Log: To drink or not to drink, that is the question...
IC: Day 14, month 9, turn 22 of Interval 10.
RL: 2010.05.09
What starts out as briefly touching base with Saiyah turns into Fremond pulling 'rank' on Bailey.
Docks, Ista Weyr(#450RJ)
Like fingers stretching out to sea, Ista's dockyards provide plenty of room to berth the ships that ply their trade here. Stone pilings support the wooden planking, the whole sturdy and well-worn from the constant traffic of the sailors and dockworkers that come and go with the tide. Thick posts march along both sides of the docks, rising half a man-height; from a few of them dangle salt-swollen and sun-bleached ropes. The ocean murmurs and slops at the pilings, rarely stretching itself to make the planks more than damp. A short distance to the east lies the Sandbar and out across the water distant shapes outline the small islands that dot Ista's famous black sand coastline.
+view boats
Obvious exits:
Beach The Sandbar
Saiyah has arrived.
The rain has just started by the water, beginning to take the edge off the heat of the day as the shower continues. Saiyah's sober black umbrella seems to very nearly live at her side in the outdoors, like a trusty sidearm - with the unpredictability of Ista's weather, it's not the worst idea in the world. It's out and opened now as she comes down the docks with an easy long-legged stride, one hand in her pocket, pale green eyes typically thoughtful.
Not all are as well prepared as Saiyah, or perhaps it’s just that the rain rolls right off of the proverbial duck’s back. Such as is the case when it comes to Bailey this day, for there she is, just a few feet away from the gangplank leading up to her sloop, dark hair slowly but surely starting to plaster against her head as she haggles over what appears to be a bucket of fish with a youth. From under his soggy vantage point under her hair, a little bronze firelizard peeks out, chittering his own opinions of the faire on offer. “Don’t try spinning a yarn on me, Layon. I know very well what the bait grade catchings go for.”
Maybe sailors are just more accustomed to bad weather - or maybe it's just that, Saiyah, for all her apparent lack of vanity, doesn't much like getting all wet and gross. As she comes to pass the Even'Star, her attention is drawn by Bailey and her haggling, brows arching as her gaze shifts to the young man attempting some sort of thievery with bait. With a smirk, her steps slow, and she points out idly, "It's not like there's not a lot of other people selling that sort of thing along here."
The smell coming off of the bucket and the apparent hunger of the recently hatched firelizard has the creature scrambling down from where it had been draped about Bailey’s neck. Without nary a care for such niceties as the exchange of marks or deals to be made, it perches on the side of the bucket and promptly sets to sating its appetite. A deep smirk forms on Layon’s mouth, “Guess you’ll be hearing from my captain about that favour he wanted.” Pale eyes roll in exasperation and land on Saiyah. With a twist of mouth into a light grimace, “That would be so if the little blighter weren’t so impatient.”
Saiyah 's eyes widen as she watches the little firelizard make a break for the bucket, and she's about to warn Bailey, but he's just too quick. With a little huff instead of any words, she just shakes her head, nose wrinkled as the bronze chows down. Or maybe it's for talk of favours; the other brunette flicks bangs from her eyes, muttering, "I never make deals for favours." More conversationally, to Bailey, "Seems like it. Imagine they get better about that /eventually/. But for right now, I'd keep him away from any edible negotiations?"
Keeping one eye on the firelizard, Bailey affords Layon a last glowering glance as he turns and heads back to his ship. Glancing over to Saiyah a smirk appears, “Depends on what you term as a favour and what a deal.” Pale eyes flicker back down to the bronze as tanned shoulders shift in the semblance of a shrug, “No idea. Figured this was cheaper than herdbeast,” a crooked grin turns over to the blonde, “Wonder if negotiations of the alcoholic kind would be in jeopardy too?” Tipping her head to one side the other woman is given a moment’s contemplation and then, “So, what’s new in the world of Saiyah? That brother of yours still shadowing you?” A quick check over the other’s shoulder in case said sibling may be lurking nearby.
"Undefined favours? Not the sort of thing I'm into. I just hope that's not it." Saiyah wrinkles her nose a little again, arching dark brows Bailey's way - she doesn't take the other woman to be /that/ bad at business - then glances down at the bucket, the lizard. "That is cheaper than herdbeast, I'd think." It's raining, though not much more than a shower - Saiyah's got a large black umbrella, while Bailey's just going without, both standing before the Even'Star, where a bronze firelizard goes to town on some bait. "He seems as happy with it as he'd be with the other. And alcoholic kind?" Glancing up again, curious now, she offers an easy shrug with an equally easy grin. "Anton? Some, yeah. But not as much right now. Not much new, though it seems everyone else is busy. Yourself?"
Fine brows lift up, “Shards no, give me a little more credit than that,” Bailey laughs shaking her head in amusement. The bronze, now that his immediate hunger has been satisfied seems to have become rather picky, picking up a fish and then ripping the poor thing’s eyes out before dropping it back into the bucket and pouncing on another to do the same. The brunette shudders emitting a small sound of revulsion, “Skipper, stop that, it’s disgusting!” Hands lift, slick wet hair back from her face and she elaborates with a short chuckle as she waves back down to the bronze, “Dinner and a drink,” by way of explanation for the alcohol comment. Something Saiyah says has interest brightening her gaze, “Oh? Did you find something else to distract him with?” Anton, the brother. Shrugging in far too nonchalant a manner she casts a sidelong look up to her sloop, “The usual. Getting the Even’Star back into shape,” smirking slightly now, “Got me a new deckhand which helps some with that.”
Fremond ambles down onto the docks from the direction of the Even'Star with a rolling stride. There's a wide grin on his face as he takes in the activities along the docks as he walks. Though he doesn't have an umbrela, he wears a dark hat to keep the rain out of his face. The smile fades a few stages at hearing Bailey's voice but he's already heading in that direction so he'll just have to put on his best face for her and the lady with her. In the crook of his arm is a silent but sharp-eyed little blue bundle, although he untangles quickly and launches towards the fish-bits and the bronze to feed.
Flashing a grin, Saiyah lifts a free hand, palm up, expression frankly wry as she shrugs. She had to ask. Pointedly looking /away/ from the grossness when the firelizard starts getting all disgusting about things, she shudders a touch, asking Bailey, "Does he /listen/ to you? Are they all like that?" Ew. Glancing back to the other brunette, green eyes coloured with something between amusement and concern, "He found a couple of things to distract himself with. Hopefully that all works out." Without someone getting injured. Eyeing the other women skeptically, she doesn't ask, merely notes blandly, "That's nice." But saved by the blue? The tall tanned girl is suddenly blinking at the blur towards the bucket, then over to Fremond, dark brows arched.
Grinning crookedly, “Anyone taking bets on that?” this to Saiyah’s brother being kept out of her hair, “Could do with an extra set of hands if he’s a mind to work for a smile and a thanks?” She’s probably teasing about that. Maybe. Skipper is quick to spread his wings protectively over ‘his’ bucket of fish, hissing a challenge to his blue brother. A sharp word from Bailey and the bronze grumpily tucks his wings back along his sides giving his human a glowering look - apparently he does listen to the brunette, when he feels like it. Despite his bulging belly, he won’t move and instead keeps an eye on his sibling. A small twist of mouth that could be taken as a smile as Fremond arrives, “Morning old man, sleep well?” this said as a smirk is sent down his blue’s way.
Fremond's smile, though faded, is still in place as he looks the two ladies over. "Could have slept a bit more, but had an early morning wake-up and my whole supply of dried wherry finished off." He gives the bronze 'lizard a long look and then looks at Bailey, "Looks like you've been up early too eh?" The blue hisses at his clutch brother and grabs up a half-eaten fish, flying off with it to perch on a dock-post to eat it in peace. "Who's your friend?" Giving a friendlier smile to Saiyah.
"Oh, I dunno. When he gets something in his head, he sticks with it awhile, Anton. But it won't last forever, you're right about that, at least." Saiyah gives a tragic little sigh for that, rolling her eyes over at Bailey. Siblings. What can you do. Despite the fact that the lizards are pretty much illustrating that, she ignores then, telling the older woman, "Given he works down here, don't think that'd go over well. And in our family, we always get paid. It's in the rules." After a sober nod, she turns to the man, offering her own brief smile. "Saiyah."
With a low chuckle the brunette will try to lightly bump an elbow Saiyah’s way, “You could always stow away with me. All I ask is a mark a day and three hours labor on deck.” Kidding? Maybe not. Brows lift upward at talk of rules, her tone turning lightly mocking, “And do you always follow the rules?” Bailey affects a moue of sympathy for Fremond, it almost looks genuine, adding as she does so, “One can only hope we weren’t the only ones given a rude awakening, aye?” a pointed look sent his way. With a wave of hand toward the leggy blonde she’s about to make the introductions until the other woman offers up her name. As such she leaves it up to the older man to supply his. Nodding toward the bucket, “Oh, and Salron from the Northern Queen,” a vessel from the northern reaches, “is looking for someone to haul a crate down Southern way next time the Orchid Rain heads out.” This is likely the deal struck with the young Layon in exchange for a steady supply of bait.
Fremond adjusts his hat to keep the dripping of water from soaking the back of his neck when he looks up at the other woman. "Pleasure meeting you." He looks amused at the 'always get paid' thing with a drawl, "Must be nice to always get paid." The oldster looks amused at the young lady, watching her a moment longer before Bailey speaks of work. "Really? Sounds like it'd be easy enough to arrange. Hopefully he's not in any hurry."
"When it comes to money? Yes." Saiyah's pale green gaze is entirely serious as she regards Bailey. "Anything else is negotiable." There's a grin for that, at least - even if it's a little shark-like. But given she's young, one could dismiss it entirely. Brightly, "On the plus side, that means we always pay our contractors, if they do the job. And nice to meet you too..." She pauses as she realizes she's not yet gotten his name, then peers further down the docks to see someone waving at her several ships along. Lifting her free hand in acknowledgment, she turns back to the pair apologetically. "Package I need to pick up - seems like someone's in a hurry."
Bailey isn’t one to dismiss anything no matter the age of the person she may be addressing. However, that little grin coming off of Saiyah draws an oddly approving look, giving over a, “We should talk,” before the girl’s making her apologies and having to head off. Shaking her sodden head in Fremond’s direction as she suppresses a small shiver of discomfort as the rain continues to fall, “Said something about it being something for his brother that was five turns overdue?” So no, no hurry. Skipper’s interest in the bucket dwindles once it becomes clear that the blue is not going to put up any kind of fight. Lazy with food now he puts a pathetic kreel up to his human - pick me uuuup!
Fremond's eyebrows wing up and he has to give a more measured look to Saiyah, as though he mistook her age, "You have your own contractors?" Sounding impressed that the youngster has her own business, but also a touch skeptical. "I'm Fremond." Nose crinkled at the delay in offering out his own name. "Sorry, 'bout that." When she speaks of needing to be off he gives a small nod and glances away, out over the stormy sea. His head nods about Bailey's future package-delivery but then frowns, slowly looking at the older of the two, "So, what are they going to pay for this work anyway?"
Saiyah clarifies for Fremond, "My family does. Think of me like... an agent or something. And we'll talk soon, Bailey." With a smile and a little fan of fingers that passes for a wave, the tall tanned girl heads off to another ship, one that, should they be curious enough to check, hails from Big Bay.
Saiyah goes home.
Saiyah has left.
Watching after Saiyah with interest drawn in her gaze for the ship she moves toward, Bailey turns an amused expression over to Fremond, “A regular supply of food for this lot,” her hand moving to encompass their new charges, “Unless of course…you want to be spending your days fishing for it yourself? Figure we have enough on our hands to deal with without adding to it.” As such she scoops up the whining and sleepy bronze, tucks him into the crook of her arm and starts up the gangplank, “There’ll be no working until this rain lets up, so you’re free to do…” giving that a moment’s thought before continuing on, “whatever it is you do on your off days. Of course, you’re welcome to join me for a mug of brandy klah?” A small sneeze punctuates that last.
Fremond's features melt into a more skeptical set on his weather-worn features, "Kids. Don't know that I'd want to trust someone that age with any business dealings." He rubs a hand along his jaw and gives his head a shake, "You know what sort of business she's into?" Only partly interested really. When Bailey announces no work due to rain he barks out a laugh, "Ya softy. I won't say no to a day off though, or a drink if you're actually going to share with me." A glance over at the blue firelizard and the little guy wings over to the old sailor, making a comfortable perch there without need of extra fussing.
Even'Star(#1935R)
Designed with only needing one or two members to crew it, the Even'Star is a modest little vessel of just 55feet long and capable of flying up to five sails at once. Fore-and-aft rigging projects from a single mast that bears a topmast. Currently just one headsail is flying and is strangely festooned with bright fabric flowers, one can only guess at the reasoning for such an outlandish display on an otherwise simply decked out sloop. The chipped and faded black with white trim speaks to this once having been a pretty little vessel and yet while hull and stern are nowhere near their potential glory, the decking is kept meticulously scrubbed and cared for. A singe hatch leads down into cramped private quarters that have been divided into living and make-shift cargo hold, thus petitioning the need for hammocks rather than squander space to the luxury of a bunk.
Contents:
Cabin(#777Aeh)
Obvious exits:
Docks
Cresting the gangplank and moving immediately toward the shelter of the cabin, Bailey pauses on her way down turning a light smirk up to Fremond, “Because you were never a kid yourself once.” Pushing the curtain aside she deposits the sleeping bronze on her bunk and returns towelling herself down with a towel that may or may not look familiar to the older man, “She’s a pretty sharp girl from what I can tell. No idea what their trade is. Plan on looking into it though.” From a shelf a cast iron pot with coals in it is taken down and a kettle of previously prepared klah is set onto it. Speaking from under the towel as she rubs at her hair, amusement clear in her tone, “Shared the rum with you didn’t I?” Hanging the towel over a nearby rail, the brunette leans her hip against the side of the table and puts a considering look over to him before asking, “What happened?” her tone turning down a notch before she adds in low query, “To his wife?” Talk about leapfrogging a conversation!
Fremond smirks faintly, "I don't like to remeber being a child. I made a lot of foolish mistakes. And I wouldn't have given the young-me a business deal either. Except maybe a few long hours in the sun gutting fish. Which I did, if you'd wondered." He crinkles up his nose at the memory though as he follows her up on deck, "I sure as shit wouldn't pay top mark to some wet-behind-the-ear traider at the very least." He pulls off his hat once out of the rain, but doesn't transfer the firelizard napping against the crook of his neck. There's a moment of baffled silence at the change of topic, "Who?"
With an expression that hovers somewhere between a smile and a grimace, “Don’t much like what I remember of being a kid either,” as if that were not just a few turns ago. A faint lift of brow for the snippet of information handed over, and then slightly amused, “Isn’t that what all children of good seafaring families do?” Taking down two mugs, the chipped one Bailey owns now mysteriously joined by another in only slightly better condition. With her back conveniently turned toward Fremond now as she uncorks the half empty bottle of brandy and pours a measure into each mug, she adds simply, “Rio,” by way of explanation.
Fremond's chuckle is a rough sound under his breath, "Unless you come from a real -good- seafaring family. Then you get to hire folks to do it for you." No malice there, just the way of the world. He watches the tinkering around the mugs and settles down into a chair, turning it so he can cross his arms over the chair back. "Rio..." There's a faint 'ah' and his eyes hood. "I'm not sure that's a story I should be telling. A man has a right to his secrets."
A soft snort as Bailey uses the still damp towel to lift the kettle and pour the steaming brew of klah into each mug, “Only people my family ever hired were those not to be trusted alone with so much as a canine.” Taking her time, the only sound in the cabin for a while is the soft chinking of spoon against ceramics as she stirs each mug in turn. Holding one out toward Fremond, the younger woman’s face is at first carefully devoid of expression as she arranges herself into a perch on the edge of the table. Staring down into her mug that is now cradled between two hands, the old man is sent an intent look from under lowered lashes, “I need to know, Fremond,” using his given name for the first time, “But I understand if you don’t wish to break whatever loyalty it is you have to him.” She leaves it up to him to decide as she blows gently across the surface of the steaming brew and then takes a careful sip.
Fremond's gaze sharpens as he watches Bailey, "Don't think my family ever hired anyone. Though if you have the bad luck of hiring only the dregs, I wouldn't bother either." He rests his chin on the crossed arms, only lifting his head when she's offering out the cup to him. There's still an edge to the look he's giving her though, keen and interested. "Alright, I'll bite. Why is it so important you need to know? Ain't seen you around the ship at all since you got back and even I can see you have some hold over Cande. Maybe I should know what game you're playing before I give you any more leverage against him."
Pale eyes easily meet the look coming off of Fremond, the slight tightening of her jaw the only initial response to the hiring of thugs, “Things aren’t always as they should be.” And that’s all she’ll say on the subject for the time being. The scrutiny she receives combined with the question put to her has Bailey taking a longer sip of the mug, a glance flickering to the older man over its edge as she does so. She’ll answer what he may already know first with, “Pissed him off when I called him a cheating bastard,” trying to shrug off her discomfort for that with, “thought he was still married.” Frowning a little now she stares down into her mug, “Don’t know,” honesty there as to why it’s important to her, “Just…he deserves better.” Than her? Than being a widower?
THere's a slight nod of his head to things not being as they should be and a quiet, "Sometimes you just have to brace up and fix what you can and toss out what you can't. But, I'm not one for lecturing and, don't know a thing about you." He looks away, faint disgust showing as his mouth hardens, "One thing Rio ain't--is a cheater. Which, I guess you'd not know having not been around him long enough. And he deserves a whole lot better than the cards he's been drawing recently. Never thought I'd have sympathy for someone born with a silver-spoon but..." His words trail off, budding into a frustrated sigh. "Why you get so angry anyway?"
“’Swhy I left,” Bailey offers through the edges of what might be a small smile. Which quickly drains away and has her swallowing down a rather large gulp of brandied klah at Fremond’s response. Chastened, not a sentiment she wears well, the brunette tries to cover with a small amount of heat injected into her tone, “And I won’t be the cause of a man cheating on his wife!” This maybe lending clue to some of what had fuelled her anger that day, adding in a hard tone, “Take my blade to any man I married that did that to me.” This slips away after another calming sip of brew. Catching her bottom lip for a moment the brunette lifts her chin and states boldly, “I like what I see,” adding with a slightly challenging air, “You got a problem with that?”
"Interesting that a woman would turn a blade on a man for not keeping it in his pants, but a man just has to brace up and put on a brave face if a wife can't keep any random dick from finding her hole." Fremond might be speaking of his employeer, but he may be speaking of himself, or just in general. He sips at the brandied klah, looking less angry than just sad. "You like what you see? In Rio? I have a bit of a problem with it--only for the case that you don't know him and he doesn't need to be played a puppet to anyone."
With another snort, “Not every woman is out to take a man for everything he’s got, you know. Sometimes the man himself is all that is needed.” Says she, the one recently confessed of thieving from Fremond’s employer. It’s the old man’s last that draws a narrow eyed look his way, stating as evenly as possible, “And you assume that’s what I’m doing.” Not a question, a statement. A quick sip from her mug and Bailey is shaking her head slowly in her own gesture of sadness, “Perhaps once you get to know me, you’ll find I’m not quite the sea-hag you seem to think I am.” What is supposed to warm a body from the inside out seems to be having little effect but to turn the brunette’s stomach for soon she’s setting the mug down and is looking decidedly queasy. Muttering in between taking slow deep breaths as she bows her head and tries to make the world stop going round and round and round, “Oh for Faranth’s sake! Not brandy too!” the last a mournful groan. Pushing herself off the edge of the table, she sways and then takes a step in the direction of her sleeping quarters, “I’m…just going to go and check on the little guy,” her firelizard. She doesn’t make it passed another step or two before she’s down and out, flat on the floor.
Fremond tips his chin down but keeps his eyes on Bailey, "Right. So you say." He's not going to argue, but her argument falls on deaf ears. Even his dead-eyed expression answers her, it is exactly what he thinks the woman is doing. "I don't care to get to know....Shit!" He is up out of his seat when the woman crumbles to the floor, his firelizard zipping off his shoulder to flap around the cabin, trumpeting in distress. Quick to action, he's at her side in a blink, crouching down to peer at her in concern.
Had she been conscious, it's likely Bailey would simply have laid a flat look back onto the older man, not about to waste her time defending herself. As it is she misses whatever commotion her close association with the floor brings about and it's a good few moments before eyelashes flutter against cheeks devoid of color. Blink, blink, and then a small start as she finds Fremond -right- there peering down at her, "What did you do to me?" suspicion setting in for how she ended up on the floor.
Fremond hovers over Bailey, putting a strong hand on her shoulder to stop her from getting up to fast. His expression doesn't relax at all when her eyes open, "What did I do? It's your booze. You're the one who made your own drink." Another look over at her, taking in the drained complexion with a deepening frown, "You hurt yourself?"
Bailey only makes it as far as pushing herself up enough to lean her weight onto a hand set flat against the floor before Fremond's hand is stilling further progress. Her other hand lifts to rub at her eyes, suspicion being replaced by confusion, "Must be a bad bottle. Never buy from that trader again!" The brandy she'd used. Peering down at herself she shakes her head slowly, "Don't think so." And then she's wanting to try and get up, her cheeks starting to pinken up again and then deepen into a blushed hue of awkwardness. Striving to try and gloss over the situation, "What were you saying before?"
Fremond doesn't buy it, and his hands continue to try to still her and keep her sitting at least. "That bottle didn't look too full you know, so you didn't have a problem with it before." His eyes move from her to the bottle of booze, or at least that general area, "Maybe you need to take some time to just rest and stick to drinking just water or juice huh?" Mindless of her embarassment he goes around checking her over, "You fell pretty hard." No remark about what they were talking about before, no going onto another topic just yet.
Her mouth opens in protest and then closes again as she can’t rightly deny what it is Fremond says about the bottle of brandy. A near petulant look is shot the older man as he insists on her staying where she is, frowning now, “Had sunstroke before, long ago when I was a littlie, don’t remember it lasting this long.” Yes, because that’s the next best option to bad booze. A mute nod of acquiescence is given in response to the offer of juice as fingers lift and explore a bump to the side of her head that has appeared, “You sure you didn’t smack me over the head or something?” Her tone suggesting she’s only half-serious about that.
Fremond gives Bailey a look of puzzlement, "How long have you been like this? Maybe you need to lay off the booze for a bit until you dry out." As though she's deep in the dregs of the bottle or something. "I see you drinking an awful lot. More than a woman should." In his very best, fatherly tone. At last he does let her get up, but blocks her way to rejoin her cup at the table. "Maybe you aught to lay down huh? I'll see if that bar has some juice and water. Yeah, you gotta drink -water-."
Lifting first one finger, then another, and another, Bailey counts silently as she tries to figure out how long. Fremond however, gets no verbal reply on the matter. Pale eyes narrow, indignation flickering in them, "I'm not some dock lush!" Bailey humphs and then likely contradicts herself by adding with a little sniff, "Could probably drink you under the table!" Back on her feet again, hands smooth down the sides of her still damp skirt, and the older man is treated to an outright display of stubbornness as he blocks her path to her mug, trying to reach passed him, "You're not the boss of me!" So mature! Shaking her head determinedly and with what little pride she can muster, "Not a littlie or an old woman. I'm fine, just need some water." That she'll concede to.
Fremond just looks at Bailey as she on one hand claims not to be a lush and then counters with just as much she can drink. "You need to fucking dry out." He says to her roughly. "Not going to do anyone any good if you're up to your eyes in the liquor. Fuck." He lets her up, standing swiftly himself and he reaches out for her arm, wanting to get her attention back on him when she goes into a tiff. "Actually, right now, I am the boss of you. Because if you go and drink yourself to death, my boss isn't going to be much happy about it. So, I'll save you from yourself if I have to. And you are a child to me, so sit your ass down."
Anger flares and before she can stop the words they come snapping out, “Haven’t had a real drink in -weeks-! Every time I try, I want to throw up!” with some exasperation, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was a conspiracy already in place!” to stop her drinking. And get her attention Fremond does as his fingers find purchase around her upper arm. Lips pull back into the beginnings of a snarl and then retract for the words and tone of voice used, leaving Bailey staring at the older man wide eyed and doing as bidden as she plonks her butt onto a chair. It’s either instinct being taken in hand by a man old enough to be her father, or it’s just that she just doesn’t have the energy to argue any further. She will however, turn a scowl up to her ‘minder’, “Do I get sent to my room now too?”
Fremond's firelizard finally lands back on his shoulder, peering at Bailey warily while the old man gives her a steady look. "I don't know if I'm buying that story. Unless you were deep in the bottle and just taking a bit to dry out. Happen to have nursed a man through that not too long ago. Happy to do so again if I have to too." There's a nod for her as she sits down, moving his hand off her arm. "You gotta have some water to drink first. But some extra sleep wouldn't be too bad either."
That has Bailey looking ready to smack Fremond up side the head, fingers of the one hand curling into a fist, the other seeking out something close at hand to throw at him once he lets go of her. Instead she counters with deep sarcasm, "Yes, because the first time we met, you were in full control of all your senses. And by the way? If that's your normal singing voice and not as a result of some drinking spree? Then tell me now so that I can get myself a pair of earplugs!" More huffy than irate. Pulling her knees up and hooking her heels on the edge of the chair she sits on the brunette wraps her arms about her legs and sighs softly in a highly put upon manner, "Fine, I'll drink some water, but I'm not going to sleep."
Seeing Bailey's look, the old man hunches down, as though he's expecting this to come to blows, "You better think real long and hard before you go hitting me. I'm not your boyfriend and I'll put you over my knee and give you the spanking you need." He smirks at the reminder of his drinking, "YEeeaaahh, well, I wasn't passing out on my feet either. So, lets not go and turn this about me." Straightening slowly, there's a moment of hate for her brimming in his expression but thankfully he doesn't turn his head and spit, although it's easy to see the thought is crossing his mind. "I'll be right back with that water."
Smirking deeply at words of a spanking, Bailey taunts with “Promise?” That expression lingers and then turns into yet another scowl for the hateful look Fremond sends her. She says nothing of it however simply nodding and adding in a moody tone as she lifts a hand to wave him off on his water errand, “Whatever.” Sulky brat! Waiting for him to return, the brunette lays her cheek against her knees, pale eyes flickering a time or two until they slowly slide shut and the weary woman is soon asleep, seated exactly as he left her.
RL: 2010.05.09
What starts out as briefly touching base with Saiyah turns into Fremond pulling 'rank' on Bailey.
Docks, Ista Weyr(#450RJ)
Like fingers stretching out to sea, Ista's dockyards provide plenty of room to berth the ships that ply their trade here. Stone pilings support the wooden planking, the whole sturdy and well-worn from the constant traffic of the sailors and dockworkers that come and go with the tide. Thick posts march along both sides of the docks, rising half a man-height; from a few of them dangle salt-swollen and sun-bleached ropes. The ocean murmurs and slops at the pilings, rarely stretching itself to make the planks more than damp. A short distance to the east lies the Sandbar and out across the water distant shapes outline the small islands that dot Ista's famous black sand coastline.
+view boats
Obvious exits:
Beach The Sandbar
Saiyah has arrived.
The rain has just started by the water, beginning to take the edge off the heat of the day as the shower continues. Saiyah's sober black umbrella seems to very nearly live at her side in the outdoors, like a trusty sidearm - with the unpredictability of Ista's weather, it's not the worst idea in the world. It's out and opened now as she comes down the docks with an easy long-legged stride, one hand in her pocket, pale green eyes typically thoughtful.
Not all are as well prepared as Saiyah, or perhaps it’s just that the rain rolls right off of the proverbial duck’s back. Such as is the case when it comes to Bailey this day, for there she is, just a few feet away from the gangplank leading up to her sloop, dark hair slowly but surely starting to plaster against her head as she haggles over what appears to be a bucket of fish with a youth. From under his soggy vantage point under her hair, a little bronze firelizard peeks out, chittering his own opinions of the faire on offer. “Don’t try spinning a yarn on me, Layon. I know very well what the bait grade catchings go for.”
Maybe sailors are just more accustomed to bad weather - or maybe it's just that, Saiyah, for all her apparent lack of vanity, doesn't much like getting all wet and gross. As she comes to pass the Even'Star, her attention is drawn by Bailey and her haggling, brows arching as her gaze shifts to the young man attempting some sort of thievery with bait. With a smirk, her steps slow, and she points out idly, "It's not like there's not a lot of other people selling that sort of thing along here."
The smell coming off of the bucket and the apparent hunger of the recently hatched firelizard has the creature scrambling down from where it had been draped about Bailey’s neck. Without nary a care for such niceties as the exchange of marks or deals to be made, it perches on the side of the bucket and promptly sets to sating its appetite. A deep smirk forms on Layon’s mouth, “Guess you’ll be hearing from my captain about that favour he wanted.” Pale eyes roll in exasperation and land on Saiyah. With a twist of mouth into a light grimace, “That would be so if the little blighter weren’t so impatient.”
Saiyah 's eyes widen as she watches the little firelizard make a break for the bucket, and she's about to warn Bailey, but he's just too quick. With a little huff instead of any words, she just shakes her head, nose wrinkled as the bronze chows down. Or maybe it's for talk of favours; the other brunette flicks bangs from her eyes, muttering, "I never make deals for favours." More conversationally, to Bailey, "Seems like it. Imagine they get better about that /eventually/. But for right now, I'd keep him away from any edible negotiations?"
Keeping one eye on the firelizard, Bailey affords Layon a last glowering glance as he turns and heads back to his ship. Glancing over to Saiyah a smirk appears, “Depends on what you term as a favour and what a deal.” Pale eyes flicker back down to the bronze as tanned shoulders shift in the semblance of a shrug, “No idea. Figured this was cheaper than herdbeast,” a crooked grin turns over to the blonde, “Wonder if negotiations of the alcoholic kind would be in jeopardy too?” Tipping her head to one side the other woman is given a moment’s contemplation and then, “So, what’s new in the world of Saiyah? That brother of yours still shadowing you?” A quick check over the other’s shoulder in case said sibling may be lurking nearby.
"Undefined favours? Not the sort of thing I'm into. I just hope that's not it." Saiyah wrinkles her nose a little again, arching dark brows Bailey's way - she doesn't take the other woman to be /that/ bad at business - then glances down at the bucket, the lizard. "That is cheaper than herdbeast, I'd think." It's raining, though not much more than a shower - Saiyah's got a large black umbrella, while Bailey's just going without, both standing before the Even'Star, where a bronze firelizard goes to town on some bait. "He seems as happy with it as he'd be with the other. And alcoholic kind?" Glancing up again, curious now, she offers an easy shrug with an equally easy grin. "Anton? Some, yeah. But not as much right now. Not much new, though it seems everyone else is busy. Yourself?"
Fine brows lift up, “Shards no, give me a little more credit than that,” Bailey laughs shaking her head in amusement. The bronze, now that his immediate hunger has been satisfied seems to have become rather picky, picking up a fish and then ripping the poor thing’s eyes out before dropping it back into the bucket and pouncing on another to do the same. The brunette shudders emitting a small sound of revulsion, “Skipper, stop that, it’s disgusting!” Hands lift, slick wet hair back from her face and she elaborates with a short chuckle as she waves back down to the bronze, “Dinner and a drink,” by way of explanation for the alcohol comment. Something Saiyah says has interest brightening her gaze, “Oh? Did you find something else to distract him with?” Anton, the brother. Shrugging in far too nonchalant a manner she casts a sidelong look up to her sloop, “The usual. Getting the Even’Star back into shape,” smirking slightly now, “Got me a new deckhand which helps some with that.”
Fremond ambles down onto the docks from the direction of the Even'Star with a rolling stride. There's a wide grin on his face as he takes in the activities along the docks as he walks. Though he doesn't have an umbrela, he wears a dark hat to keep the rain out of his face. The smile fades a few stages at hearing Bailey's voice but he's already heading in that direction so he'll just have to put on his best face for her and the lady with her. In the crook of his arm is a silent but sharp-eyed little blue bundle, although he untangles quickly and launches towards the fish-bits and the bronze to feed.
Flashing a grin, Saiyah lifts a free hand, palm up, expression frankly wry as she shrugs. She had to ask. Pointedly looking /away/ from the grossness when the firelizard starts getting all disgusting about things, she shudders a touch, asking Bailey, "Does he /listen/ to you? Are they all like that?" Ew. Glancing back to the other brunette, green eyes coloured with something between amusement and concern, "He found a couple of things to distract himself with. Hopefully that all works out." Without someone getting injured. Eyeing the other women skeptically, she doesn't ask, merely notes blandly, "That's nice." But saved by the blue? The tall tanned girl is suddenly blinking at the blur towards the bucket, then over to Fremond, dark brows arched.
Grinning crookedly, “Anyone taking bets on that?” this to Saiyah’s brother being kept out of her hair, “Could do with an extra set of hands if he’s a mind to work for a smile and a thanks?” She’s probably teasing about that. Maybe. Skipper is quick to spread his wings protectively over ‘his’ bucket of fish, hissing a challenge to his blue brother. A sharp word from Bailey and the bronze grumpily tucks his wings back along his sides giving his human a glowering look - apparently he does listen to the brunette, when he feels like it. Despite his bulging belly, he won’t move and instead keeps an eye on his sibling. A small twist of mouth that could be taken as a smile as Fremond arrives, “Morning old man, sleep well?” this said as a smirk is sent down his blue’s way.
Fremond's smile, though faded, is still in place as he looks the two ladies over. "Could have slept a bit more, but had an early morning wake-up and my whole supply of dried wherry finished off." He gives the bronze 'lizard a long look and then looks at Bailey, "Looks like you've been up early too eh?" The blue hisses at his clutch brother and grabs up a half-eaten fish, flying off with it to perch on a dock-post to eat it in peace. "Who's your friend?" Giving a friendlier smile to Saiyah.
"Oh, I dunno. When he gets something in his head, he sticks with it awhile, Anton. But it won't last forever, you're right about that, at least." Saiyah gives a tragic little sigh for that, rolling her eyes over at Bailey. Siblings. What can you do. Despite the fact that the lizards are pretty much illustrating that, she ignores then, telling the older woman, "Given he works down here, don't think that'd go over well. And in our family, we always get paid. It's in the rules." After a sober nod, she turns to the man, offering her own brief smile. "Saiyah."
With a low chuckle the brunette will try to lightly bump an elbow Saiyah’s way, “You could always stow away with me. All I ask is a mark a day and three hours labor on deck.” Kidding? Maybe not. Brows lift upward at talk of rules, her tone turning lightly mocking, “And do you always follow the rules?” Bailey affects a moue of sympathy for Fremond, it almost looks genuine, adding as she does so, “One can only hope we weren’t the only ones given a rude awakening, aye?” a pointed look sent his way. With a wave of hand toward the leggy blonde she’s about to make the introductions until the other woman offers up her name. As such she leaves it up to the older man to supply his. Nodding toward the bucket, “Oh, and Salron from the Northern Queen,” a vessel from the northern reaches, “is looking for someone to haul a crate down Southern way next time the Orchid Rain heads out.” This is likely the deal struck with the young Layon in exchange for a steady supply of bait.
Fremond adjusts his hat to keep the dripping of water from soaking the back of his neck when he looks up at the other woman. "Pleasure meeting you." He looks amused at the 'always get paid' thing with a drawl, "Must be nice to always get paid." The oldster looks amused at the young lady, watching her a moment longer before Bailey speaks of work. "Really? Sounds like it'd be easy enough to arrange. Hopefully he's not in any hurry."
"When it comes to money? Yes." Saiyah's pale green gaze is entirely serious as she regards Bailey. "Anything else is negotiable." There's a grin for that, at least - even if it's a little shark-like. But given she's young, one could dismiss it entirely. Brightly, "On the plus side, that means we always pay our contractors, if they do the job. And nice to meet you too..." She pauses as she realizes she's not yet gotten his name, then peers further down the docks to see someone waving at her several ships along. Lifting her free hand in acknowledgment, she turns back to the pair apologetically. "Package I need to pick up - seems like someone's in a hurry."
Bailey isn’t one to dismiss anything no matter the age of the person she may be addressing. However, that little grin coming off of Saiyah draws an oddly approving look, giving over a, “We should talk,” before the girl’s making her apologies and having to head off. Shaking her sodden head in Fremond’s direction as she suppresses a small shiver of discomfort as the rain continues to fall, “Said something about it being something for his brother that was five turns overdue?” So no, no hurry. Skipper’s interest in the bucket dwindles once it becomes clear that the blue is not going to put up any kind of fight. Lazy with food now he puts a pathetic kreel up to his human - pick me uuuup!
Fremond's eyebrows wing up and he has to give a more measured look to Saiyah, as though he mistook her age, "You have your own contractors?" Sounding impressed that the youngster has her own business, but also a touch skeptical. "I'm Fremond." Nose crinkled at the delay in offering out his own name. "Sorry, 'bout that." When she speaks of needing to be off he gives a small nod and glances away, out over the stormy sea. His head nods about Bailey's future package-delivery but then frowns, slowly looking at the older of the two, "So, what are they going to pay for this work anyway?"
Saiyah clarifies for Fremond, "My family does. Think of me like... an agent or something. And we'll talk soon, Bailey." With a smile and a little fan of fingers that passes for a wave, the tall tanned girl heads off to another ship, one that, should they be curious enough to check, hails from Big Bay.
Saiyah goes home.
Saiyah has left.
Watching after Saiyah with interest drawn in her gaze for the ship she moves toward, Bailey turns an amused expression over to Fremond, “A regular supply of food for this lot,” her hand moving to encompass their new charges, “Unless of course…you want to be spending your days fishing for it yourself? Figure we have enough on our hands to deal with without adding to it.” As such she scoops up the whining and sleepy bronze, tucks him into the crook of her arm and starts up the gangplank, “There’ll be no working until this rain lets up, so you’re free to do…” giving that a moment’s thought before continuing on, “whatever it is you do on your off days. Of course, you’re welcome to join me for a mug of brandy klah?” A small sneeze punctuates that last.
Fremond's features melt into a more skeptical set on his weather-worn features, "Kids. Don't know that I'd want to trust someone that age with any business dealings." He rubs a hand along his jaw and gives his head a shake, "You know what sort of business she's into?" Only partly interested really. When Bailey announces no work due to rain he barks out a laugh, "Ya softy. I won't say no to a day off though, or a drink if you're actually going to share with me." A glance over at the blue firelizard and the little guy wings over to the old sailor, making a comfortable perch there without need of extra fussing.
Even'Star(#1935R)
Designed with only needing one or two members to crew it, the Even'Star is a modest little vessel of just 55feet long and capable of flying up to five sails at once. Fore-and-aft rigging projects from a single mast that bears a topmast. Currently just one headsail is flying and is strangely festooned with bright fabric flowers, one can only guess at the reasoning for such an outlandish display on an otherwise simply decked out sloop. The chipped and faded black with white trim speaks to this once having been a pretty little vessel and yet while hull and stern are nowhere near their potential glory, the decking is kept meticulously scrubbed and cared for. A singe hatch leads down into cramped private quarters that have been divided into living and make-shift cargo hold, thus petitioning the need for hammocks rather than squander space to the luxury of a bunk.
Contents:
Cabin(#777Aeh)
Obvious exits:
Docks
Cresting the gangplank and moving immediately toward the shelter of the cabin, Bailey pauses on her way down turning a light smirk up to Fremond, “Because you were never a kid yourself once.” Pushing the curtain aside she deposits the sleeping bronze on her bunk and returns towelling herself down with a towel that may or may not look familiar to the older man, “She’s a pretty sharp girl from what I can tell. No idea what their trade is. Plan on looking into it though.” From a shelf a cast iron pot with coals in it is taken down and a kettle of previously prepared klah is set onto it. Speaking from under the towel as she rubs at her hair, amusement clear in her tone, “Shared the rum with you didn’t I?” Hanging the towel over a nearby rail, the brunette leans her hip against the side of the table and puts a considering look over to him before asking, “What happened?” her tone turning down a notch before she adds in low query, “To his wife?” Talk about leapfrogging a conversation!
Fremond smirks faintly, "I don't like to remeber being a child. I made a lot of foolish mistakes. And I wouldn't have given the young-me a business deal either. Except maybe a few long hours in the sun gutting fish. Which I did, if you'd wondered." He crinkles up his nose at the memory though as he follows her up on deck, "I sure as shit wouldn't pay top mark to some wet-behind-the-ear traider at the very least." He pulls off his hat once out of the rain, but doesn't transfer the firelizard napping against the crook of his neck. There's a moment of baffled silence at the change of topic, "Who?"
With an expression that hovers somewhere between a smile and a grimace, “Don’t much like what I remember of being a kid either,” as if that were not just a few turns ago. A faint lift of brow for the snippet of information handed over, and then slightly amused, “Isn’t that what all children of good seafaring families do?” Taking down two mugs, the chipped one Bailey owns now mysteriously joined by another in only slightly better condition. With her back conveniently turned toward Fremond now as she uncorks the half empty bottle of brandy and pours a measure into each mug, she adds simply, “Rio,” by way of explanation.
Fremond's chuckle is a rough sound under his breath, "Unless you come from a real -good- seafaring family. Then you get to hire folks to do it for you." No malice there, just the way of the world. He watches the tinkering around the mugs and settles down into a chair, turning it so he can cross his arms over the chair back. "Rio..." There's a faint 'ah' and his eyes hood. "I'm not sure that's a story I should be telling. A man has a right to his secrets."
A soft snort as Bailey uses the still damp towel to lift the kettle and pour the steaming brew of klah into each mug, “Only people my family ever hired were those not to be trusted alone with so much as a canine.” Taking her time, the only sound in the cabin for a while is the soft chinking of spoon against ceramics as she stirs each mug in turn. Holding one out toward Fremond, the younger woman’s face is at first carefully devoid of expression as she arranges herself into a perch on the edge of the table. Staring down into her mug that is now cradled between two hands, the old man is sent an intent look from under lowered lashes, “I need to know, Fremond,” using his given name for the first time, “But I understand if you don’t wish to break whatever loyalty it is you have to him.” She leaves it up to him to decide as she blows gently across the surface of the steaming brew and then takes a careful sip.
Fremond's gaze sharpens as he watches Bailey, "Don't think my family ever hired anyone. Though if you have the bad luck of hiring only the dregs, I wouldn't bother either." He rests his chin on the crossed arms, only lifting his head when she's offering out the cup to him. There's still an edge to the look he's giving her though, keen and interested. "Alright, I'll bite. Why is it so important you need to know? Ain't seen you around the ship at all since you got back and even I can see you have some hold over Cande. Maybe I should know what game you're playing before I give you any more leverage against him."
Pale eyes easily meet the look coming off of Fremond, the slight tightening of her jaw the only initial response to the hiring of thugs, “Things aren’t always as they should be.” And that’s all she’ll say on the subject for the time being. The scrutiny she receives combined with the question put to her has Bailey taking a longer sip of the mug, a glance flickering to the older man over its edge as she does so. She’ll answer what he may already know first with, “Pissed him off when I called him a cheating bastard,” trying to shrug off her discomfort for that with, “thought he was still married.” Frowning a little now she stares down into her mug, “Don’t know,” honesty there as to why it’s important to her, “Just…he deserves better.” Than her? Than being a widower?
THere's a slight nod of his head to things not being as they should be and a quiet, "Sometimes you just have to brace up and fix what you can and toss out what you can't. But, I'm not one for lecturing and, don't know a thing about you." He looks away, faint disgust showing as his mouth hardens, "One thing Rio ain't--is a cheater. Which, I guess you'd not know having not been around him long enough. And he deserves a whole lot better than the cards he's been drawing recently. Never thought I'd have sympathy for someone born with a silver-spoon but..." His words trail off, budding into a frustrated sigh. "Why you get so angry anyway?"
“’Swhy I left,” Bailey offers through the edges of what might be a small smile. Which quickly drains away and has her swallowing down a rather large gulp of brandied klah at Fremond’s response. Chastened, not a sentiment she wears well, the brunette tries to cover with a small amount of heat injected into her tone, “And I won’t be the cause of a man cheating on his wife!” This maybe lending clue to some of what had fuelled her anger that day, adding in a hard tone, “Take my blade to any man I married that did that to me.” This slips away after another calming sip of brew. Catching her bottom lip for a moment the brunette lifts her chin and states boldly, “I like what I see,” adding with a slightly challenging air, “You got a problem with that?”
"Interesting that a woman would turn a blade on a man for not keeping it in his pants, but a man just has to brace up and put on a brave face if a wife can't keep any random dick from finding her hole." Fremond might be speaking of his employeer, but he may be speaking of himself, or just in general. He sips at the brandied klah, looking less angry than just sad. "You like what you see? In Rio? I have a bit of a problem with it--only for the case that you don't know him and he doesn't need to be played a puppet to anyone."
With another snort, “Not every woman is out to take a man for everything he’s got, you know. Sometimes the man himself is all that is needed.” Says she, the one recently confessed of thieving from Fremond’s employer. It’s the old man’s last that draws a narrow eyed look his way, stating as evenly as possible, “And you assume that’s what I’m doing.” Not a question, a statement. A quick sip from her mug and Bailey is shaking her head slowly in her own gesture of sadness, “Perhaps once you get to know me, you’ll find I’m not quite the sea-hag you seem to think I am.” What is supposed to warm a body from the inside out seems to be having little effect but to turn the brunette’s stomach for soon she’s setting the mug down and is looking decidedly queasy. Muttering in between taking slow deep breaths as she bows her head and tries to make the world stop going round and round and round, “Oh for Faranth’s sake! Not brandy too!” the last a mournful groan. Pushing herself off the edge of the table, she sways and then takes a step in the direction of her sleeping quarters, “I’m…just going to go and check on the little guy,” her firelizard. She doesn’t make it passed another step or two before she’s down and out, flat on the floor.
Fremond tips his chin down but keeps his eyes on Bailey, "Right. So you say." He's not going to argue, but her argument falls on deaf ears. Even his dead-eyed expression answers her, it is exactly what he thinks the woman is doing. "I don't care to get to know....Shit!" He is up out of his seat when the woman crumbles to the floor, his firelizard zipping off his shoulder to flap around the cabin, trumpeting in distress. Quick to action, he's at her side in a blink, crouching down to peer at her in concern.
Had she been conscious, it's likely Bailey would simply have laid a flat look back onto the older man, not about to waste her time defending herself. As it is she misses whatever commotion her close association with the floor brings about and it's a good few moments before eyelashes flutter against cheeks devoid of color. Blink, blink, and then a small start as she finds Fremond -right- there peering down at her, "What did you do to me?" suspicion setting in for how she ended up on the floor.
Fremond hovers over Bailey, putting a strong hand on her shoulder to stop her from getting up to fast. His expression doesn't relax at all when her eyes open, "What did I do? It's your booze. You're the one who made your own drink." Another look over at her, taking in the drained complexion with a deepening frown, "You hurt yourself?"
Bailey only makes it as far as pushing herself up enough to lean her weight onto a hand set flat against the floor before Fremond's hand is stilling further progress. Her other hand lifts to rub at her eyes, suspicion being replaced by confusion, "Must be a bad bottle. Never buy from that trader again!" The brandy she'd used. Peering down at herself she shakes her head slowly, "Don't think so." And then she's wanting to try and get up, her cheeks starting to pinken up again and then deepen into a blushed hue of awkwardness. Striving to try and gloss over the situation, "What were you saying before?"
Fremond doesn't buy it, and his hands continue to try to still her and keep her sitting at least. "That bottle didn't look too full you know, so you didn't have a problem with it before." His eyes move from her to the bottle of booze, or at least that general area, "Maybe you need to take some time to just rest and stick to drinking just water or juice huh?" Mindless of her embarassment he goes around checking her over, "You fell pretty hard." No remark about what they were talking about before, no going onto another topic just yet.
Her mouth opens in protest and then closes again as she can’t rightly deny what it is Fremond says about the bottle of brandy. A near petulant look is shot the older man as he insists on her staying where she is, frowning now, “Had sunstroke before, long ago when I was a littlie, don’t remember it lasting this long.” Yes, because that’s the next best option to bad booze. A mute nod of acquiescence is given in response to the offer of juice as fingers lift and explore a bump to the side of her head that has appeared, “You sure you didn’t smack me over the head or something?” Her tone suggesting she’s only half-serious about that.
Fremond gives Bailey a look of puzzlement, "How long have you been like this? Maybe you need to lay off the booze for a bit until you dry out." As though she's deep in the dregs of the bottle or something. "I see you drinking an awful lot. More than a woman should." In his very best, fatherly tone. At last he does let her get up, but blocks her way to rejoin her cup at the table. "Maybe you aught to lay down huh? I'll see if that bar has some juice and water. Yeah, you gotta drink -water-."
Lifting first one finger, then another, and another, Bailey counts silently as she tries to figure out how long. Fremond however, gets no verbal reply on the matter. Pale eyes narrow, indignation flickering in them, "I'm not some dock lush!" Bailey humphs and then likely contradicts herself by adding with a little sniff, "Could probably drink you under the table!" Back on her feet again, hands smooth down the sides of her still damp skirt, and the older man is treated to an outright display of stubbornness as he blocks her path to her mug, trying to reach passed him, "You're not the boss of me!" So mature! Shaking her head determinedly and with what little pride she can muster, "Not a littlie or an old woman. I'm fine, just need some water." That she'll concede to.
Fremond just looks at Bailey as she on one hand claims not to be a lush and then counters with just as much she can drink. "You need to fucking dry out." He says to her roughly. "Not going to do anyone any good if you're up to your eyes in the liquor. Fuck." He lets her up, standing swiftly himself and he reaches out for her arm, wanting to get her attention back on him when she goes into a tiff. "Actually, right now, I am the boss of you. Because if you go and drink yourself to death, my boss isn't going to be much happy about it. So, I'll save you from yourself if I have to. And you are a child to me, so sit your ass down."
Anger flares and before she can stop the words they come snapping out, “Haven’t had a real drink in -weeks-! Every time I try, I want to throw up!” with some exasperation, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was a conspiracy already in place!” to stop her drinking. And get her attention Fremond does as his fingers find purchase around her upper arm. Lips pull back into the beginnings of a snarl and then retract for the words and tone of voice used, leaving Bailey staring at the older man wide eyed and doing as bidden as she plonks her butt onto a chair. It’s either instinct being taken in hand by a man old enough to be her father, or it’s just that she just doesn’t have the energy to argue any further. She will however, turn a scowl up to her ‘minder’, “Do I get sent to my room now too?”
Fremond's firelizard finally lands back on his shoulder, peering at Bailey warily while the old man gives her a steady look. "I don't know if I'm buying that story. Unless you were deep in the bottle and just taking a bit to dry out. Happen to have nursed a man through that not too long ago. Happy to do so again if I have to too." There's a nod for her as she sits down, moving his hand off her arm. "You gotta have some water to drink first. But some extra sleep wouldn't be too bad either."
That has Bailey looking ready to smack Fremond up side the head, fingers of the one hand curling into a fist, the other seeking out something close at hand to throw at him once he lets go of her. Instead she counters with deep sarcasm, "Yes, because the first time we met, you were in full control of all your senses. And by the way? If that's your normal singing voice and not as a result of some drinking spree? Then tell me now so that I can get myself a pair of earplugs!" More huffy than irate. Pulling her knees up and hooking her heels on the edge of the chair she sits on the brunette wraps her arms about her legs and sighs softly in a highly put upon manner, "Fine, I'll drink some water, but I'm not going to sleep."
Seeing Bailey's look, the old man hunches down, as though he's expecting this to come to blows, "You better think real long and hard before you go hitting me. I'm not your boyfriend and I'll put you over my knee and give you the spanking you need." He smirks at the reminder of his drinking, "YEeeaaahh, well, I wasn't passing out on my feet either. So, lets not go and turn this about me." Straightening slowly, there's a moment of hate for her brimming in his expression but thankfully he doesn't turn his head and spit, although it's easy to see the thought is crossing his mind. "I'll be right back with that water."
Smirking deeply at words of a spanking, Bailey taunts with “Promise?” That expression lingers and then turns into yet another scowl for the hateful look Fremond sends her. She says nothing of it however simply nodding and adding in a moody tone as she lifts a hand to wave him off on his water errand, “Whatever.” Sulky brat! Waiting for him to return, the brunette lays her cheek against her knees, pale eyes flickering a time or two until they slowly slide shut and the weary woman is soon asleep, seated exactly as he left her.