Log: Tables and brats.
IC: Day 6, month 11, turn 22 of Interval 10.
RL: 2010.05.25
Bailey touches base with Evaly. Potential business ventures are touched upon.
Garden and Pool, Ista Weyr(#456RJ)
From bowl to waterfall, the gardens of Ista stretch out across the plateau. Nearest the bowl are the practical plants--the herbs and crops and an orchard of fruit trees--but the closer to the stream one ventures, the more fanciful the foliage becomes. Lush dark leaves, flowers as big as a hand, jungle creepers hanging from old-growth trees--like most of Ista, the plant life grows rampant here, everything outsized and richly green. The streambanks in particular are impressively overgrown, until every rock is moss-covered and pockets of still water in pools on the banks teem with algae.
Only the waterfall itself seems to have escaped the onslaught of flora, cutting a channel through the rock and falling toward the pool below. The craggy cliffs leading downward post a number of places to sit and swing your feet, or to wade in the shallow puddles that collect in dips in rocks and around the edges of the water. For all the cliffs and their outcroppings, however, the best way down is still the steep, slick stairs switchbacking down the rock face.
In the midst of the garden lawn, a large pavillion sits, often a hub of activity in the area.
Contents:
Evaly
Obvious exits:
Plateau Pavillion Cliffside Stairs
The thunderheads that have been piling up all day haven't quite broken in the promised downpour yet, though the weather-wise have already packed up and headed indoors to avoid the rain. Evaly, perhaps among the weather-wise and perhaps not, remains in the grass still, resting on her hands with the appearance of a person who's already had quite the morning - legs kicked out in front of her, sandals off, sweat drying, stains of greenery on her hands and feet. 'Whew' might sum it up for her.
Amongst those still and about, even in the face of an imminent downpour, is Bailey, ambling along a pathway, seemingly lost in thought. Her attire this day, not quite as revealing an affair as the brunette is known to wear. The long length of blue and white fabric wound about her frame, has its top ends crossing over her chest and then tied into a simple knot at the back of her neck. Her introspection is such that initially Evaly’s presence isn’t noted. Not until the brunette is almost right on top of her. Footsteps stumble as her brain catches up with them “Oh. Jays!”
"Do you know," Evaly begins, having maintained silence the entire time that Bailey was just about to walk right over the top of her, "how many people do that? It's almost like no one around here pays attention to where they're walking." Nor does she make the effort to remove herself from the paths of impending collisions. She draws her legs up only after the danger has passed, the rest of her still flopped back on the grass, and adds as an afterthought, "Mark for your thoughts, though."
Having collected herself together, amusement flairs as she waves a hand over Evaly’s chosen location, “So this is like some kind of survey you’re doing then? To see how many people fall over you, and which don’t?” Crossing her ankles, Bailey drops down into a cross-legged position next to the blonde. One can only hope the presence of two will alert other mindless amblers. Turning a crooked smile onto the other woman, the brunette remarks on her thoughts, “They’re not worth that much. Though if you have a mark spare that’s needing a new home I’m sure I could come up with something gossip worthy enough?”
Head cocked a little, Evaly ponders before answering, "No, but it might be a worthwhile study. The Propensity of Islanders to Be So Lost In Their Thoughts That They Walk All Over People?" The capital letters are implied in the grandiose tone she employs, though her fingers flick dismissively almost immediately afterward. No, maybe not. "I'm trying to stay out of the gossip business. Though, the way things are going, if secrets are what's selling? I should probably get in on it. /I/ could use the money. How are you?"
Amusement becomes laughter for Evaly's response. With a fairly good act of sincerity for her next, "Whether one serves from the right or the left at a table for one, takes some fairly serious mulling over, you know." As much as she herself will use whatever information crosses her path as and when the need arises, there's a definite look of approval for the blonde's response to gossiping. Plucking at a blade of grass and setting it between her teeth, the sea-trader offers a dark chuckle, "The only problem with peddling secrets is that sooner or later, its one of your own that might come to light and be up for trade." Shrugging that off with a little twitch of shoulder, a small silence forms with her flickering a sidelong stray of eyes the other's way and then back down to where fingers trace along the hem of her sarong. Finally, "Been okay. Got a job waiting tables at the Beachhouse," which is where she should probably be round about now, "Even'Star's almost ready to come out of the dry docks. Basically just figuring stuff out and how it all fits together." With a pointed look over the candidate now, "Heard your path might be set to land on an entirely different course?"
Evaly, with a sly twitch of her brows, counters, "Only if you have any in the first place. Or if you have any that you're foolish enough to let slip." No telling into which category she counts herself, especially as the twitched brows turned to knitted brows and she pushes up on her elbows partially, frowning. "Waiting tables? Really? Why?" The tone is kind of like 'why you in particular,' but she doesn't get the whole phrase out. Distracted by this, she only shrugs at the mention of her candidacy, heedless right now.
Through a smirk, “And therein lies the trick,” walking that fine line between keeping your own secrets while drawing them out of others. Evaly’s reaction draws a surprised blink next and then a slight frown, “Why not? Paddy needs the help, I need the extra marks. And besides, it’s only four days out seven and then on a two month trial basis.” The light smudge marks of tiredness under her eyes perhaps accounting for the slightly snippy tone used. And no, Bailey’s not giving up that easily, pressing the topic, “What’s happening with your business while you’re playing unpaid drudge for the Weyr?”
"You're that hard up for cash?" Evaly reasons - waiting tables apparently pretty low on her list of ways to earn a few bucks. Considering how hung-up she is on money... Anyway, before she totally winds up seeming like she's just relegated Bailey to the lowest of the low, she answers that latter question with a bright, "No idea. My dad was not pleased, to say the least, so I think he's got someone else fronting for him now. I," importantly, "have decided to pursue the business of firelizard eggs. Did you ever get one for your man?"
The frown makes a brief appearance and then is banished with the roll of one shoulder, “Got a few unexpected expenses coming up. Just like to be sure I have all my bases covered.” Said with such ease one might be forgiven for thinking it was a practiced line. Bailey’s brow smoothes out and she’s putting forward a soft chuckle, “I can imagine he wouldn’t be. Losing someone so adept at marketing his wares as you are.” With a snap of fingers, “Which reminds me, I was wanting something in particular for someone and was wondering…” the words fall away and she’s left simply staring at Evaly. Clearing her throat as she clarifies the term used, “My…man?” The issue of firelizard eggs buried beneath the ‘ownership’ the blonde so readily gives her.
With a snicker, flopping back into the grass again, Evaly answers, "Unless it's slave labor, you're asking the wrong person. That seems to be the only thing I can be sure to deliver at the moment. And even then..." She nods to indicate her utter slackness at the moment, not even that's altogether reliable. "You know who I'm talking about," she answers without hesitation or doubt, not even sly this time, just 'let's not be silly.'
A chuckle meets Evaly’s snicker, her next words carrying only a tiny hint of disappointment, “Pity that. Some of those hair combs you had on display were really pretty. She would have liked them.” Ah well. Lips curve into a mischievous grin as pale eyes flow over the slacking candidate, “Just tell them you’re practicing taking the appropriate rest needed when one is dealing with a young dragon. Seeing as how everywhere I go, all I hear about is how this is supposed to be for your own good and to be seen as a training ground should you impress.” That said, Bailey turns a looong look -away- from the blonde, eventually turning her attention back to her, she nods, her tone turned down a notch or two, “Aye,” she knows who she’s talking about. The edge of a small smile appears as she broaches the subject, “Got him a whole clutch of them actually. Left me an egg when he sailed. Damn thing hatched too.”
"I think you can still get them, just - it's not my booth any more." Evaly shrugs helplessly, a slight shift of her shoulders in the grass. "I really ought to get into that market, making jewelry. Or perfume. Or both." Oh, the ambitious youth. Moving on; "You gave him a whole clutch? Shells, no wonder you don't have any money. Do you know how much those things are worth on the open market? I expect to make a killing. As soon as I find a clutch." As soon as she gets off her butt.
With a firm nod, “Both. Your perfume is really lovely!” Thus admitting to owning some of it herself. Wry the short laugh that is delivered on the price of firelizard eggs, “It…was complicated.” The reasons she didn’t end up selling some of the eggs. Sure interest colours Bailey’s features, turning slightly in order to better capture Evaly’s attention, “I can take you to where I found the last clutch. But then we split the profits fifty-fifty.”
From the side of her mouth, Evaly points out, "It's not my perfume. I was reading about it the other day, in my copious spare time." So hard to tell if she means that ironically or not. "And I think I could probably figure it out, once this candidacy business is settled. Once I'm settled after this candidacy business." So jazzed, this one. "You want to take me to where you found a clutch that's not there any more, presumably so I can continue tramping out there every day to keep looking, and then take half the profits? Ten percent, babe. That's worth ten percent."
The confession draws a low chuckle from Bailey, “Perhaps not made by your own hand, no. But still good nonetheless. Perhaps you should start that garden of yours and put something together with what grows from it. Name it simply ‘E’.” As if she could daydream Evaly’s future business hopes into existence. Brows hike upward in a ‘come on now’ expression, “Take you to where the last clutch was found because the dam is likely to choose to nest nearby next time round. Take you there, because that island was fairly heaving with ‘lizards. Fifty percent, darling. Unless you know how to sail,” smirk.
"And give you fifty percent for naming the business?" Evaly teases, slanting over a look merry enough to take any edge off the words. "I know how to swim?" she counters, paddling her toes in the grass like that will prove how good she is at the swimming business. "We'll see," she concludes with regards to the firelizard island, not willing to commit to so steep a price. Cheap cheap cheap. "If I don't find anything on my own between now and the time the Weyr's not paying for my room and board, we'll see."
Grinning, “Ten percent,” for naming the business. Laughter spills out, “You may want to take a gander at the surfboards on sale at the market if you plan on paddling all the way out there. Not to mention the sea monsters and pirates that would make a meal of you.” Unfolding her legs and stretching them out before her, Bailey sets her hands behind her, lifting her face up to what little sun chinks through the gathering clouds here and there. A soft, tired sounding exhale of breath, “You change your mind, and you let me know. Though this offer has a limited time period on it.”
Certain; "There are no sea monsters off the coast of this island. If there were, I assure you, I would have found one, skinned it, and sold the pelt by now." Evaly kens to the weariness behind the sigh, her forehead creasing for a second in something like concern when she adds, "Don't let my cheapness get you down. If I won't take your bait, someone will, I'm sure. There are a dozen weyrbrates chomping the bit to find firelizard eggs, just enlist one of them if you really want it done?"
Laughter again, tired or otherwise, encompasses all that Evaly says. Dropping her head down a warmer look fits onto the blonde along with a slight shake of head, “You’re not cheap. Just got a good head on your shoulders,” which she likes. Pushing forward out of her lean, hands are lightly dusted together to remove any blades of grass stuck to them and then Bailey’s gathering her legs up under her, making ready to stand. With a small wrinkle of nose, “Not up for a bunch of hyper-active, squabbling weyrbrats under my feet right now, thanks. Perhaps later. Maybe I’ll take Fremond, or Rio,” shrugging as she eventually comes to her feet, “I’ll see.”
"Just take them with you and cut them loose?" Evaly suggests, clearly starting to weigh the merits of this plan for herself. "Weyrbrats ought to work cheap, you'd figure, and it would sure save a lot of clamoring around in the heat." Not that she's doing any of that at the moment, not even roused to stand when Bailey looks to be doing so herself. "But maybe you'll take Fremond - " In a 'whoever that is' tone. " - or Rio. My goodness, it must be nice to have friends in high places. Or at least ones with sails."
A grin flickers in and out, dropping off as she pinpoints a flaw in the plan, “Aye, but then I’d have to be explaining to a bunch of dragonriders about the selling of firelizard eggs. Way I hear it; they’re none too pleased about such things.” As to the two men named, Bailey’s expression turns amused, her words likely the most open spoken on the topic of Orchid Rain’s captain yet, “Lover appointed minder.” She’ll leave Evaly to figure out which is which. A wink precedes her next, “You should know,” this to having friends with sails. Now she’s putting a regretful look down onto the candidate, “I should be going. Paddy’s probably having kittens and puppies by now.” Its clear that she’d much rather stay, and do a whole lot of nothing alongside the blonde.
That being news to Evaly, she ponders it for a second with pursed lips, then decides, "Well, they just won't be invited to purchase them, will they?" Really working on that whole 'not getting into other people's business' plan of hers, she doesn't look to be spending too much thought on which is the lover and which is the minder, only lifts a hand from behind her head with particular indolence. "Good luck with the waiting tables. I'd rather deal with the weyrbrats, personally."
“Kids tend to shoot their mouths off. Questions will be asked,” Bailey points out on the issue of involving anyone attached to ‘riders in the securing of firelizard eggs. She’s also not particularly worried whether Evaly figures it out or not. Not exactly a secret, but happy not to have to go into any of it too much at this point. Wiggling fingers in farewell, her comment floats back over her shoulder, “Weyrbrats don’t give tips.” Hence her preference for waiting tables. And then she’s off, toward said tables, head down in that same pre-occupied gait of earlier.
Evaly stays where she is. In case firelizard eggs magically fall out of the air for her to collect. (Not likely.)
RL: 2010.05.25
Bailey touches base with Evaly. Potential business ventures are touched upon.
Garden and Pool, Ista Weyr(#456RJ)
From bowl to waterfall, the gardens of Ista stretch out across the plateau. Nearest the bowl are the practical plants--the herbs and crops and an orchard of fruit trees--but the closer to the stream one ventures, the more fanciful the foliage becomes. Lush dark leaves, flowers as big as a hand, jungle creepers hanging from old-growth trees--like most of Ista, the plant life grows rampant here, everything outsized and richly green. The streambanks in particular are impressively overgrown, until every rock is moss-covered and pockets of still water in pools on the banks teem with algae.
Only the waterfall itself seems to have escaped the onslaught of flora, cutting a channel through the rock and falling toward the pool below. The craggy cliffs leading downward post a number of places to sit and swing your feet, or to wade in the shallow puddles that collect in dips in rocks and around the edges of the water. For all the cliffs and their outcroppings, however, the best way down is still the steep, slick stairs switchbacking down the rock face.
In the midst of the garden lawn, a large pavillion sits, often a hub of activity in the area.
Contents:
Evaly
Obvious exits:
Plateau Pavillion Cliffside Stairs
The thunderheads that have been piling up all day haven't quite broken in the promised downpour yet, though the weather-wise have already packed up and headed indoors to avoid the rain. Evaly, perhaps among the weather-wise and perhaps not, remains in the grass still, resting on her hands with the appearance of a person who's already had quite the morning - legs kicked out in front of her, sandals off, sweat drying, stains of greenery on her hands and feet. 'Whew' might sum it up for her.
Amongst those still and about, even in the face of an imminent downpour, is Bailey, ambling along a pathway, seemingly lost in thought. Her attire this day, not quite as revealing an affair as the brunette is known to wear. The long length of blue and white fabric wound about her frame, has its top ends crossing over her chest and then tied into a simple knot at the back of her neck. Her introspection is such that initially Evaly’s presence isn’t noted. Not until the brunette is almost right on top of her. Footsteps stumble as her brain catches up with them “Oh. Jays!”
"Do you know," Evaly begins, having maintained silence the entire time that Bailey was just about to walk right over the top of her, "how many people do that? It's almost like no one around here pays attention to where they're walking." Nor does she make the effort to remove herself from the paths of impending collisions. She draws her legs up only after the danger has passed, the rest of her still flopped back on the grass, and adds as an afterthought, "Mark for your thoughts, though."
Having collected herself together, amusement flairs as she waves a hand over Evaly’s chosen location, “So this is like some kind of survey you’re doing then? To see how many people fall over you, and which don’t?” Crossing her ankles, Bailey drops down into a cross-legged position next to the blonde. One can only hope the presence of two will alert other mindless amblers. Turning a crooked smile onto the other woman, the brunette remarks on her thoughts, “They’re not worth that much. Though if you have a mark spare that’s needing a new home I’m sure I could come up with something gossip worthy enough?”
Head cocked a little, Evaly ponders before answering, "No, but it might be a worthwhile study. The Propensity of Islanders to Be So Lost In Their Thoughts That They Walk All Over People?" The capital letters are implied in the grandiose tone she employs, though her fingers flick dismissively almost immediately afterward. No, maybe not. "I'm trying to stay out of the gossip business. Though, the way things are going, if secrets are what's selling? I should probably get in on it. /I/ could use the money. How are you?"
Amusement becomes laughter for Evaly's response. With a fairly good act of sincerity for her next, "Whether one serves from the right or the left at a table for one, takes some fairly serious mulling over, you know." As much as she herself will use whatever information crosses her path as and when the need arises, there's a definite look of approval for the blonde's response to gossiping. Plucking at a blade of grass and setting it between her teeth, the sea-trader offers a dark chuckle, "The only problem with peddling secrets is that sooner or later, its one of your own that might come to light and be up for trade." Shrugging that off with a little twitch of shoulder, a small silence forms with her flickering a sidelong stray of eyes the other's way and then back down to where fingers trace along the hem of her sarong. Finally, "Been okay. Got a job waiting tables at the Beachhouse," which is where she should probably be round about now, "Even'Star's almost ready to come out of the dry docks. Basically just figuring stuff out and how it all fits together." With a pointed look over the candidate now, "Heard your path might be set to land on an entirely different course?"
Evaly, with a sly twitch of her brows, counters, "Only if you have any in the first place. Or if you have any that you're foolish enough to let slip." No telling into which category she counts herself, especially as the twitched brows turned to knitted brows and she pushes up on her elbows partially, frowning. "Waiting tables? Really? Why?" The tone is kind of like 'why you in particular,' but she doesn't get the whole phrase out. Distracted by this, she only shrugs at the mention of her candidacy, heedless right now.
Through a smirk, “And therein lies the trick,” walking that fine line between keeping your own secrets while drawing them out of others. Evaly’s reaction draws a surprised blink next and then a slight frown, “Why not? Paddy needs the help, I need the extra marks. And besides, it’s only four days out seven and then on a two month trial basis.” The light smudge marks of tiredness under her eyes perhaps accounting for the slightly snippy tone used. And no, Bailey’s not giving up that easily, pressing the topic, “What’s happening with your business while you’re playing unpaid drudge for the Weyr?”
"You're that hard up for cash?" Evaly reasons - waiting tables apparently pretty low on her list of ways to earn a few bucks. Considering how hung-up she is on money... Anyway, before she totally winds up seeming like she's just relegated Bailey to the lowest of the low, she answers that latter question with a bright, "No idea. My dad was not pleased, to say the least, so I think he's got someone else fronting for him now. I," importantly, "have decided to pursue the business of firelizard eggs. Did you ever get one for your man?"
The frown makes a brief appearance and then is banished with the roll of one shoulder, “Got a few unexpected expenses coming up. Just like to be sure I have all my bases covered.” Said with such ease one might be forgiven for thinking it was a practiced line. Bailey’s brow smoothes out and she’s putting forward a soft chuckle, “I can imagine he wouldn’t be. Losing someone so adept at marketing his wares as you are.” With a snap of fingers, “Which reminds me, I was wanting something in particular for someone and was wondering…” the words fall away and she’s left simply staring at Evaly. Clearing her throat as she clarifies the term used, “My…man?” The issue of firelizard eggs buried beneath the ‘ownership’ the blonde so readily gives her.
With a snicker, flopping back into the grass again, Evaly answers, "Unless it's slave labor, you're asking the wrong person. That seems to be the only thing I can be sure to deliver at the moment. And even then..." She nods to indicate her utter slackness at the moment, not even that's altogether reliable. "You know who I'm talking about," she answers without hesitation or doubt, not even sly this time, just 'let's not be silly.'
A chuckle meets Evaly’s snicker, her next words carrying only a tiny hint of disappointment, “Pity that. Some of those hair combs you had on display were really pretty. She would have liked them.” Ah well. Lips curve into a mischievous grin as pale eyes flow over the slacking candidate, “Just tell them you’re practicing taking the appropriate rest needed when one is dealing with a young dragon. Seeing as how everywhere I go, all I hear about is how this is supposed to be for your own good and to be seen as a training ground should you impress.” That said, Bailey turns a looong look -away- from the blonde, eventually turning her attention back to her, she nods, her tone turned down a notch or two, “Aye,” she knows who she’s talking about. The edge of a small smile appears as she broaches the subject, “Got him a whole clutch of them actually. Left me an egg when he sailed. Damn thing hatched too.”
"I think you can still get them, just - it's not my booth any more." Evaly shrugs helplessly, a slight shift of her shoulders in the grass. "I really ought to get into that market, making jewelry. Or perfume. Or both." Oh, the ambitious youth. Moving on; "You gave him a whole clutch? Shells, no wonder you don't have any money. Do you know how much those things are worth on the open market? I expect to make a killing. As soon as I find a clutch." As soon as she gets off her butt.
With a firm nod, “Both. Your perfume is really lovely!” Thus admitting to owning some of it herself. Wry the short laugh that is delivered on the price of firelizard eggs, “It…was complicated.” The reasons she didn’t end up selling some of the eggs. Sure interest colours Bailey’s features, turning slightly in order to better capture Evaly’s attention, “I can take you to where I found the last clutch. But then we split the profits fifty-fifty.”
From the side of her mouth, Evaly points out, "It's not my perfume. I was reading about it the other day, in my copious spare time." So hard to tell if she means that ironically or not. "And I think I could probably figure it out, once this candidacy business is settled. Once I'm settled after this candidacy business." So jazzed, this one. "You want to take me to where you found a clutch that's not there any more, presumably so I can continue tramping out there every day to keep looking, and then take half the profits? Ten percent, babe. That's worth ten percent."
The confession draws a low chuckle from Bailey, “Perhaps not made by your own hand, no. But still good nonetheless. Perhaps you should start that garden of yours and put something together with what grows from it. Name it simply ‘E’.” As if she could daydream Evaly’s future business hopes into existence. Brows hike upward in a ‘come on now’ expression, “Take you to where the last clutch was found because the dam is likely to choose to nest nearby next time round. Take you there, because that island was fairly heaving with ‘lizards. Fifty percent, darling. Unless you know how to sail,” smirk.
"And give you fifty percent for naming the business?" Evaly teases, slanting over a look merry enough to take any edge off the words. "I know how to swim?" she counters, paddling her toes in the grass like that will prove how good she is at the swimming business. "We'll see," she concludes with regards to the firelizard island, not willing to commit to so steep a price. Cheap cheap cheap. "If I don't find anything on my own between now and the time the Weyr's not paying for my room and board, we'll see."
Grinning, “Ten percent,” for naming the business. Laughter spills out, “You may want to take a gander at the surfboards on sale at the market if you plan on paddling all the way out there. Not to mention the sea monsters and pirates that would make a meal of you.” Unfolding her legs and stretching them out before her, Bailey sets her hands behind her, lifting her face up to what little sun chinks through the gathering clouds here and there. A soft, tired sounding exhale of breath, “You change your mind, and you let me know. Though this offer has a limited time period on it.”
Certain; "There are no sea monsters off the coast of this island. If there were, I assure you, I would have found one, skinned it, and sold the pelt by now." Evaly kens to the weariness behind the sigh, her forehead creasing for a second in something like concern when she adds, "Don't let my cheapness get you down. If I won't take your bait, someone will, I'm sure. There are a dozen weyrbrates chomping the bit to find firelizard eggs, just enlist one of them if you really want it done?"
Laughter again, tired or otherwise, encompasses all that Evaly says. Dropping her head down a warmer look fits onto the blonde along with a slight shake of head, “You’re not cheap. Just got a good head on your shoulders,” which she likes. Pushing forward out of her lean, hands are lightly dusted together to remove any blades of grass stuck to them and then Bailey’s gathering her legs up under her, making ready to stand. With a small wrinkle of nose, “Not up for a bunch of hyper-active, squabbling weyrbrats under my feet right now, thanks. Perhaps later. Maybe I’ll take Fremond, or Rio,” shrugging as she eventually comes to her feet, “I’ll see.”
"Just take them with you and cut them loose?" Evaly suggests, clearly starting to weigh the merits of this plan for herself. "Weyrbrats ought to work cheap, you'd figure, and it would sure save a lot of clamoring around in the heat." Not that she's doing any of that at the moment, not even roused to stand when Bailey looks to be doing so herself. "But maybe you'll take Fremond - " In a 'whoever that is' tone. " - or Rio. My goodness, it must be nice to have friends in high places. Or at least ones with sails."
A grin flickers in and out, dropping off as she pinpoints a flaw in the plan, “Aye, but then I’d have to be explaining to a bunch of dragonriders about the selling of firelizard eggs. Way I hear it; they’re none too pleased about such things.” As to the two men named, Bailey’s expression turns amused, her words likely the most open spoken on the topic of Orchid Rain’s captain yet, “Lover appointed minder.” She’ll leave Evaly to figure out which is which. A wink precedes her next, “You should know,” this to having friends with sails. Now she’s putting a regretful look down onto the candidate, “I should be going. Paddy’s probably having kittens and puppies by now.” Its clear that she’d much rather stay, and do a whole lot of nothing alongside the blonde.
That being news to Evaly, she ponders it for a second with pursed lips, then decides, "Well, they just won't be invited to purchase them, will they?" Really working on that whole 'not getting into other people's business' plan of hers, she doesn't look to be spending too much thought on which is the lover and which is the minder, only lifts a hand from behind her head with particular indolence. "Good luck with the waiting tables. I'd rather deal with the weyrbrats, personally."
“Kids tend to shoot their mouths off. Questions will be asked,” Bailey points out on the issue of involving anyone attached to ‘riders in the securing of firelizard eggs. She’s also not particularly worried whether Evaly figures it out or not. Not exactly a secret, but happy not to have to go into any of it too much at this point. Wiggling fingers in farewell, her comment floats back over her shoulder, “Weyrbrats don’t give tips.” Hence her preference for waiting tables. And then she’s off, toward said tables, head down in that same pre-occupied gait of earlier.
Evaly stays where she is. In case firelizard eggs magically fall out of the air for her to collect. (Not likely.)