Log: Talk Down at the Sandbar
Who: P'draig, T'mic, X'lar, Iesia, Quenby
When: Early evening, 1/2/18
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Mic head over to the 'Bar for a meal and a drink and bump into X'lar who is happy to help taste-test. Talk about relationships merges into more casual conversation as Iesia and Quenby arrive and Paddy ultimately realizes that he knows Quenby and used to work for her mother when he was a Baker at Fort.
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)
A series of glows fashioned as torches line the path and ramp into the bar, making the black volcanic sands of the beach glitter as the star-spangled night spreads across the sky above. The Sandbar stands on stilts over the water's edge, a broad ramp leading up from the beach to the slate-roofed building sitting well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. The tables and chairs are made of wood, which has been dyed as dark as possible.
A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar's surface and a series of carved shelves, also made of the sleek volcanic stone, are behind the bar. A chalkboard hangs to the right of it which usually has the day's specials written on it, though it's often used to record bets instead. A games area and kitchen are to the back of the Sandbar.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a good, stiff breeze cools the Weyr.
The weyrmates follow Jekzith until he settles, then cut over to climb the steps to the Sandbar. It's a quiet night yet, still early, but Kip is behind the bar already. "Don't take too long," Mic warns P'draig with a laugh and a squeeze of his arm as he settles into the seat closest to the kitchen. "Kip's heard all my stories already."
P'draig laughs and squeezes Mic back. "You got it," he tells the greenrider, tosses a salute Kip's way and walks around the bar and into the kitchen where he putters around a little then gets to cooking. Shortly the scent of sauteeing fish permeates the air.
T'mic settles back into his seat, but a few minutes later, gets up to take the chair looking into the kitchen instead. "Just a juice - water, whatever," he tells Kip when the man saunters over to ask what he'll have. Kip's eyebrows go up but Mic only shrugs, offering a small smile as explanation.
X'lar appears as if by magic. Well, not really. The bronze rider looks to have been on his way to the Sandbar anyways. But that smell of sauteeing fish probably makes his pace quicken quite a bit. "I smell fish," Xie calls out, waving once to Kip before glancing back toward T'mic, nodding once politely to him. No words yet, the nod seems more than enough of a greeting for the greenrider.
Paddy starts singing as he cooks, adding a little bit of this and a little bit of that to the pan. Smells like maybe citrus or some other fruit. Onions? "Get me a beer in a sec, Kip?" he calls out to the 'keep. "After you've got Mic all taken care of." The brownrider leans back from the stove a litlte, waves his spatula X'lar's way. "Hey there X'lar, cooking up a bit of the salted catch, yep. Want to be a taste-tester?"
T'mic turns at the sound of the bronzerider's voice, offers a little wave and a, "Hey, X'lar," in return for the nod. Kip only shakes his head at the greenrider and wanders back to the bar, giving Paddy's order a thumb's up to show that he was heard. "There going to be enough of that to roll us both home, Paddy?" Mic tosses back into the kitchen with a tired but appreciative smile for the brownrider.
"Didn't know anyone used the kitchen aside from the kitchen staff," Xie offers, finally spotting Paddy. "But at least it's getting used." He smiles fondly at his investment for a moment before finally saying, "It looks like it's paying off, too." The rider glances once to T'mic then back to P'draig, nodding once to the older brownrider. "Sure," Xie replies easily. "I'd be happy to taste test for you, P'draig." He nods once more to the greenrider before Kip places a glass of reddish ale in front of him, the bartender apparently knowing Xie's usual drink.
"Plenty, Mic," Paddy assures and grins in friendly fashion at Kip, picking up another pan and doing something with it so that a new bevy of scents rises to join the fish. Coconut? "Sure, saves me trying to wheedle some space out of the kitchen folks," the brownrider says with a grin. "I'm helping Kip sort out the menu for down here a little. Or from another point of view, he's doing me a favor and little me get my cooking habit out of my system," Paddy jokes, voice raised enough to carry out of the kitchen area to the bar where the other two sit. Kip snorts from where he pours Mic's juice.
T'mic snorts too, then jerks his head toward the table and an open chair. "C'mon and sit?" he invites X'lar, eyes drifting past Kip to linger on P'draig again. "You wheedle plenty - or where'd you make those pastry things? Not down here, was it? Kip," he accuses, wagging a finger at the man who only rolls his eyes, "Are you slipping Paddy kitchen time and not telling me?"
"I guess that's a good deal," X'lar tells P'draig of the favours between brownrider and bartender. "It's pretty beneficial though. For everyone. Bar food's always cool, even if it gets pretty greasy from time to time." He grins briefly before calling out to the rider-cook, "It does smell fantastic though." At T'mic's invite, Xie grabs his drink and heads to join the greenrider. "Thanks, T'mic," X'lar offers.
"Yeahhh this is probably a little more high end than strictly 'bar food'," P'draig says with a laugh and flips over the fillets in the pan, lets them sit a moment then hits them up with the sauce, lets that sit a moment longer. Next he's turning around to get plates down, lining them up alongside the stovetop. "Yeah I did wheedle for those," he admits about the pastries and grins over at the two seated. Kip just simles and delivers Mic's juice, returns to the bar and catches up a fresh glass, pulls on the tap to fill it up with the same brew that X'lar just got for P'draig. "Just making sure everyone's happy," Kip says good-naturedly.
"I don't think I've ever eaten anything greasy from Paddy," Mic observes, pulling in his legs to let X'lar pass and then stretching them out again. "I don't think he knows -how- to make anything greasy." He eyes the brownrider mock-sourly but gives Kip a nod for the drink, digs in his pocket for a mark which he hands over before the 'tender retreats. "Speaking of happy... X'lar, you're keeping an eye on the Candidates, aren't you?"
"Given your experience," Xie tells Paddy, grinning. "I'm not surprised." He beams once at Kip, nodding once in response. Toward T'mic, X'lar nods again and replies, "Sure thing. Balinne too. It's kind of nice to have two people helping them out." He grins and lifts his drink, saluting the assistant weyrlingmaster as he tells him: "After all, with two people helping out, it gives me time to come here from time to time." After the salute, the bronzerider raises his glass to his mouth and takes a long sip of his ale.
"Nah, I know how to make greasy," P'draig calls over, nodding thanks as his beer is passed and he has a goodly swig before setting to plating the dish up. "Just choose not to most of the time," he says with a laugh and garnishes a first plate, passing it off to Kip. "Bring that to Mic, if you would? He's pretty hungry. X'lar's next and then I've got enough for a few tasters along the bar," he tells the barkeep who nods agreeably and bears that first plate out to the greenrider.
T'mic accuses, "Tease," but pushes up out of his slouch so at least he won't be using his chest for a table. "Like me and B'ryce," he answers X'lar, nodding thanks to Kip's delivery. Adds, "Shells," for no discernible reason and digs in like a starving man.
X'lar chuckles softly at Paddy's initial response regarding greasy food, making him nod and reply back easily, "That... doesn't surprise me either, P'draig." He chuckles at T'mic, nodding once before saying, "Exactly. Makes me wonder if I should consider wanting to be part of the weyrlingmaster staff." He grins once and looks back toward the kitchen. It almost looks as if the teen wants to say something to the rider busy in the kitchen, but he instead simply takes another drink of his ale.
"Are you thinking about it, X'lar?" The brownrider queries from the kitchen passing off another plate to Kip for the bronzerider and then getting to work putting together the smaller portions for the other barflies. It doesn't take long for Paddy to finish up and he cleans up the area a little, putting his tools in the sink and swiping down the counter. He grabs one of the smaller plates for himself and his beer and comes to join the pair at the table while Kip continues passing out food. "Here we go. Salt-fish in sweet coconut sauce over Istan vegetables with some rivergrains." He settles down and grins over at X'lar. "Candidates did a decent job gutting the catch."
"They did," X'lar replies with a brief smile. "They did a pretty good job with the gutting." He glances toward the fish and digs in as well. There's a few noises from the bronzerider, a sure sign he's enjoying the food cooked by the brownrider. "Excellent," the teen tells Paddy as he returns to the table. "And I don't know," Xie comments. "Not sure if I would make a very good one. It's one thing to help candidates, it's another to help weyrlings." He chuckles softly before admitting, "I still have a fear of responsbility from time to time."
"I was petrified when they handed me that Weyrlingmaster's knot the turn I started," P'draig states around a bite of the fish. He chews thoughtfully and nods. "Pretty good, probably need to soak the fish a little longer to balance the saltiness and the sweetness, but I think this works." He has another swig of his beer and considers X'lar for a moment. "Best way sometimes to get over that kind of fear ... jsut wade in."
"Just wade in, huh?" Xie asks the brownrider, nodding slowly. "That makes sense." After another few moments of silent thought, the bronzerider quickly resumes eating the fish, no matter how salty or sweet it might be. After all, it's food, and Xie never says no to food.
T'mic surfaces from the last of his fish-with-stuff, wipes his mouth with the back of one hand and considers X'lar. "I started doing it - asked Fadra if I could - so I could be there for other weyrlings like me. Now... don't know if I can see me -not- doing it. Today, though... you remember T'riu? Skinny short kid, about fifteen, Impressed Esiteth, that pretty blue?" He pauses only long enough to wrap his fingers around his glass. "Something happened today - tripped, fell, something - and the Healers aren't sure what'll happen to his leg. Said it could be 'just' a bad sprain or something else. Might walk with a cane from now on."
"Ouch," X'lar replies, wincing at T'riu's fate. "That sounds terrible. I mean, it's not as bad as being caught in between, but still. Sorry to hear that happened." He shakes his head, sympathetic, finally concluding: "That really sucks." He too wipes his mouth, soon after T'mic, perhaps reminded that he's got company and that he has to show some kind of manners.
"Mm, specially if there's a good Weyrlingmaster to learn from," P'draig says around another bite of food. He listens as Mic speaks nodding. "I think that's probably the toughest part of the job, maybe. You get to caring a lot about how the kids turn out. And when things go bad ... it's hard." The brownrider's voice is quiet there and he tenders X'lar a wry smile.
T'mic nods and frowns at his juice. "Yeah. They'll know more in a couple of days when the swelling goes down." Isn't that a comforting thought? "B'ryce's got him back in the barracks tonight so Esiteth doesn't fret too much. That couch near the door, remember? But I'm not drinking tonight," his glass is hefted by way of demonstration, "in case he needs me." That doesn't stop the greenrider from tossing back a swallow of the orange stuff as though it were whiskey.
X'lar looks to the much, much older men for a moment. The rider stares at his ale for a moment before nodding again, including both of the weyrmates in agreement of what they say to him. "I get that caring. I mean, candidacy was /huge/ for me, so I'm trying to give the candidates the same kind of amazing experience I had. I mean... that's when I realized just how big the world was... and even then..." He chuckles once before going on to admit, "Even then it wasn't until I hit weyrlinghood when I realized my scope was small even as a candidate." He smiles once before telling T'mic, "Don't know if anyone from my group ever said it, but you were a great teacher, T'mic. For me."
"Almost an irony in that. Become a rider in the Interval, bust your leg as a Weyrling." P'draig sighs a little and turns his glass to and fro, expression mildly bleak for a moment. "Yeah, I remember. Had similar set up at Fort," he points out. The cot. In his office with the door open on the Barracks. He smiles for X'lar's compliment to T'mic, turns his glass again. "At least, other than Between accidents, we can hope that most of this group will make it through Weyrlinghood and won't be dying straight out of it in Threadfall."
Mic drawls, "They say we have dangerous lives; don't think they meant tripping over your own dragon," and runs a finger around the rim of his glass as he eyes X'lar. "--Thanks," he offers eventually. "I try. If it hadn't been for -my- teachers I'd still be jumping to every tune Aath played. I don't..." He struggles with words for a moment, gives up with a shrug and drops Paddy a nod. "Yeah. I'm surprised more weyrlingmasters don't drink heavily, actually. Or maybe you only start doing that after you lose too many of 'em."
Yeah," X'lar notes of weyrlings dying right out of weyrlinghood in Threadfall. "Like R'gan." Bleak indeed. The bronzerider just shakes his head and sighs, "This is no good. We shouldn't be talking so morbidly after such a good fish." He gives both men a brief but very much genuine grin. "Do you two normally get along this well?" he asks, grinning further. "I mean, it seems like you two are the perfect couple." He pauses before growing thoughtful for a moment, "Though... Then again, you're not exactly a traditional couple if Paige is also involved." He shrugs once, not seeming to mind that thought. Finally he speaks up again and says: "You two look to be in a relationship that's as stable as a relationship /can/ be being riders." Satisfied with his comment, he takes another drink from his ale, nearly half-full now.
"How do you think I built up my tolerance," P'draig tells T'mic, eyes a little sad, face a little wry. Another forkful of fish with sauce goes into his mouth. "And yeah, good thing about the separation, teaching it. Balinne, right?" Paddy says with a nod then looks back over at X'lar. "I lost ... a bunch during the first turns of the Comet Pass." He takes a breath, takes a drink of his beer and laughs at X'lar's question sneaks a look over at Mic. "Yeah. Pretty much. I mean, how we work it doesn't work for everyone, but we just ... fit. No jealousy. No insecurity."
T'mic's eyes are sympathetic as he looks across the table at his lover, but what he says is a forcedly light, "So I've got lots to catch up on." He adds a nod for Balinne's name then quirks a smile at X'lar's comment. "Speak for yourself," he teases. "I'm plenty jealous." More seriously, and to the younger man, "Thanks. It's... we both know what we want, I guess, and we aren't afraid to ask for it. And...," he's gotten back into heavy-thinking territory now, and the going is slow. "I know if he wants something, it's not anything about me. Nothing I did wrong. If that makes sense?"
Under the table, T'mic's foot bumps into the brownrider's, then tucks comfortingly around his ankle.
X'lar chuckles softly in response to Paddy's latter response and T'mic's retort, nodding once. But, as T'mic's words are slow to form into coherence, X'lar is patient for once to listen, to absorb the greenrider's words. "I think it makes sense, T'mic," X'lar tells him. "In fact, that makes a whole damned lot of sense to me. I think I mentioned this to P'draig once, but I admire what you and he have. It really is an amazing thing to find that kind of balance in life with someone."
P'draig looks up across at T'mic and smiles warmly. "Mm. I've -- been in and out of more than one relationship I thought was going to last," the brownrider says quietly. "This is ... different." And he winks T'mic's way, puts another forkful of food into his mouth, chews. "Being unafraid to speak up, I think that's the biggest difference. I don't think there's anything I could say that would really send Mic running and yeah, if either of us is into someone else, it doesn't take anything away from him and me."
Under the table, P'draig's foot curls in return, moving up a little then dropping back down, leaving them joined at the ankle.
T'mic gathers his glass to him, fingers resting lightly on the sides, and considers X'lar and P'draig in turn. "Thanks," he says again, shrugs one shoulder. "It's... I couldn't've done this, ten turns ago. Took a lot of time, took a few bumps for me to figure things out. Used to be weyrmated to Seliene," he adds, as though this should explain all, and flashes another grin at the brownrider. "Question is, am I supposed to be running -away-, or running -to-? You say plenty that has me running -to-."
"That's... kind of amazing," X'lar says. "And I like I told P'draig one night, /that/... the fact that you two know one another so well as to have that much understanding of one another... /that/ gives me hope for my own future of relationships. Relationship." At T'mic's words, however, Xie blinks a few times in surprise. "/Seliene?/" he asks, shocked. "Wow. I didn't know that." He grunts after another sip of his ale, voicing whatever conclusion his head came up with: "We all make stupid mistakes."
P'draig nods along with what Mic says. "Yeah, same here, bumps," he agrees and then he's laughing at Mic's quip. "Well you know I always /hope/ for to. But I meant, running away. I don't think there's anything I could do to put you off except tell you bunches of mean things and well, I have no reason to at all." He looks over at X'lar, grinning. "Mm. Seliene. For a while she and I had a little something going on too. We're still friends. His fork wanders through his plate collecting bits of sauce-on-fish. "All I can say, Xie, is try to be patient, listen lots, and try not to take a lot of things personally. Especially from a woman. Y'know. If woman are your only speed."
"Even if they're not," the greenrider puts in, then gives the bronzerider a tilt of his head. "Tell me you didn't just call Seliene a stupid mistake?" It's hard to tell if he's joking or not - his voice is light, but his gaze oddly intense.
"I had a crush on T'mic when I was 15 or something," Xie admits openly. "He has that kind of personality, I guess." X'lar almost speaks as if the greenrider weren't even in the dockside tavern with them. "But, to be honest, guys have never really... to use a phrase my dragon uses, 'made me itch as much' as women." He chuckles softly before going on to say, "I'm trying. To be patient. Listening's pretty hard when you talk as much as I do, but I'm trying harder with that." At T'mic's last statement, he shakes his head, saying, "I was thinking more about me than you, T'mic. I don't know Seliene well enough to even consider saying something like that."
"Can't say I disagree about Mic's personality," P'draig says with twinkling eyes, looking over at his weyrmate. "I mean, I wasn't really ... all that open to men until he came along, helped me get over one of those bumps," the brownrider says candidly. His hand curls around his glass of ale, draws it close and he takes a long sip, swallows, wiping off the little bit of foam with the back of his hand. "Sel's a lovely lady. Just wanted something a little different from what either Mic or I had in mind," he says mildly, nodding at X'lar's last.
"You know," T'mic points out, eyeing the two men again with an amused little half-smile, "I am right here. You can talk -to- me any time you'd like." He takes another drink of his juice, though this time it's a small swallow, and tells X'lar, "Sounded like you were talking about me and Seli, not you and whoever," before dropping P'draig another nod. "Which reminds me - Miara said she'd be happy to have any of Palia's stuff back you wanted to give her."
X'lar nods once to P'draig, chuckling softly as he replies back in response: "You're quite biased though, P'draig." He shrugs once before going on to admit, "That's never really been a... bump for me. Being with one person and wanting to be with other people too... That's a bump. But I'm not really sure I can help that aside from just not submitting to temptation." He shrugs once to T'mic, grinning back at him, saying, "Well, maybe I was /partly/ talking about you and Seli, but in the nicest possible way. Really."
There's only a grin for Mic as he makes that statement and he pops that last bite of fish into his mouth, has another drink of ale. "Well. Depends on if that's what you and whomever you're with wants. Not everyone wants a 'you and me only' relationship," he points out to X'lar. His gaze shifts back to T'mic and he nods. "Sure, can do. I'll pack all that stuff up -- tomorrow afternoon." There's something wicked in the way he looks at Mic briefly. "She's getting pretty close now. Must be pretty uncomfortable. Just the two months left, right?"
T'mic has a confused frown for the bronzerider, echoes, "Temptation?" like in a foreign language. He glances for Paddy for help in translating and nods, expression smoothing. "Oh - yeah, that. Well, if you want to sleep around and she doesn't want you to, that's a problem. But you have to ask if that's it, yeah? Don't make assumptions, or it'll come back to bite you." Speaking of biting - he narrows his eyes at the brownrider in mock-affront. "Flamed if I know. Uh... sixth month. And yesterday was turnover, so... yeah, guess it's only a couple months left."
"I honestly..." Xie begins, frowning with thought. "You know I just assumed that's what ... that someone wanted. Exclusivity." He shrugs once before going on to say, "But with me here, and her there... And me focusing on the candidates..." He trails off and rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I guess I'll talk to her about it at some point when neither of us are so busy." He looks between Paddy and T'mic curiously as their other conversation rolls right over his head. He and other two men are sitting at a table in the bar, T'mic with juice, Xie and Paddy with ales, fish nearly picked apart on plates in front of them.
"Yes. Definitely /talk/ about it," P'draig nods vigorously from his seat across from T'mic and next to X'lar, an empty plate in front of him and a half-full glass near at hand. "Assuming is just -- bad. Don't assume. Ask. Make things clear. Never leave it in the dark. It's better to have an awkward conversation about something and be on the same page when it's over than to both be kind of ... assuming things and not being right and miserable," Paddy says with a wry little grin. "Yeah, two and a half months," P'draig does a little mental arithmetic. "T'mic's about to be a father again," he explains for that blank look of X'lar's. "He knocked up Palia's old nanny." Which just proves up most of what they were both saying earlier.
Redwort, numbweed, liniment and other such medicinal smells that normal people seem to shy away from cling to Iesia like perfume. That's just what happens when you spend nine hours in the Infirmary. She seems not to notice such things, nor the fact that her arms are stained red from the elbow down. Hair pulled back, shirt-sleeves rolled, she saunters through the Sandbar without a backwards glance. And right up to the bar.
The greenrider looks curiously at X'lar but doesn't press him for an explanation. "S'what Seli and I did - made some assumptions." He shrugs again, glances away to catch sight of Iesia and watches her as he continues, "Didn't work out. Paddy and her brother took me for a little swim once 'cause of it." He gives Paddy a grimace and eyeroll before nodding at the Healer bellied up to the bar. "That's the one who helped T'riu. The one with the blue eyes."
X'lar blinks in surprise at Paddy's revelation. Or at least information. "Wow," X'lar comments. "That... is impressive." But then he quickly returns to the topic of talking and Xie replies back, "That... sounds like pretty good advice to me, P'draig. Thanks." At the sight of Iesia arriving, Xie smirks and mutters, "Talking about temptation..." He takes another quick drink from his glass of ale and calls out to the healer at the bar, "Evening 'sia." He glances to T'mic as he comments on the former Igenite. "That's Iesia. She's good at what she does."
"Mic's sixth kid," P'draig says with a hint of mirth on his face, clearly unbothered by this turn of events. "And he's never going to let me forget that," he says finger-wagging at Mic. "We were all drunk as all get out, just so you know," he tells X'lar with a grin then he too is tracking Iesia. "Yeah, we've all met." He nods politely Iesia's way from his seat at the table near the bar, with Mic across from him, X'lar to one side and one vacant chair on his other side. There's empty plates on the table, and Paddy and X'lar both have half-full ale glasses, while Mic seems to be quaffing something orange.
Something strong-looking. That's what Iesia ends up with. And she's just about to take it when her name, of a sort, is called. Her head turns, her glass is taken, and she glances towards the group from whence she was hailed. "Ah. X'lar," and hesitates briefly, a wary glance towards the pair of rider's with him, but eventually makes her way over and drops into a free chair. T'mic is given a scrutinizing look before she lifts her glass and takes a sip.
Into the bar strolls a younger woman. Quenby covers a quick yawn that jumps to her lips as she brushes black hair back from her face. The bar doesn't seem to full and she heads up to talk to talk to the bartender in low voices. He nods quickly at some request and winks to the young woman before heading to the back. The man come back to where she stands and hands over a half full brown bag. Slinging it over her shoulder she orders an ale then and leans with her back to the bar, just people watching.
"It's not my sixth!" the greenrider protests, then has to stop and count on his fingers. Four, five... and a thumb. Six. Darn. "Which reminds me," he adds to Paddy, "I've got to ask Kip about 'Solla. Remind me before we go?" He has more of his juice as Iesia approaches, unabashedly watching her walk, and stops only as she drops into the chair beside him. "Evening, Healer. B'ryce says T'riu's all settled in - going to keep him in bed until at least noon tomorrow, then let him walk around a bit if he's feeling up to it." With his back to the main bar, he misses Quenby's entrance entirely.
X'lar spots Quenby too while he looks at Iesia as she walks toward the table and sits down with Paddy, T'mic and he. "How're you tonight, 'sia?" X'lar asks the healer, smiling briefly at her. He grins, however, as his attention is taken by T'mic counting his hands. "Six kids," he tells the greenrider. "Wow."
There's a frown at the mention of T'riu, and Iesia looks ready to protest something. She decides against it, shrugs, and simply says, "He should have crutches, to stay off that knee." And then another sip, a sigh, and Iesia slouches in her seat. An eyebrow is arched at X'lar. "Sticky," she decides, pinching the front of her tunic for emphasis. Humidity. And then another eyebrow arch for T'mic, and a wrinkling of her nose. "Six? Children?" Grimace. "Not from the same mother...?"
"It --" P'draig starts but then stops, grinning at T'mic. "Right." And that look is fond indeed. There's no recrimination on his face for Iesia and there's even a welcoming smile as she claims that chair. "Sounds like you've had a busy day," he says in a friendly manner to the healer, then quiets down as T'mic explains about T'riu.
Quenby looks over and spots the cook-rider she met before. Not seeing anyone else she has had a chance to meet she heads over towards his table. Not really nervous but cautiously she says, "Hello again." Holding the ale she looks at the people spread about the table and a smile spreads upon her face brightly with nervousness now ensuing.
"I'll make sure B'ryce knows," the greenrider says easily, settling back into his chair. "About the crutches, I mean. And shells no, none of them have the same mother. There's, uh...," he spreads one hand for easier counting, pauses to aside to P'draig, "--And no helping! Tosolla, Tomella, Tiisa..." Which is when Quenby arrives and he stops to give her a quick once-over and a grin. "Hello yourself. Mic, Aath's." He continues around the table pointing and giving names (P'draig, Jekzith's, X'lar, Malsaeth's, Journeywoman Iesia) before ending up with an inquisitive finger aimed at the newcomer.
X'lar stays quiet for the time being, listening to the others talk instead. For the time being, the bronze rider attempts at being patient and attentive to the conversation, leaning against his chair as he drinks his ale. As he's introduced, X'lar lifts a hand to greet Quenby, smiling even in return.
A roll of her eyes, but Iesia turns to glance at Quenby as well. No greeting, just a simple shrug of her shoulder at the mention of her name. A sigh at T'mic. "I really... don't need to know all of their names, thanks? It seems a bit late to warn them." Or were those children's names? Iesia just shrugs again, and lifts her drink. For X'lar's silence, he gets an arched eyebrow of his own, and a somewhat amused expression. "Yes," she tells P'draig finally, "Mostly routine, a few kitchen cuts, a few dehydration cases, though Ista seems to have far fewer than Igen..."
P'draig opens his mouth to assist with the naming, then subsides, grinning over at Mic and lifting innocent hands. Instead he starts to collect empty plates to take back to the kitchen, while T'mic continues. He bobs his head Quenby's way then retreats back behind the bar with the stack of empty crockery. His beer goes with him, finished on the way and the glass left behind in the sink. Upon his return, he doesn't sit again, but leans both hands down on the back of his former chair. "Busy but routine, sounds livable?" he queries of Iesia, manner still friendly.
Quenby smiles back at greenrider and the introductions, "I'm um...Quenby." She finnally spits out. "A cook." She adds half heartedly. Looking to the empty seat she asks, "Mind if I join you?" She waits behind said chair and looks towards the other woman, "Oh you're the new healer here?" Her grin widens.
X'lar arches his own eyebrows back at Iesia. Not one but both, apparently never having learned how to be able to arch just one brow. He gives Quenby a brief look before smiling once more at her. "A /cook/," he tells her. "The world always needs more cooks!"
"Well met, Quenby," the greenrider says once the name's been provided, and finishes up despite Iesia's protests, "Jolemic - he's Tiisa's half-brother - and Tolian. And then whatever Miara decides to name hers." That's five full fingers counted off and the lone thumb waggles for Miara's unborn. Eyebrows go up at Paddy's clearing and he hastens to toss back the last of his juice and push back his chair. "We heading out, babe? --Sure, go ahead," he adds to Quenby, despite the fact that he might be inviting and running.
A bland look for 'livable'. Iesia just shrugs another shoulder and decides, "Perhaps." Her drink is nursed for a while, slow sips taken as she draws it out. A smirk, for X'lar, and then her attention is drawn to Quenby. Her head doesn't move, but her eyes roll up until she's found the self-proclaimed cook. Iesia's lips purse, a calculating study is given, and she finally says, "Yes. I am." The new Healer. And then, "Cook, you say? Perhaps you can tell me why your kitchen seems to lack the herbs required to make a properly spicy dish?"
Quenby nods her head and takes the seat after the invitation. Plopping the bag onto the table she grins even wider at Iesia's question, "Because I've only been here for 2 sevendays ma'am and just finally got my ma's requested herbs from Fort." She inticates the bag excitablly, "Just to test a few things out with the folks here and the headwoman before we can order some more." She takes a sip of her ale though she acts like a 6 turn old with a new pet.
Quenby's statement of occupation brings a grin to P'draig's face and he reaches across to offer his palm. "A cook huh? Used to be a Baker myself," he says then casts Iesia a quizzical look. "Not spicy enough, at Ista? And why Fort?" he looks over at Quenby again, perplexed. "Fort's got a much blander palate than Ista, plenty of great peppers down here. But if it's spicy you want Iesia, have a word with Kip, he's figuring out the menu for the Sandbar now it's got it's own kitchen." He flashes both women a grin then pushes upright and nods Mic's way. "Yeah, you were tired - but go ask Kip about Tosolla first, yeah?"
The greenrider stands and collects his glass, giving the rest of the table a beam. "Yeah, thanks. G'night - nice meeting you, Quenby. You and Paddy can wrangle about food some time, but not tonight. I'm dragging him off." There's another flash of smile before Mic wanders bar-ward, hailing Kip and engaging him in a short conversation. The 'keep shrugs once, nods and points over at the docks, leaving Mic frowning in puzzlement.
"I think I'm headed off as well," X'lar admits, getting up after finishing off his glass of ale. "I need to check in on the candidates before curfew." The bronze rider smiles once to Quenby, nodding to her briefly before saying, "Nice meeting you." And to Iesia he merely smirks back at the healer and tells her: "See you soon, 'sia." He drops a the necessary currency for his ale before finally making his way out of the dockside tavern. "And good night to you and Paddy, T'mic, and thanks again for the fish!" And with that, his steps fade away as he passes the threshold and walks onto the pathway toward the beach.
Quenby ohs and shrugs at P'draig, "Oh I heard you were a cook and a rider sir." The young woman takes the offered hand and shakes it quickly. To explain herself she adds, "Oh me and my family are from Fort Weyr. My mom has a few things she was working on there but hasn't had the chance until now to start on any of her recipes here yet. I don't know why Fort. Maybe I could pick you're brain on people to get things from here?" She bites her lip and pushes hair back from her eyes again.
Her glass is raised at the departing riders, and suddenly Iesia is left with the foreign Cook. And not looking terribly pleased. She eyes Quenby from her seat, glass raised and ready to be sipped from. Eventually, Iesia does just that, and takes a lengthy swallow. "Why cook?" she wants to know, rather interrogation-style.
P'draig gives Quenby a long searching look, then blinks and snaps his fingers. "Oh shells, you're Journeyman Senby's girl, aren't you?" He laughs a little, makes a wry face. "I remember you hanging around the kitchens now and then when you were younger. And uh -- sure, look up Idraila for plants and things and --" there's Mic looking all befuddled towards the docks. "I'll catch up with you sometime, okay? Need to sort this out with Mic," Paddy states, smiling again and gives a little wave. "Good evening X'lar, as he heads out, Iesia." And he retreats back to the bar and loops an arm through T'mic's leans in to find out what's going on, then tilts his head towards the door. Time to go.
Quenby chuckles and shakes her head at P'draig, "And her I was hoping no one would remember me from that age." She waves a hand to the other two departers and looks towards the woman she is left with, "I love the art behind it." She starts to answer, "I'm not a good dancer or drawer but I love the music a dish can make." She asks back, "Why be a healer?"
T'mic turns from the bar still sporting that frown, an expression that lightens only fractionally at Paddy's approach. "Says it was," he mutters into the other man's ear, his lips still moving as they head toward the door though his words get lost in the hubbub of a party of dockworkers just now entering. The pair make their way outside and onto the beach, the door swinging shut behind them.
When: Early evening, 1/2/18
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Mic head over to the 'Bar for a meal and a drink and bump into X'lar who is happy to help taste-test. Talk about relationships merges into more casual conversation as Iesia and Quenby arrive and Paddy ultimately realizes that he knows Quenby and used to work for her mother when he was a Baker at Fort.
The Sandbar, Ista Weyr(#447RJ)
A series of glows fashioned as torches line the path and ramp into the bar, making the black volcanic sands of the beach glitter as the star-spangled night spreads across the sky above. The Sandbar stands on stilts over the water's edge, a broad ramp leading up from the beach to the slate-roofed building sitting well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. The tables and chairs are made of wood, which has been dyed as dark as possible.
A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar's surface and a series of carved shelves, also made of the sleek volcanic stone, are behind the bar. A chalkboard hangs to the right of it which usually has the day's specials written on it, though it's often used to record bets instead. A games area and kitchen are to the back of the Sandbar.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a good, stiff breeze cools the Weyr.
The weyrmates follow Jekzith until he settles, then cut over to climb the steps to the Sandbar. It's a quiet night yet, still early, but Kip is behind the bar already. "Don't take too long," Mic warns P'draig with a laugh and a squeeze of his arm as he settles into the seat closest to the kitchen. "Kip's heard all my stories already."
P'draig laughs and squeezes Mic back. "You got it," he tells the greenrider, tosses a salute Kip's way and walks around the bar and into the kitchen where he putters around a little then gets to cooking. Shortly the scent of sauteeing fish permeates the air.
T'mic settles back into his seat, but a few minutes later, gets up to take the chair looking into the kitchen instead. "Just a juice - water, whatever," he tells Kip when the man saunters over to ask what he'll have. Kip's eyebrows go up but Mic only shrugs, offering a small smile as explanation.
X'lar appears as if by magic. Well, not really. The bronze rider looks to have been on his way to the Sandbar anyways. But that smell of sauteeing fish probably makes his pace quicken quite a bit. "I smell fish," Xie calls out, waving once to Kip before glancing back toward T'mic, nodding once politely to him. No words yet, the nod seems more than enough of a greeting for the greenrider.
Paddy starts singing as he cooks, adding a little bit of this and a little bit of that to the pan. Smells like maybe citrus or some other fruit. Onions? "Get me a beer in a sec, Kip?" he calls out to the 'keep. "After you've got Mic all taken care of." The brownrider leans back from the stove a litlte, waves his spatula X'lar's way. "Hey there X'lar, cooking up a bit of the salted catch, yep. Want to be a taste-tester?"
T'mic turns at the sound of the bronzerider's voice, offers a little wave and a, "Hey, X'lar," in return for the nod. Kip only shakes his head at the greenrider and wanders back to the bar, giving Paddy's order a thumb's up to show that he was heard. "There going to be enough of that to roll us both home, Paddy?" Mic tosses back into the kitchen with a tired but appreciative smile for the brownrider.
"Didn't know anyone used the kitchen aside from the kitchen staff," Xie offers, finally spotting Paddy. "But at least it's getting used." He smiles fondly at his investment for a moment before finally saying, "It looks like it's paying off, too." The rider glances once to T'mic then back to P'draig, nodding once to the older brownrider. "Sure," Xie replies easily. "I'd be happy to taste test for you, P'draig." He nods once more to the greenrider before Kip places a glass of reddish ale in front of him, the bartender apparently knowing Xie's usual drink.
"Plenty, Mic," Paddy assures and grins in friendly fashion at Kip, picking up another pan and doing something with it so that a new bevy of scents rises to join the fish. Coconut? "Sure, saves me trying to wheedle some space out of the kitchen folks," the brownrider says with a grin. "I'm helping Kip sort out the menu for down here a little. Or from another point of view, he's doing me a favor and little me get my cooking habit out of my system," Paddy jokes, voice raised enough to carry out of the kitchen area to the bar where the other two sit. Kip snorts from where he pours Mic's juice.
T'mic snorts too, then jerks his head toward the table and an open chair. "C'mon and sit?" he invites X'lar, eyes drifting past Kip to linger on P'draig again. "You wheedle plenty - or where'd you make those pastry things? Not down here, was it? Kip," he accuses, wagging a finger at the man who only rolls his eyes, "Are you slipping Paddy kitchen time and not telling me?"
"I guess that's a good deal," X'lar tells P'draig of the favours between brownrider and bartender. "It's pretty beneficial though. For everyone. Bar food's always cool, even if it gets pretty greasy from time to time." He grins briefly before calling out to the rider-cook, "It does smell fantastic though." At T'mic's invite, Xie grabs his drink and heads to join the greenrider. "Thanks, T'mic," X'lar offers.
"Yeahhh this is probably a little more high end than strictly 'bar food'," P'draig says with a laugh and flips over the fillets in the pan, lets them sit a moment then hits them up with the sauce, lets that sit a moment longer. Next he's turning around to get plates down, lining them up alongside the stovetop. "Yeah I did wheedle for those," he admits about the pastries and grins over at the two seated. Kip just simles and delivers Mic's juice, returns to the bar and catches up a fresh glass, pulls on the tap to fill it up with the same brew that X'lar just got for P'draig. "Just making sure everyone's happy," Kip says good-naturedly.
"I don't think I've ever eaten anything greasy from Paddy," Mic observes, pulling in his legs to let X'lar pass and then stretching them out again. "I don't think he knows -how- to make anything greasy." He eyes the brownrider mock-sourly but gives Kip a nod for the drink, digs in his pocket for a mark which he hands over before the 'tender retreats. "Speaking of happy... X'lar, you're keeping an eye on the Candidates, aren't you?"
"Given your experience," Xie tells Paddy, grinning. "I'm not surprised." He beams once at Kip, nodding once in response. Toward T'mic, X'lar nods again and replies, "Sure thing. Balinne too. It's kind of nice to have two people helping them out." He grins and lifts his drink, saluting the assistant weyrlingmaster as he tells him: "After all, with two people helping out, it gives me time to come here from time to time." After the salute, the bronzerider raises his glass to his mouth and takes a long sip of his ale.
"Nah, I know how to make greasy," P'draig calls over, nodding thanks as his beer is passed and he has a goodly swig before setting to plating the dish up. "Just choose not to most of the time," he says with a laugh and garnishes a first plate, passing it off to Kip. "Bring that to Mic, if you would? He's pretty hungry. X'lar's next and then I've got enough for a few tasters along the bar," he tells the barkeep who nods agreeably and bears that first plate out to the greenrider.
T'mic accuses, "Tease," but pushes up out of his slouch so at least he won't be using his chest for a table. "Like me and B'ryce," he answers X'lar, nodding thanks to Kip's delivery. Adds, "Shells," for no discernible reason and digs in like a starving man.
X'lar chuckles softly at Paddy's initial response regarding greasy food, making him nod and reply back easily, "That... doesn't surprise me either, P'draig." He chuckles at T'mic, nodding once before saying, "Exactly. Makes me wonder if I should consider wanting to be part of the weyrlingmaster staff." He grins once and looks back toward the kitchen. It almost looks as if the teen wants to say something to the rider busy in the kitchen, but he instead simply takes another drink of his ale.
"Are you thinking about it, X'lar?" The brownrider queries from the kitchen passing off another plate to Kip for the bronzerider and then getting to work putting together the smaller portions for the other barflies. It doesn't take long for Paddy to finish up and he cleans up the area a little, putting his tools in the sink and swiping down the counter. He grabs one of the smaller plates for himself and his beer and comes to join the pair at the table while Kip continues passing out food. "Here we go. Salt-fish in sweet coconut sauce over Istan vegetables with some rivergrains." He settles down and grins over at X'lar. "Candidates did a decent job gutting the catch."
"They did," X'lar replies with a brief smile. "They did a pretty good job with the gutting." He glances toward the fish and digs in as well. There's a few noises from the bronzerider, a sure sign he's enjoying the food cooked by the brownrider. "Excellent," the teen tells Paddy as he returns to the table. "And I don't know," Xie comments. "Not sure if I would make a very good one. It's one thing to help candidates, it's another to help weyrlings." He chuckles softly before admitting, "I still have a fear of responsbility from time to time."
"I was petrified when they handed me that Weyrlingmaster's knot the turn I started," P'draig states around a bite of the fish. He chews thoughtfully and nods. "Pretty good, probably need to soak the fish a little longer to balance the saltiness and the sweetness, but I think this works." He has another swig of his beer and considers X'lar for a moment. "Best way sometimes to get over that kind of fear ... jsut wade in."
"Just wade in, huh?" Xie asks the brownrider, nodding slowly. "That makes sense." After another few moments of silent thought, the bronzerider quickly resumes eating the fish, no matter how salty or sweet it might be. After all, it's food, and Xie never says no to food.
T'mic surfaces from the last of his fish-with-stuff, wipes his mouth with the back of one hand and considers X'lar. "I started doing it - asked Fadra if I could - so I could be there for other weyrlings like me. Now... don't know if I can see me -not- doing it. Today, though... you remember T'riu? Skinny short kid, about fifteen, Impressed Esiteth, that pretty blue?" He pauses only long enough to wrap his fingers around his glass. "Something happened today - tripped, fell, something - and the Healers aren't sure what'll happen to his leg. Said it could be 'just' a bad sprain or something else. Might walk with a cane from now on."
"Ouch," X'lar replies, wincing at T'riu's fate. "That sounds terrible. I mean, it's not as bad as being caught in between, but still. Sorry to hear that happened." He shakes his head, sympathetic, finally concluding: "That really sucks." He too wipes his mouth, soon after T'mic, perhaps reminded that he's got company and that he has to show some kind of manners.
"Mm, specially if there's a good Weyrlingmaster to learn from," P'draig says around another bite of food. He listens as Mic speaks nodding. "I think that's probably the toughest part of the job, maybe. You get to caring a lot about how the kids turn out. And when things go bad ... it's hard." The brownrider's voice is quiet there and he tenders X'lar a wry smile.
T'mic nods and frowns at his juice. "Yeah. They'll know more in a couple of days when the swelling goes down." Isn't that a comforting thought? "B'ryce's got him back in the barracks tonight so Esiteth doesn't fret too much. That couch near the door, remember? But I'm not drinking tonight," his glass is hefted by way of demonstration, "in case he needs me." That doesn't stop the greenrider from tossing back a swallow of the orange stuff as though it were whiskey.
X'lar looks to the much, much older men for a moment. The rider stares at his ale for a moment before nodding again, including both of the weyrmates in agreement of what they say to him. "I get that caring. I mean, candidacy was /huge/ for me, so I'm trying to give the candidates the same kind of amazing experience I had. I mean... that's when I realized just how big the world was... and even then..." He chuckles once before going on to admit, "Even then it wasn't until I hit weyrlinghood when I realized my scope was small even as a candidate." He smiles once before telling T'mic, "Don't know if anyone from my group ever said it, but you were a great teacher, T'mic. For me."
"Almost an irony in that. Become a rider in the Interval, bust your leg as a Weyrling." P'draig sighs a little and turns his glass to and fro, expression mildly bleak for a moment. "Yeah, I remember. Had similar set up at Fort," he points out. The cot. In his office with the door open on the Barracks. He smiles for X'lar's compliment to T'mic, turns his glass again. "At least, other than Between accidents, we can hope that most of this group will make it through Weyrlinghood and won't be dying straight out of it in Threadfall."
Mic drawls, "They say we have dangerous lives; don't think they meant tripping over your own dragon," and runs a finger around the rim of his glass as he eyes X'lar. "--Thanks," he offers eventually. "I try. If it hadn't been for -my- teachers I'd still be jumping to every tune Aath played. I don't..." He struggles with words for a moment, gives up with a shrug and drops Paddy a nod. "Yeah. I'm surprised more weyrlingmasters don't drink heavily, actually. Or maybe you only start doing that after you lose too many of 'em."
Yeah," X'lar notes of weyrlings dying right out of weyrlinghood in Threadfall. "Like R'gan." Bleak indeed. The bronzerider just shakes his head and sighs, "This is no good. We shouldn't be talking so morbidly after such a good fish." He gives both men a brief but very much genuine grin. "Do you two normally get along this well?" he asks, grinning further. "I mean, it seems like you two are the perfect couple." He pauses before growing thoughtful for a moment, "Though... Then again, you're not exactly a traditional couple if Paige is also involved." He shrugs once, not seeming to mind that thought. Finally he speaks up again and says: "You two look to be in a relationship that's as stable as a relationship /can/ be being riders." Satisfied with his comment, he takes another drink from his ale, nearly half-full now.
"How do you think I built up my tolerance," P'draig tells T'mic, eyes a little sad, face a little wry. Another forkful of fish with sauce goes into his mouth. "And yeah, good thing about the separation, teaching it. Balinne, right?" Paddy says with a nod then looks back over at X'lar. "I lost ... a bunch during the first turns of the Comet Pass." He takes a breath, takes a drink of his beer and laughs at X'lar's question sneaks a look over at Mic. "Yeah. Pretty much. I mean, how we work it doesn't work for everyone, but we just ... fit. No jealousy. No insecurity."
T'mic's eyes are sympathetic as he looks across the table at his lover, but what he says is a forcedly light, "So I've got lots to catch up on." He adds a nod for Balinne's name then quirks a smile at X'lar's comment. "Speak for yourself," he teases. "I'm plenty jealous." More seriously, and to the younger man, "Thanks. It's... we both know what we want, I guess, and we aren't afraid to ask for it. And...," he's gotten back into heavy-thinking territory now, and the going is slow. "I know if he wants something, it's not anything about me. Nothing I did wrong. If that makes sense?"
Under the table, T'mic's foot bumps into the brownrider's, then tucks comfortingly around his ankle.
X'lar chuckles softly in response to Paddy's latter response and T'mic's retort, nodding once. But, as T'mic's words are slow to form into coherence, X'lar is patient for once to listen, to absorb the greenrider's words. "I think it makes sense, T'mic," X'lar tells him. "In fact, that makes a whole damned lot of sense to me. I think I mentioned this to P'draig once, but I admire what you and he have. It really is an amazing thing to find that kind of balance in life with someone."
P'draig looks up across at T'mic and smiles warmly. "Mm. I've -- been in and out of more than one relationship I thought was going to last," the brownrider says quietly. "This is ... different." And he winks T'mic's way, puts another forkful of food into his mouth, chews. "Being unafraid to speak up, I think that's the biggest difference. I don't think there's anything I could say that would really send Mic running and yeah, if either of us is into someone else, it doesn't take anything away from him and me."
Under the table, P'draig's foot curls in return, moving up a little then dropping back down, leaving them joined at the ankle.
T'mic gathers his glass to him, fingers resting lightly on the sides, and considers X'lar and P'draig in turn. "Thanks," he says again, shrugs one shoulder. "It's... I couldn't've done this, ten turns ago. Took a lot of time, took a few bumps for me to figure things out. Used to be weyrmated to Seliene," he adds, as though this should explain all, and flashes another grin at the brownrider. "Question is, am I supposed to be running -away-, or running -to-? You say plenty that has me running -to-."
"That's... kind of amazing," X'lar says. "And I like I told P'draig one night, /that/... the fact that you two know one another so well as to have that much understanding of one another... /that/ gives me hope for my own future of relationships. Relationship." At T'mic's words, however, Xie blinks a few times in surprise. "/Seliene?/" he asks, shocked. "Wow. I didn't know that." He grunts after another sip of his ale, voicing whatever conclusion his head came up with: "We all make stupid mistakes."
P'draig nods along with what Mic says. "Yeah, same here, bumps," he agrees and then he's laughing at Mic's quip. "Well you know I always /hope/ for to. But I meant, running away. I don't think there's anything I could do to put you off except tell you bunches of mean things and well, I have no reason to at all." He looks over at X'lar, grinning. "Mm. Seliene. For a while she and I had a little something going on too. We're still friends. His fork wanders through his plate collecting bits of sauce-on-fish. "All I can say, Xie, is try to be patient, listen lots, and try not to take a lot of things personally. Especially from a woman. Y'know. If woman are your only speed."
"Even if they're not," the greenrider puts in, then gives the bronzerider a tilt of his head. "Tell me you didn't just call Seliene a stupid mistake?" It's hard to tell if he's joking or not - his voice is light, but his gaze oddly intense.
"I had a crush on T'mic when I was 15 or something," Xie admits openly. "He has that kind of personality, I guess." X'lar almost speaks as if the greenrider weren't even in the dockside tavern with them. "But, to be honest, guys have never really... to use a phrase my dragon uses, 'made me itch as much' as women." He chuckles softly before going on to say, "I'm trying. To be patient. Listening's pretty hard when you talk as much as I do, but I'm trying harder with that." At T'mic's last statement, he shakes his head, saying, "I was thinking more about me than you, T'mic. I don't know Seliene well enough to even consider saying something like that."
"Can't say I disagree about Mic's personality," P'draig says with twinkling eyes, looking over at his weyrmate. "I mean, I wasn't really ... all that open to men until he came along, helped me get over one of those bumps," the brownrider says candidly. His hand curls around his glass of ale, draws it close and he takes a long sip, swallows, wiping off the little bit of foam with the back of his hand. "Sel's a lovely lady. Just wanted something a little different from what either Mic or I had in mind," he says mildly, nodding at X'lar's last.
"You know," T'mic points out, eyeing the two men again with an amused little half-smile, "I am right here. You can talk -to- me any time you'd like." He takes another drink of his juice, though this time it's a small swallow, and tells X'lar, "Sounded like you were talking about me and Seli, not you and whoever," before dropping P'draig another nod. "Which reminds me - Miara said she'd be happy to have any of Palia's stuff back you wanted to give her."
X'lar nods once to P'draig, chuckling softly as he replies back in response: "You're quite biased though, P'draig." He shrugs once before going on to admit, "That's never really been a... bump for me. Being with one person and wanting to be with other people too... That's a bump. But I'm not really sure I can help that aside from just not submitting to temptation." He shrugs once to T'mic, grinning back at him, saying, "Well, maybe I was /partly/ talking about you and Seli, but in the nicest possible way. Really."
There's only a grin for Mic as he makes that statement and he pops that last bite of fish into his mouth, has another drink of ale. "Well. Depends on if that's what you and whomever you're with wants. Not everyone wants a 'you and me only' relationship," he points out to X'lar. His gaze shifts back to T'mic and he nods. "Sure, can do. I'll pack all that stuff up -- tomorrow afternoon." There's something wicked in the way he looks at Mic briefly. "She's getting pretty close now. Must be pretty uncomfortable. Just the two months left, right?"
T'mic has a confused frown for the bronzerider, echoes, "Temptation?" like in a foreign language. He glances for Paddy for help in translating and nods, expression smoothing. "Oh - yeah, that. Well, if you want to sleep around and she doesn't want you to, that's a problem. But you have to ask if that's it, yeah? Don't make assumptions, or it'll come back to bite you." Speaking of biting - he narrows his eyes at the brownrider in mock-affront. "Flamed if I know. Uh... sixth month. And yesterday was turnover, so... yeah, guess it's only a couple months left."
"I honestly..." Xie begins, frowning with thought. "You know I just assumed that's what ... that someone wanted. Exclusivity." He shrugs once before going on to say, "But with me here, and her there... And me focusing on the candidates..." He trails off and rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I guess I'll talk to her about it at some point when neither of us are so busy." He looks between Paddy and T'mic curiously as their other conversation rolls right over his head. He and other two men are sitting at a table in the bar, T'mic with juice, Xie and Paddy with ales, fish nearly picked apart on plates in front of them.
"Yes. Definitely /talk/ about it," P'draig nods vigorously from his seat across from T'mic and next to X'lar, an empty plate in front of him and a half-full glass near at hand. "Assuming is just -- bad. Don't assume. Ask. Make things clear. Never leave it in the dark. It's better to have an awkward conversation about something and be on the same page when it's over than to both be kind of ... assuming things and not being right and miserable," Paddy says with a wry little grin. "Yeah, two and a half months," P'draig does a little mental arithmetic. "T'mic's about to be a father again," he explains for that blank look of X'lar's. "He knocked up Palia's old nanny." Which just proves up most of what they were both saying earlier.
Redwort, numbweed, liniment and other such medicinal smells that normal people seem to shy away from cling to Iesia like perfume. That's just what happens when you spend nine hours in the Infirmary. She seems not to notice such things, nor the fact that her arms are stained red from the elbow down. Hair pulled back, shirt-sleeves rolled, she saunters through the Sandbar without a backwards glance. And right up to the bar.
The greenrider looks curiously at X'lar but doesn't press him for an explanation. "S'what Seli and I did - made some assumptions." He shrugs again, glances away to catch sight of Iesia and watches her as he continues, "Didn't work out. Paddy and her brother took me for a little swim once 'cause of it." He gives Paddy a grimace and eyeroll before nodding at the Healer bellied up to the bar. "That's the one who helped T'riu. The one with the blue eyes."
X'lar blinks in surprise at Paddy's revelation. Or at least information. "Wow," X'lar comments. "That... is impressive." But then he quickly returns to the topic of talking and Xie replies back, "That... sounds like pretty good advice to me, P'draig. Thanks." At the sight of Iesia arriving, Xie smirks and mutters, "Talking about temptation..." He takes another quick drink from his glass of ale and calls out to the healer at the bar, "Evening 'sia." He glances to T'mic as he comments on the former Igenite. "That's Iesia. She's good at what she does."
"Mic's sixth kid," P'draig says with a hint of mirth on his face, clearly unbothered by this turn of events. "And he's never going to let me forget that," he says finger-wagging at Mic. "We were all drunk as all get out, just so you know," he tells X'lar with a grin then he too is tracking Iesia. "Yeah, we've all met." He nods politely Iesia's way from his seat at the table near the bar, with Mic across from him, X'lar to one side and one vacant chair on his other side. There's empty plates on the table, and Paddy and X'lar both have half-full ale glasses, while Mic seems to be quaffing something orange.
Something strong-looking. That's what Iesia ends up with. And she's just about to take it when her name, of a sort, is called. Her head turns, her glass is taken, and she glances towards the group from whence she was hailed. "Ah. X'lar," and hesitates briefly, a wary glance towards the pair of rider's with him, but eventually makes her way over and drops into a free chair. T'mic is given a scrutinizing look before she lifts her glass and takes a sip.
Into the bar strolls a younger woman. Quenby covers a quick yawn that jumps to her lips as she brushes black hair back from her face. The bar doesn't seem to full and she heads up to talk to talk to the bartender in low voices. He nods quickly at some request and winks to the young woman before heading to the back. The man come back to where she stands and hands over a half full brown bag. Slinging it over her shoulder she orders an ale then and leans with her back to the bar, just people watching.
"It's not my sixth!" the greenrider protests, then has to stop and count on his fingers. Four, five... and a thumb. Six. Darn. "Which reminds me," he adds to Paddy, "I've got to ask Kip about 'Solla. Remind me before we go?" He has more of his juice as Iesia approaches, unabashedly watching her walk, and stops only as she drops into the chair beside him. "Evening, Healer. B'ryce says T'riu's all settled in - going to keep him in bed until at least noon tomorrow, then let him walk around a bit if he's feeling up to it." With his back to the main bar, he misses Quenby's entrance entirely.
X'lar spots Quenby too while he looks at Iesia as she walks toward the table and sits down with Paddy, T'mic and he. "How're you tonight, 'sia?" X'lar asks the healer, smiling briefly at her. He grins, however, as his attention is taken by T'mic counting his hands. "Six kids," he tells the greenrider. "Wow."
There's a frown at the mention of T'riu, and Iesia looks ready to protest something. She decides against it, shrugs, and simply says, "He should have crutches, to stay off that knee." And then another sip, a sigh, and Iesia slouches in her seat. An eyebrow is arched at X'lar. "Sticky," she decides, pinching the front of her tunic for emphasis. Humidity. And then another eyebrow arch for T'mic, and a wrinkling of her nose. "Six? Children?" Grimace. "Not from the same mother...?"
"It --" P'draig starts but then stops, grinning at T'mic. "Right." And that look is fond indeed. There's no recrimination on his face for Iesia and there's even a welcoming smile as she claims that chair. "Sounds like you've had a busy day," he says in a friendly manner to the healer, then quiets down as T'mic explains about T'riu.
Quenby looks over and spots the cook-rider she met before. Not seeing anyone else she has had a chance to meet she heads over towards his table. Not really nervous but cautiously she says, "Hello again." Holding the ale she looks at the people spread about the table and a smile spreads upon her face brightly with nervousness now ensuing.
"I'll make sure B'ryce knows," the greenrider says easily, settling back into his chair. "About the crutches, I mean. And shells no, none of them have the same mother. There's, uh...," he spreads one hand for easier counting, pauses to aside to P'draig, "--And no helping! Tosolla, Tomella, Tiisa..." Which is when Quenby arrives and he stops to give her a quick once-over and a grin. "Hello yourself. Mic, Aath's." He continues around the table pointing and giving names (P'draig, Jekzith's, X'lar, Malsaeth's, Journeywoman Iesia) before ending up with an inquisitive finger aimed at the newcomer.
X'lar stays quiet for the time being, listening to the others talk instead. For the time being, the bronze rider attempts at being patient and attentive to the conversation, leaning against his chair as he drinks his ale. As he's introduced, X'lar lifts a hand to greet Quenby, smiling even in return.
A roll of her eyes, but Iesia turns to glance at Quenby as well. No greeting, just a simple shrug of her shoulder at the mention of her name. A sigh at T'mic. "I really... don't need to know all of their names, thanks? It seems a bit late to warn them." Or were those children's names? Iesia just shrugs again, and lifts her drink. For X'lar's silence, he gets an arched eyebrow of his own, and a somewhat amused expression. "Yes," she tells P'draig finally, "Mostly routine, a few kitchen cuts, a few dehydration cases, though Ista seems to have far fewer than Igen..."
P'draig opens his mouth to assist with the naming, then subsides, grinning over at Mic and lifting innocent hands. Instead he starts to collect empty plates to take back to the kitchen, while T'mic continues. He bobs his head Quenby's way then retreats back behind the bar with the stack of empty crockery. His beer goes with him, finished on the way and the glass left behind in the sink. Upon his return, he doesn't sit again, but leans both hands down on the back of his former chair. "Busy but routine, sounds livable?" he queries of Iesia, manner still friendly.
Quenby smiles back at greenrider and the introductions, "I'm um...Quenby." She finnally spits out. "A cook." She adds half heartedly. Looking to the empty seat she asks, "Mind if I join you?" She waits behind said chair and looks towards the other woman, "Oh you're the new healer here?" Her grin widens.
X'lar arches his own eyebrows back at Iesia. Not one but both, apparently never having learned how to be able to arch just one brow. He gives Quenby a brief look before smiling once more at her. "A /cook/," he tells her. "The world always needs more cooks!"
"Well met, Quenby," the greenrider says once the name's been provided, and finishes up despite Iesia's protests, "Jolemic - he's Tiisa's half-brother - and Tolian. And then whatever Miara decides to name hers." That's five full fingers counted off and the lone thumb waggles for Miara's unborn. Eyebrows go up at Paddy's clearing and he hastens to toss back the last of his juice and push back his chair. "We heading out, babe? --Sure, go ahead," he adds to Quenby, despite the fact that he might be inviting and running.
A bland look for 'livable'. Iesia just shrugs another shoulder and decides, "Perhaps." Her drink is nursed for a while, slow sips taken as she draws it out. A smirk, for X'lar, and then her attention is drawn to Quenby. Her head doesn't move, but her eyes roll up until she's found the self-proclaimed cook. Iesia's lips purse, a calculating study is given, and she finally says, "Yes. I am." The new Healer. And then, "Cook, you say? Perhaps you can tell me why your kitchen seems to lack the herbs required to make a properly spicy dish?"
Quenby nods her head and takes the seat after the invitation. Plopping the bag onto the table she grins even wider at Iesia's question, "Because I've only been here for 2 sevendays ma'am and just finally got my ma's requested herbs from Fort." She inticates the bag excitablly, "Just to test a few things out with the folks here and the headwoman before we can order some more." She takes a sip of her ale though she acts like a 6 turn old with a new pet.
Quenby's statement of occupation brings a grin to P'draig's face and he reaches across to offer his palm. "A cook huh? Used to be a Baker myself," he says then casts Iesia a quizzical look. "Not spicy enough, at Ista? And why Fort?" he looks over at Quenby again, perplexed. "Fort's got a much blander palate than Ista, plenty of great peppers down here. But if it's spicy you want Iesia, have a word with Kip, he's figuring out the menu for the Sandbar now it's got it's own kitchen." He flashes both women a grin then pushes upright and nods Mic's way. "Yeah, you were tired - but go ask Kip about Tosolla first, yeah?"
The greenrider stands and collects his glass, giving the rest of the table a beam. "Yeah, thanks. G'night - nice meeting you, Quenby. You and Paddy can wrangle about food some time, but not tonight. I'm dragging him off." There's another flash of smile before Mic wanders bar-ward, hailing Kip and engaging him in a short conversation. The 'keep shrugs once, nods and points over at the docks, leaving Mic frowning in puzzlement.
"I think I'm headed off as well," X'lar admits, getting up after finishing off his glass of ale. "I need to check in on the candidates before curfew." The bronze rider smiles once to Quenby, nodding to her briefly before saying, "Nice meeting you." And to Iesia he merely smirks back at the healer and tells her: "See you soon, 'sia." He drops a the necessary currency for his ale before finally making his way out of the dockside tavern. "And good night to you and Paddy, T'mic, and thanks again for the fish!" And with that, his steps fade away as he passes the threshold and walks onto the pathway toward the beach.
Quenby ohs and shrugs at P'draig, "Oh I heard you were a cook and a rider sir." The young woman takes the offered hand and shakes it quickly. To explain herself she adds, "Oh me and my family are from Fort Weyr. My mom has a few things she was working on there but hasn't had the chance until now to start on any of her recipes here yet. I don't know why Fort. Maybe I could pick you're brain on people to get things from here?" She bites her lip and pushes hair back from her eyes again.
Her glass is raised at the departing riders, and suddenly Iesia is left with the foreign Cook. And not looking terribly pleased. She eyes Quenby from her seat, glass raised and ready to be sipped from. Eventually, Iesia does just that, and takes a lengthy swallow. "Why cook?" she wants to know, rather interrogation-style.
P'draig gives Quenby a long searching look, then blinks and snaps his fingers. "Oh shells, you're Journeyman Senby's girl, aren't you?" He laughs a little, makes a wry face. "I remember you hanging around the kitchens now and then when you were younger. And uh -- sure, look up Idraila for plants and things and --" there's Mic looking all befuddled towards the docks. "I'll catch up with you sometime, okay? Need to sort this out with Mic," Paddy states, smiling again and gives a little wave. "Good evening X'lar, as he heads out, Iesia." And he retreats back to the bar and loops an arm through T'mic's leans in to find out what's going on, then tilts his head towards the door. Time to go.
Quenby chuckles and shakes her head at P'draig, "And her I was hoping no one would remember me from that age." She waves a hand to the other two departers and looks towards the woman she is left with, "I love the art behind it." She starts to answer, "I'm not a good dancer or drawer but I love the music a dish can make." She asks back, "Why be a healer?"
T'mic turns from the bar still sporting that frown, an expression that lightens only fractionally at Paddy's approach. "Says it was," he mutters into the other man's ear, his lips still moving as they head toward the door though his words get lost in the hubbub of a party of dockworkers just now entering. The pair make their way outside and onto the beach, the door swinging shut behind them.