Log: Blackmail
Summary: Durskey and Turiph come to visit June at her tavern, to strike a deal while they're keeping an eye on her for other reasons. (And no, this isn't a scene with myself; Skinner was kind enough to NPC, everyone give him <3)
Location: The Lucky Seven, Ista Weyr
Date: 9-7-09
Night gently sweeps in from the east to at last put the sun to bed, a few eager stars hastening on the vibrantly colored lullaby. The air is abuzz with jungle bugs welcoming the twilight breeze, the chorus even thicker around the backoning light that emanates from The Lucky Seven. For, young as the evening is, the girls have opened for business, the double doors thrown open and a few decicated barflys milling around the main floor. A buzz of another kind comes from inside the game room, punctuated by the knock of billiard balls which indicates a game or tournament of some kind underway. Livi and Ruesse man the bar at this early hour, but it's a standby job right now, as it's still too early for refills. June tends to the tables, a rag in one hand. Her conversation with one of the more dependable regulars falls off and she slips away, angling for another small group of men.
But maybe she'll let herself be distracted, when a sandy-haired man who's been patiently waiting out her conversation with the other customer lifts his hand. He gives a short whistle to attract her attention, in case the hand wasn't enough, and turns on a grin to await her eye. "Mind comin' over here a second? My friend here spilled his drink, oaf that he is." The thick-bodied man next to him grunts but doesn't comment. What's left of his drink, a good half, he lifts up so he can finish.
June orients on the whistle and turns herself toward it, a similar attention spared by a few of her sisters as well. But when June deviates from her original target to help them, the rest return to the tasks they've busied themselves with. The smile she gives to the sandy-haired man is an open, friendly one, one she shares with his bigger friend shortly after, when she's reached the table. "No worry," she assures the proclaimed oaf, leaning over with her rag at the ready to mop up the spill. What she doesn't get just soaks into the table cloth, a slightly sticky spot that June ignores. "Happens all the time." One last swipe and she straightens, free hand going to her hip. "You fellows enjoying yourselves?"
The older man's gaze shifts down when June bends over, getting a load of her cleavage. "Oh, we certainly are! Good beer, good games. Nicest little tavern around, isn't it, Durskey?" "It's nice," Durskey agrees as he re-emerges from his drink. He looks at the sticky spot and decides his mug goes there, to block it. "This is a new place, isn't it?" Turiph continues pleasantly. "Seems to be doing well."
June listens as attentively as any bartender should, nodding her head faintly along with what they say, then stronger to confirm. "Yes. Not even a year yet. Let's see... nearly nine months," she tells them, as proud of it as she might be of a baby produced in just as much time. It's followed by a note of modesty, "And we're getting along. Are you two new to the area, then? Or sailors?"
"Only nine months?" The older man looks around admiringly. "And it's so well put together." "We've been around," Durskey cuts in firmly, breaking off the flattery. "Haven't come here before, though." "And you're a sharp eye to spot it," Turiph continues, dedicated to his flattery. He even winks at June. But he leans an arm on the table and gives her a little wave of the hand, come closer. "Would I be right to guess that you're the proprietress?" His eyes flick upwards, squinting at her red hair, then return with a smile.
And June does come closer. That hand on her hip transfers to a spot of table not far from where Durskey sits and she leans a bit into the space in front of him to put her ear, and consequently a flash of cleavage, closer to his partner. "You have a good eye," she returns flattery for flattery, smile brightening again. "I am."
Turiph's smile spreads for her flattery, showing off a gap in the bottom where one of his teeth has gone missing. It's a charming incongruity. "Well, thank you. Truth is I had a little help. Look for the gorgeous redhead," he explains, turning that smile lopsided. "And you're the /only/ redhead," Durskey puts in, not so flatteringly. His voice sounds a little hard, in fact. Turiph ignores him. "You see, I heard - forgive me if I heard wrong - you have a certain kind of sympathy for a man who's looking for company."
Maintaining that lean, June glances over at Durskey, giving him a scrunch of her eyes for the comment she takes all in good fun. That green-eyed gaze returns soon to Turiph, though, her eyebrows slipping a little higher. "I can be sympathetic enough, if there are marks involved." Just how many marks is quoted next, an amount on the high end of reasonable, with a tone that dips only slightly into a business-like brusqueness. "Up front," she specifies before her voice warms up again. "And which one of you is the one looking for company?" she asks, passing a flirtatious look over each of them in turn, though her look ends and lingers longer on Turiph, the more enthusiastic of the two.
"That'd be me," Turiph volunteers, sure enough. Just to keep things friendly, he even points a finger at himself and introduces, "Turiph." He digs into his pocket and rustles around for a bit, putting out most of the fee June quoted at him. While he counts the marks, and realizes they're going to come up short, he gives his partner a hard nudge with his elbow. Durskey glowers at him, but he fishes the remainder out of his own pocket and throws it at the pile. "There we are." He pushes the marks across the table to June.
"Turiph," the tavern owner repeats for her own benefit, then adds her own introduction, "I'm June." She backs a step out of her lean, leaving them their space to fish and fumble for marks while she waits with arms crossed. As soon as the correct amount surfaces, it's double-checked with a quick eye and transferred to her hand. "Alright," she says, moving her way around the bulk of Durskey to sidle up next to his partner, linking her arm with his and ushering him to stand if he hasn't already. "This is how things work," she explains, something added on top of the friendliness in her tone, her manner, a certain fondness that's surely feigned but sounds good all the same. Durskey is ignored now, as she escorts Turiph the short way to the bar. "You take your key and go up to the room it belongs to." She motions at the stairs with her chin. "I come up a minute later, with a beer for you. And then we can have some fun." At the bar now, she slips behind it to find a key for him, instructing him when she does, "Third door," and smiling to send him on his way.
Turiph does get up in time to link arms with her, crossing his other hand to rest on top of hers. "Enjoy your people-watching," he tells Durskey before letting June lead him away. The other man gives him a narrow look, but he cocks his chair back and does indeed seem to be keeping an eye on the room at large. If that eye strays more often to the girls working here than the men ordering from them, surely that's not much of a surprise. "And who doesn't like fun?" Turiph asks rhetorically, when June promises they'll have some in the room she indicated. He takes his key with a little waggle and disappears up the steps, there to wait for June. He'll be inspecting the furnishing when she comes in, hands demurely locked behind his back like a patron at an art gallery.
Turiph will pass Chidiree at the top of the stairs as he goes, and if he's done his research, he won't have to wonder at her presence. She's the sentry, another girl is already at work. She gives him no more than a glance as he climbs, keeping out of his way and silent while she watches the sparse crowd below. June enters the room with a knock less than five minutes later, that promised beer, open and ready, in her hand. She sets it on the small table with a wordless smile then goes right up to her newest client, twining fingers into the folds of shirt at his waist to draw herself closer. "Now," she says, eyes springing to meet his, that same fondness blooming in her smile, "what were you looking for tonight?"
Hearing the door open, Turiph turns around with his smile at the ready. Dallying, naughtily, in that artificial flush of affection, he lets her draw herself pretty close before he says, "Actually, I was hoping we could fit in a little business before pleasure." Reaching down, he plucks her hands from his shirt and steps back towards the table with her, opening his own hand towards in it and inviting her to sit. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble from a guy named Kozec." Whatever her response to that name, and his knowing it, Turiph's prepared to downplay it. He reaches calmly for his drink and takes the seat opposite the one he invited June to.
The unexpected introduction of business stalls June's affections as quickly as flipping a switch, confusion instead of good humor squinting her eyes and a tensed alertness taking the place of her soft smile. "I keep finding more and more people that know him," she utters dryly, not at all pleased and all the more wary now that he's shown his knowledge of Kozec. But she sits, gracefully, and stares across at him, brows brewing slowly into a frown. "Trouble, yes," she confirms then with a distracted nod of her head, though it's more just a prompt for him to continue.
Turiph offers her a slip of a smile to help calm that wary look. "Well, nobody wants you to have trouble, June. We're going to see to it that you never have to worry about Kozec again." Something about the way he says 'we' suggests more than just him and Durskey. The man reaches for his open beer and presses it to his chin. "In fact, we already have."
June is careful about not looking too interested as his explanation unravels, but when he mentions that the deed is already done, her frown breaks momentarily for a bit of surprise. "And how have you," she puts some stress on the word, too, letting him know she noticed the broader meaning, "done that, exactly?"
"I wouldn't worry about that," Turiph suggests. "All you need to know is he won't be coming back. I promise you that," he tells her, smiling that charmingly asymmetric smile with that now questionably missing tooth. He tips his beer up and takes a drink, just enough to wet his lips. "That's not all I can do for you, either."
June is over the charm. Her arms cross at her waist and her frown looms into being again as he talks. She lets Kozec's fate go unanswered, though, lets him go on. She waits a beat after he's finished, waiting for an addition or explanation of just what that could be, but when none comes, she resorts to prompting him. Without a smile to mirror his but in a tone that's still warily calm, she says, "Then tell me."
That his charm has worn off her doesn't seem to matter, because charm just seems to be part of Turiph's nature. For the moment. "My friend downstairs, that's Durskey, did a little asking around about your place. That's how we learned about your extra comforts," he tells her, putting the slightest pause before the words to emphasize the illicit nature of said extras. "But he /also/ learned the Weyrwoman doesn't know. And that she probably wouldn't like it." Turiph rolls his eyes up and gives a little shake of his head, as if he can't comprehend such an attitude. "We'd like to help keep her from finding out. But that runs into money."
There's no change in June's expression when that little business proposition unfurls; her frown doesn't deepen or startle away in surprise, her mouth remains in a calm line and her eyes just blink blankly. A poker face, of sorts. Her response is simple, cut and dry. "How much?"
Turiph turns his gaze heavenward, tapping the neck of the bottle against the gap in his teeth. "Let's see, what did Durskey say? He's the one that's good with numbers. I think ten percent." His gaze returns to her with a smile in tow. "Monthly. That's not too bad."
But June isn't about to meet that gaze, her own flicks away to focus on a spot of wall across the room, perhaps running some numbers through her head now. "Fine," she finally agrees, the syllable seeming too heavy for her light voice. Only then do her eyes come back to meet his gaze squarely. "Are you and your... partner the ones who I'll be paying?" she asks, the severity of her tone lessened somewhat in preference of a more frank approach.
"Me and Durskey," Turiph confirms, planting his beer back on the table. "We'll come by once a month. Very punctual. All you need to do is have the money set aside for us."
June gives a single, slow nod to indicate her understanding, then continues on. "And I assume you'll want to protect your investment," she says leadingly, going so far as to minutely hitch an eyebrow. With a monthly ten percent on the table, you can hardly blame her for wringing out every drop for it.
"We're protective kind of guys," Turiph assures her, stretching his arm across the table. His palm turns upwards, creating a place for her to put hers. Seal the deal, at least. "If anybody's ever bothering you, you let us know."
"I'm sure," June replies, tone arid as the deserts of Igen. She lets his outstretched hand lay unmet for a good long moment before hers slips into place and gives it a single, hasty shake. Sealed.
Turiph waits as long it takes for her hand to appear in his, but that shake doesn't end as quickly as she'd obviously like it to. His fingers close around her hand and he stands up, bringing her hand (and with luck, the rest of her) along. "I've still got time left on this room, don't I? Let's put all that business stuff behind us." He pulls her hand towards his waist and nudges it towards his shirt, right where it was before he interrupted her paid advances for his business chat. "I'm looking for you to smile at me some more tonight."
With as effortless as it is to get June there, standing up, hands where he wants them, body nudged up against his, he might be expecting a positive response. But her level expression doesn't bode well and it proves to be the true touchstone of her feelings on the matter. "I have a policy of not providing services to business associates," she explains coolly, giving him another second or two of that close contact before stepping back. "I'll get your marks back for you if you'll come with me," she explains with a businesslike coolness as she does so.
Turiph's hand tightens around her wrist, but she's got him in a corner. He can't very well go picking fights with her after he just promised to take care of anyone who did that. "Ah, well," he resigns himself. His hand opens mechanically and returns to his side. "Sometimes this job sucks. Lead on." He'll follow her out and get his marks back, but he's going to grab and keep the beer she gave him. At least that's a freebie.
Location: The Lucky Seven, Ista Weyr
Date: 9-7-09
Night gently sweeps in from the east to at last put the sun to bed, a few eager stars hastening on the vibrantly colored lullaby. The air is abuzz with jungle bugs welcoming the twilight breeze, the chorus even thicker around the backoning light that emanates from The Lucky Seven. For, young as the evening is, the girls have opened for business, the double doors thrown open and a few decicated barflys milling around the main floor. A buzz of another kind comes from inside the game room, punctuated by the knock of billiard balls which indicates a game or tournament of some kind underway. Livi and Ruesse man the bar at this early hour, but it's a standby job right now, as it's still too early for refills. June tends to the tables, a rag in one hand. Her conversation with one of the more dependable regulars falls off and she slips away, angling for another small group of men.
But maybe she'll let herself be distracted, when a sandy-haired man who's been patiently waiting out her conversation with the other customer lifts his hand. He gives a short whistle to attract her attention, in case the hand wasn't enough, and turns on a grin to await her eye. "Mind comin' over here a second? My friend here spilled his drink, oaf that he is." The thick-bodied man next to him grunts but doesn't comment. What's left of his drink, a good half, he lifts up so he can finish.
June orients on the whistle and turns herself toward it, a similar attention spared by a few of her sisters as well. But when June deviates from her original target to help them, the rest return to the tasks they've busied themselves with. The smile she gives to the sandy-haired man is an open, friendly one, one she shares with his bigger friend shortly after, when she's reached the table. "No worry," she assures the proclaimed oaf, leaning over with her rag at the ready to mop up the spill. What she doesn't get just soaks into the table cloth, a slightly sticky spot that June ignores. "Happens all the time." One last swipe and she straightens, free hand going to her hip. "You fellows enjoying yourselves?"
The older man's gaze shifts down when June bends over, getting a load of her cleavage. "Oh, we certainly are! Good beer, good games. Nicest little tavern around, isn't it, Durskey?" "It's nice," Durskey agrees as he re-emerges from his drink. He looks at the sticky spot and decides his mug goes there, to block it. "This is a new place, isn't it?" Turiph continues pleasantly. "Seems to be doing well."
June listens as attentively as any bartender should, nodding her head faintly along with what they say, then stronger to confirm. "Yes. Not even a year yet. Let's see... nearly nine months," she tells them, as proud of it as she might be of a baby produced in just as much time. It's followed by a note of modesty, "And we're getting along. Are you two new to the area, then? Or sailors?"
"Only nine months?" The older man looks around admiringly. "And it's so well put together." "We've been around," Durskey cuts in firmly, breaking off the flattery. "Haven't come here before, though." "And you're a sharp eye to spot it," Turiph continues, dedicated to his flattery. He even winks at June. But he leans an arm on the table and gives her a little wave of the hand, come closer. "Would I be right to guess that you're the proprietress?" His eyes flick upwards, squinting at her red hair, then return with a smile.
And June does come closer. That hand on her hip transfers to a spot of table not far from where Durskey sits and she leans a bit into the space in front of him to put her ear, and consequently a flash of cleavage, closer to his partner. "You have a good eye," she returns flattery for flattery, smile brightening again. "I am."
Turiph's smile spreads for her flattery, showing off a gap in the bottom where one of his teeth has gone missing. It's a charming incongruity. "Well, thank you. Truth is I had a little help. Look for the gorgeous redhead," he explains, turning that smile lopsided. "And you're the /only/ redhead," Durskey puts in, not so flatteringly. His voice sounds a little hard, in fact. Turiph ignores him. "You see, I heard - forgive me if I heard wrong - you have a certain kind of sympathy for a man who's looking for company."
Maintaining that lean, June glances over at Durskey, giving him a scrunch of her eyes for the comment she takes all in good fun. That green-eyed gaze returns soon to Turiph, though, her eyebrows slipping a little higher. "I can be sympathetic enough, if there are marks involved." Just how many marks is quoted next, an amount on the high end of reasonable, with a tone that dips only slightly into a business-like brusqueness. "Up front," she specifies before her voice warms up again. "And which one of you is the one looking for company?" she asks, passing a flirtatious look over each of them in turn, though her look ends and lingers longer on Turiph, the more enthusiastic of the two.
"That'd be me," Turiph volunteers, sure enough. Just to keep things friendly, he even points a finger at himself and introduces, "Turiph." He digs into his pocket and rustles around for a bit, putting out most of the fee June quoted at him. While he counts the marks, and realizes they're going to come up short, he gives his partner a hard nudge with his elbow. Durskey glowers at him, but he fishes the remainder out of his own pocket and throws it at the pile. "There we are." He pushes the marks across the table to June.
"Turiph," the tavern owner repeats for her own benefit, then adds her own introduction, "I'm June." She backs a step out of her lean, leaving them their space to fish and fumble for marks while she waits with arms crossed. As soon as the correct amount surfaces, it's double-checked with a quick eye and transferred to her hand. "Alright," she says, moving her way around the bulk of Durskey to sidle up next to his partner, linking her arm with his and ushering him to stand if he hasn't already. "This is how things work," she explains, something added on top of the friendliness in her tone, her manner, a certain fondness that's surely feigned but sounds good all the same. Durskey is ignored now, as she escorts Turiph the short way to the bar. "You take your key and go up to the room it belongs to." She motions at the stairs with her chin. "I come up a minute later, with a beer for you. And then we can have some fun." At the bar now, she slips behind it to find a key for him, instructing him when she does, "Third door," and smiling to send him on his way.
Turiph does get up in time to link arms with her, crossing his other hand to rest on top of hers. "Enjoy your people-watching," he tells Durskey before letting June lead him away. The other man gives him a narrow look, but he cocks his chair back and does indeed seem to be keeping an eye on the room at large. If that eye strays more often to the girls working here than the men ordering from them, surely that's not much of a surprise. "And who doesn't like fun?" Turiph asks rhetorically, when June promises they'll have some in the room she indicated. He takes his key with a little waggle and disappears up the steps, there to wait for June. He'll be inspecting the furnishing when she comes in, hands demurely locked behind his back like a patron at an art gallery.
Turiph will pass Chidiree at the top of the stairs as he goes, and if he's done his research, he won't have to wonder at her presence. She's the sentry, another girl is already at work. She gives him no more than a glance as he climbs, keeping out of his way and silent while she watches the sparse crowd below. June enters the room with a knock less than five minutes later, that promised beer, open and ready, in her hand. She sets it on the small table with a wordless smile then goes right up to her newest client, twining fingers into the folds of shirt at his waist to draw herself closer. "Now," she says, eyes springing to meet his, that same fondness blooming in her smile, "what were you looking for tonight?"
Hearing the door open, Turiph turns around with his smile at the ready. Dallying, naughtily, in that artificial flush of affection, he lets her draw herself pretty close before he says, "Actually, I was hoping we could fit in a little business before pleasure." Reaching down, he plucks her hands from his shirt and steps back towards the table with her, opening his own hand towards in it and inviting her to sit. "I hear you're having a bit of trouble from a guy named Kozec." Whatever her response to that name, and his knowing it, Turiph's prepared to downplay it. He reaches calmly for his drink and takes the seat opposite the one he invited June to.
The unexpected introduction of business stalls June's affections as quickly as flipping a switch, confusion instead of good humor squinting her eyes and a tensed alertness taking the place of her soft smile. "I keep finding more and more people that know him," she utters dryly, not at all pleased and all the more wary now that he's shown his knowledge of Kozec. But she sits, gracefully, and stares across at him, brows brewing slowly into a frown. "Trouble, yes," she confirms then with a distracted nod of her head, though it's more just a prompt for him to continue.
Turiph offers her a slip of a smile to help calm that wary look. "Well, nobody wants you to have trouble, June. We're going to see to it that you never have to worry about Kozec again." Something about the way he says 'we' suggests more than just him and Durskey. The man reaches for his open beer and presses it to his chin. "In fact, we already have."
June is careful about not looking too interested as his explanation unravels, but when he mentions that the deed is already done, her frown breaks momentarily for a bit of surprise. "And how have you," she puts some stress on the word, too, letting him know she noticed the broader meaning, "done that, exactly?"
"I wouldn't worry about that," Turiph suggests. "All you need to know is he won't be coming back. I promise you that," he tells her, smiling that charmingly asymmetric smile with that now questionably missing tooth. He tips his beer up and takes a drink, just enough to wet his lips. "That's not all I can do for you, either."
June is over the charm. Her arms cross at her waist and her frown looms into being again as he talks. She lets Kozec's fate go unanswered, though, lets him go on. She waits a beat after he's finished, waiting for an addition or explanation of just what that could be, but when none comes, she resorts to prompting him. Without a smile to mirror his but in a tone that's still warily calm, she says, "Then tell me."
That his charm has worn off her doesn't seem to matter, because charm just seems to be part of Turiph's nature. For the moment. "My friend downstairs, that's Durskey, did a little asking around about your place. That's how we learned about your extra comforts," he tells her, putting the slightest pause before the words to emphasize the illicit nature of said extras. "But he /also/ learned the Weyrwoman doesn't know. And that she probably wouldn't like it." Turiph rolls his eyes up and gives a little shake of his head, as if he can't comprehend such an attitude. "We'd like to help keep her from finding out. But that runs into money."
There's no change in June's expression when that little business proposition unfurls; her frown doesn't deepen or startle away in surprise, her mouth remains in a calm line and her eyes just blink blankly. A poker face, of sorts. Her response is simple, cut and dry. "How much?"
Turiph turns his gaze heavenward, tapping the neck of the bottle against the gap in his teeth. "Let's see, what did Durskey say? He's the one that's good with numbers. I think ten percent." His gaze returns to her with a smile in tow. "Monthly. That's not too bad."
But June isn't about to meet that gaze, her own flicks away to focus on a spot of wall across the room, perhaps running some numbers through her head now. "Fine," she finally agrees, the syllable seeming too heavy for her light voice. Only then do her eyes come back to meet his gaze squarely. "Are you and your... partner the ones who I'll be paying?" she asks, the severity of her tone lessened somewhat in preference of a more frank approach.
"Me and Durskey," Turiph confirms, planting his beer back on the table. "We'll come by once a month. Very punctual. All you need to do is have the money set aside for us."
June gives a single, slow nod to indicate her understanding, then continues on. "And I assume you'll want to protect your investment," she says leadingly, going so far as to minutely hitch an eyebrow. With a monthly ten percent on the table, you can hardly blame her for wringing out every drop for it.
"We're protective kind of guys," Turiph assures her, stretching his arm across the table. His palm turns upwards, creating a place for her to put hers. Seal the deal, at least. "If anybody's ever bothering you, you let us know."
"I'm sure," June replies, tone arid as the deserts of Igen. She lets his outstretched hand lay unmet for a good long moment before hers slips into place and gives it a single, hasty shake. Sealed.
Turiph waits as long it takes for her hand to appear in his, but that shake doesn't end as quickly as she'd obviously like it to. His fingers close around her hand and he stands up, bringing her hand (and with luck, the rest of her) along. "I've still got time left on this room, don't I? Let's put all that business stuff behind us." He pulls her hand towards his waist and nudges it towards his shirt, right where it was before he interrupted her paid advances for his business chat. "I'm looking for you to smile at me some more tonight."
With as effortless as it is to get June there, standing up, hands where he wants them, body nudged up against his, he might be expecting a positive response. But her level expression doesn't bode well and it proves to be the true touchstone of her feelings on the matter. "I have a policy of not providing services to business associates," she explains coolly, giving him another second or two of that close contact before stepping back. "I'll get your marks back for you if you'll come with me," she explains with a businesslike coolness as she does so.
Turiph's hand tightens around her wrist, but she's got him in a corner. He can't very well go picking fights with her after he just promised to take care of anyone who did that. "Ah, well," he resigns himself. His hand opens mechanically and returns to his side. "Sometimes this job sucks. Lead on." He'll follow her out and get his marks back, but he's going to grab and keep the beer she gave him. At least that's a freebie.