his hands, then leaving it open the last time and turning it over so the sun can hit the blade. "Anything else would depend on if you want them all to match. If you want them to match, custom will be easier. I can almost never source large items in quantity pre-made." He looks up at her with eyebrows raised. "Well, what're you waiting for? Me to offer it to you on credit? Run along." Swift little walky fingers.
"I don't necessarily need it all to match. In fact, I'd like to make the three cottages different, so they each have their own feel. It might draw repeat visitors looking to experience one of the other cottages, I think. So there's really some flexibility in what we're going for. But we'll need some standard pieces of furniture..." And somewhere in the middle of thinking about this, Loe's momentum hitches, her expression goes troubled and her mouth stops moving. She stares at nothing for a few beats and then blinks at him. "Anyway, I'm really not sure the best way to go about it, but Nenita doesn't want me using things from the stores so..." And finally, she reacts to his obnoxious shooing by rolling her eyes. "Right. Because I chase away all your customers. All those people just dying to buy lots of egg cups. -- Listen, I might have another job for you, if you're interested. Could be some big money. Hold onto that razor for me, all right?" She flashes him a quick, wide smile, sunny and sly, and winks at him before she turns to leave him alone in his booth.
Halsten's brows furrow slightly at her troubled look, but as it passes, so does his almost-frown. "Flexibility. Absolutely. Well, then, I'll see what I can't find." He smiles at her. "I'm not trying to get rid of you. Sooner you go away, sooner you can come back, yes? And maybe I'll have an excellent line for you when you get back. Something that will actually work, no less. It's possible. Theoretically possible. So, go on."
"You can cling to that hope if you like," Loe tells him over her shoulder, giving him a good coy blink. "And to that blade. Can't hurt, right?" She does head off in the direction of the Weyr, but as the afternoon wears on, it seems she's not coming back. At least not today.