Log: Skinner Visits
Skinner makes a trip up to see the girls and their new tavern and winds up drunkenly crashing in one of their rooms. Valenia wakes him up in the morning, they cuddle and he asks her for a favor.
What a night it was! The best little whorehouse south of Crom hadn't even opened its doors when a blue dragon came flying in, dropped off a passenger, and went on its way again. That passenger pushed through the doors like he owned that place and exclaimed "Girls!" as if he hadn't disappeared for two turns without a trace. But once everyone got over their shock and joy (or in Chidiree's case, joy masked by irritation), it was just like old times - magnified. The regular patrons who came in that evening were treated to a grand carousal emceed by none other than Skinner - and if they didn't know what that name meant, no matter. There were drinks enough for all, and more than enough for Skinner, who got so wasted it was deemed unsafe to put him back on a dragon. Now that morning's rolled around, somebody's got to check up on the scoundrel, who's been placed in an empty bed for the night to dry out.
And that job falls to Valenia. As cheery in the mornings as she is at every other time of the day, she steals into what's become Skinner's room for the night without any thought for sparing the poor boy the noise. "Wake up, sleepyhead," is called out as soon as the door clicks loudly shut and a moment later light floods the room as the curtains of the small window are shoved aside. She flops heavliy down onto the side of his bed, one hand clamping down on his shoulder and rocking gently. "Got you some breakfast." So she did; in her other hand she carries a heel of bread with some slab of fatty, fried meat. "Oh," she utters without even leaving him space to answer her, as if just remembering, "How're you feeling? You drank a lot last night." She giggles. "A lot, a lot."
Chances are Skinner didn't notice any noise from his room, because even Valenia's cheerful voice isn't enough to wake him. It's the shake on the shoulder that does it, and he climbs back towards consciousness with a low moan, groping instinctively around for something to latch onto. He finds Val's arm and holds onto it as he peels open an eye. "Oh good," he croaks, closing that eye again. "You're not just a dream." His hand continues to feel around, confirming more of her solidity, though it's perfectly chaste in its explorations. Eventually, heedless of the food and the question, he gives her arm a tug. "Aren't you tired?" he mumbles. "You should take a nap."
Valenia only laughs softly at his groping, his confirmation that she's not a spectre sent here to tease. In answer, she only utters a giggly, "Aw, poor Skinner," and gives his shoulder a sound pat. Naturally, the laughing only continues when he tries to convince her of her own tiredness. "Oh, ow, look at that, you've twisted my arm," she claims, her arm doing the twisting all on its own. Food placed quickly out of the way on a nightstand, Valenia rearranges herself with a round of 'scoot over's and 'I want some blanket's until she's nuzzled in and facing him as if they'd just had the most fantastic and girly of sleepovers. It's all comfortable and cozy until she cries out suddenly, "Skinner!" Her alarm's justified, at least to her, as she's just noticed the lacking digit. "Where did your finger go?" she demands to know, fetching the injured hand and dragging it up to display it in front of his face, as if he might not have yet realized it was gone.
All that settling in does what bacon (amazingly) couldn't, and by the time Val's comfortable Skinner is awake, if still not very clear headed. Once she's set, he takes her hands and slips his fingers through hers rather than throwing an arm over her, keeping them innocently between their bodies - and that proves to be a mistake, since it draws her attention to the missing pinky on his right hand. Judging by the way the skin's completely healed up, the scar tissue thick but smooth, it's been gone quite a while. Her shout makes him wince and squeeze her hands tighter, but when he realizes what she's on about, he plays his part. "Oh my god!" he exclaims, gaping at the spot. "What did I /do/ last night?"
Valenia fixes him with sqinted stare, but her smile is too powerful to be dampened by her annoyance at his lack of answer and it ruins the entire effect. "Ha ha," she says rather than giggles this time, turning to regard the curiously empty spot with a mix of fascination and aversion, all ten of her fingers cupping the hand but staying clear of the scar. "I think you better tell me what happened, or I'll... sick Chidiree on you," she decides in her best attempt at being threatening, which comes off as tentatively cautioning instead. "She'd probably bite the other one clean off. Was it bitten off? Oh, that sounds like it would be painful. Tell me," she orders, this time risking a prodding poke at the area.
Skinner chuckles at her running commentary, but that little act he put on for her took a lot out of him, and the pounding in his head can be inferred from the squeezing of his eyes. He lets her have the hand she's so interested in, and doesn't mind at all when she starts poking the scar, but his other arm comes up to press on his forehead as if that might squeeze the pain away. "It just fell off one day," he persists in lying. "Here I am, walking along, and boop - off it goes. I think it wanted to explore opportunities with a different partnership, maybe find itself a nice lady-hand to grow old with." Giving up on his headache, he reaches back to search for the breakfast she brought him.
"No," Valenia gasps out at once in believing disbelief. It takes her only a moment more to realize that he's pulling her leg, then she rolls her eyes dramatically and drops his hand. "Maybe he bought her a ring," she adds to the story, chuckling to herself over the imagery. She's never been the sister who delves too deeply, though, and gives the subject up as easily as she happened upon it. When he reaches for the sandwich, she twists herself around to help, making up those last few inches he would have had to reach by just handing it to him. "Be as messy as you like," she tells him, "June says you'll be washing your own sheets before you leave." Whether it's a joke or not, Valenia smiles all the same.
"You're a peach," Skinner tells her when she hands them sandwich. He bites into it immediately, so he's speaking with his mouth full when he adds agreeably, "June's a peach." A few dry crumbs blow off his lips when he says that, so he puts a hand up there to cover it and shoots Val an apologetic look. The rest of his breakfast he finishes wordlessly, and quickly, so he can lick his fingers clean and get back to hand-holding sleepover time. Relaxed, his eyes start to droop closed as soon as he does. "I can't tell you about the hand, Val," he murmurs, explaining even though she gave it up laready. "It's sweet of you not to ask. Well, you did ask, but didn't push. I love you," he tells her, scooting in to plant a fond kiss on her forehead.
The time that Skinner spends wolfing down his bacon, Valenia uses to recount a tidbit from the night before that she found particularly funny, involving some barfly commandeering Livi's underwear to use as headgear. She laughs over it quietly after sharing, lapsing into whispery chuckles by the time the promised naptime rolls around. Even those cut short, though, when he speaks and she watches him with her face growing redder and redder with every word of praise. "Aw, Skinny-binny," she says fondly, pulling out that embarrassing nickname she reserves for when he's being unbearably sweet or charming. "I love you, too," she returns, sincere but not serious. His scooting is met with a one-armed hug, hand patting idly while she cuddles in. "Just don't tell anyone I said so," she jokes, letting out one last laugh before she nuzzles under his chin and gets back to the business of napping.
Tired as he is, Skinner's on some kind of time delay, so they get to lie there in peace for at least a few moments. Then his body goes rigid, which is hard not to notice when you're tucked in under his chin, and finally moves with sharp cracking motions, as if each joint had to break free from an encasement of ice. "I'll be back," he assures her as he throws off his share of the blankets, leaving them in a tumble over her body. He swings his legs over the edge and gets up to head for the door, faster than a hungover man ought to move. "I need a drink."
Valenia may stir a bit when she feels the tension take him over, but doesn't lift her head until those marked movements begin. Already coaxed into drowsiness, she blinks heavily at him, shifting herself just enough to make his escape easier. "A drink?" Of all the things she may have suspected him to need at that moment, a drink was clearly not one of them. She props herself up on her elbow to watch him over the blanket pile on her hip, expression openly perplexed, but gives even that up a moment later, reclaiming the pillow with a murmured, "Okay." In the meantime she'll busy herself with a lazy settling of the sheets, using small kicks and tugs to put them straight again for when he returns.
"Hair of the dog," he tells Valenia, his voice bright and just a bit brittle. He's not gone long, but it does take him some time to coax a glass of brandy out of Petra, and he's already drank some of it by the time he gets back up the stairs. Luckily, he brought two glasses, although whether Val will get to the second one before he does is a question yet to be determined. Slipping back into the room, he sets her (ostensible) glass down on the nightstand and rests a hand on her shoulder to see if she's awake. "How're you doing there, doll?"
Valenia stretches languidly at his touch, awake but just barely. She looks up at him through hooded eyes that crinkle further with her sudden smile. "'M fine," she mumbles. "I never realize how comfortable these beds are. You didn't tell anyone I was laying down, did you?" she asks him, only now taking notice of the two glasses. "Water would probably help more, you know."
Skinner follows her eyes to the second glass, lifting it with a raised brow. "What, this? This is for me," he says, but he holds it out for her with a grin. Kidding. "You're helping me make the beds, sweets, as far as anyone knows. Or I'm helping you, one or the other." If she hasn't taken the brandy by this point, he'll set it down; he'll need that second hand free to ruffle her hair a bit. "I forget you girls don't avail yourselves of the luxuries you have available here. Sisterly bonding is one thing, but you'd never catch me cramping into a small bedroom if one of these babies were free." He pats the bed appreciatively. "Might take the six ladies into the bed /with/ me," he adds, popping a grin, "but I'd be in the bed."
Valenia shoves herself up against the pillows into a haphazard lounge and reaches for the brandy, peering into it while her toes wriggle comfortably under the newly straightened blankets. His ruffling hand lands easily, her head moving with the motion, and she replies, "Rooms don't stay clean if you sleep in them. Just be making more work for yourself if you come in and mess things up. Although, if you're getting six ladies in the deal, it might be worth the extra effort. Wait, why only six?" Curiously, she lifts her eyes to him, only then taking a first sip of the drink he's thoughtfully brought her; she fights the expression of distaste as it goes down harsher than expected.
"This is work worth making," Skinner replies reverently, patting the mattress. He swings his legs onto the bed and straightens out next to Valenia, letting her keep the pillows while he props himself up on the headboard. "We're positing a situation here, doll. We're saying if I were in your place, and I had six lovely sisters to share space with, I'd like to do it in this bed. You know, you really ought to get male prostitutes in here. I say from experience there are lots of lonely women in this world whose needs are," he makes a sad face at her, "underserved."
"Are you volunteering yourself for the job?" Valenia asks, giggling at him as she tilts her head back against the pillow and to the side, angling her gaze up at him. "We've thought about it before, you know. Not just for the, um, underserved," the word itself deserves a hiccup of a laugh, "girls, but for extra security too. Never really found a guy for it, though. Sure there's plenty that want to just have sex for a living, but do they want to work for a woman? Or help with all of the cleaning and things too? Plus Ruesse thinks it would just create problems with... inside relationships or something." She tries to weave her fingers, but that proves difficult with the glass, so she sips instead; this one has hardly improved over the first. "Oh, it is too early for this," she claims, going to abandon the glass on the table.
"Sorry, doll," Skinner tells her when she gives up the brandy, patting her arm. He sneaks his own around her shoulders and pull her in closer. "Are you not a brandy girl? I'd have liked to get us mimosas, but either there's no champagne in the house or Petra wouldn't let me have it. Understandable," he admits, looking into his brandy glass with a grin. "But too bad. Don't you think I'd make a fine gigolo, though? I keep my hands off you girls," although he drums his fingers on her shoulder when he says it, "and I'm ever so very biddable. I've already agreed to make my own bed, for instance. It's really a shame that I can't," he concludes with a chuckle, tipping back more of his brandy.
"Not really," Valenia answers in regards to the brandy, her cute little nose crinkling cutely for a moment as she glances over at the stuff. "You can have it if you want," she generously offers, turning back to watch him while he speaks. "Why can't you?" she wants to know, continuing quickly, "I think you'd do great. And you'd probably make a lot of money. And everyone already likes you, so that's already one hurdle down. Plus... comfortable beds," she tempts with a drawn out tone, running her hand over the section of covers that just happens to have his knee beneath it. "Oh, and me," she adds as it suddenly occurs to him, brightness touching her smile as well as her tone, "around all the time."
Skinner laughs, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. "That's the greatest temptation," he tells her, though his light, un-serious tone doesn't promise real hope in the matter. "But I have bigger desires than money, if you can believe it, and you all have a comfortable little thing here without being swept up in my ambition." He finishes his glass of brandy and reaches for hers, though this he just rests on his stomach placidly. "Besides, I've got to stay in Ista for the time being. I'm glad I found /you/, at least, and can visit." He puts a finger on that cute little nose of hers and pushes it in playfully. "When there's a rider willing to take me."
He declines the tempting offer and Valenia shrugs neutrally before letting her head fall down to his shoulder. "Why would you want to stay at Ista?" she inquires, presuming it to be a matter of choice. "It's about to get really hot there. You should go north for the summer like birds do, like go trading in the Reaches and enjoy the nice cool breezes. It'd be so much nicer. Oh, and if you're looking for a rider, just ask K'aus, that brownrider guy, think you met him before. You probably wouldn't even have to bribe him, he'd take you just for the excuse to come up here." Quietly, she giggles to herself, as if enjoying the gossipy secrets she's in possession of.
"I can't, doll. My wings are clipped." Skinner brushes a hand through the air and looks down the length of it, at the literally clipped finger on his right hand. "I already left for a while, and that didn't work. I'll just have to stay in Ista and hope the birds will come to me. And - you can help me, sweets." He gooses her ribs, flopping on his side to face her with a grin. "I'm looking for someone. I'll bet you could keep an eye out."
Valenia's lips begin to purse in a thoughtful pout at the thought of his self-imposed cage, but that trend reverses quickly with that poke to the ribs. She lets out a squeak of protest and, while she squirms farther out of his reach, her smile jumps back to its usual spot. In a wink, she's forgotten it and settles back without any residual wariness. "Probably," she answers easily, completely trusting again and baring her vulnerable, ticklish side to him as she mirrors his flop. "Who'd I be looking for?"
"A gi-irl," Skinner replies, giving the word a teasing twist before Val can even get to it. He poses his fingers over her ticklish side again and wiggles them threateningly, but it's just a feint: his other hand sneaks to her nose and pokes the tip of it. "A cute little snip of a thing like you, but darker hair. Her name's Elise."
Valenia gives a playful little gasp. "A girl." He's already traveled the teasing ground, so she takes the surprised tack, though she also manages to sound vaguely impressed with him. Too distracted by the subject to bother with any tickling threats, she ignores them, continuing on matter-of-factly, "Pretty, too, I imagine, if you're looking for her in particular. Elise, Elise. Small, dark hair, got it. Who is she?"
Skinner apes her surprise back at her, popping his mouth open and widening his eyes. It dissolves into a grin as Val gets down to the business of prying. "The love of my life, can't you tell? I heard she'd gone looking for me, but I wasn't able to track her down. The best I can do is stay in Ista and hope she finds me there, but she might come your way, sweets. Especially if any of those drunks you had in here last night remember who kicked off the party."
Valenia snorts in a most un-ladylike fashion and mutters, "Good luck with that happening." Drunks remembering, not likely. "I'll watch," she promises, tone casual though there's little doubt that she's utterly sincere in it. "What do you want me to tell her if I do see her? Go find you? Send you a message? Tell her everything I know about you?" She teases lightly with the last, giggling softly over whatever secrets of his she thinks she knows.
Skinner chuckles and ruffles her hair. "I know, right? I had to try, sweets. She might come this way." He does tickle her this time, egging on those little giggles and apparently not worried about his secrets. "You keep her here, sweets," he tells her, raising his voice in case the tickling works. "And let me know about it. I'll come to you."
Valenia's giggling, shrill at first, grows breathy and desperate as the tickling continues, and she paws at his hands, pushing at them weakly while she tries to form a reply. "That's silly," she decides breathily. "What am I-- Skinner, stop!" It's a laughing admission of defeat. "What am I supposed to do to keep her here? Seduce her? Makes much more sense if I just say you're looking for her."
Skinner laughs when she pushes him off, but eventually he allows himself to be quelled. He tucks his hand safely inside Valenia's, putting her safety literally in her own hands. "Well, of course you can say that, doll; it's no secret. Don't let her come looking for me is all. I'd rather not cross paths with her and lose her again."
"Oh, okay," Valenia responds, everything clear now. His hand rests in a cage made from both of her own, not held tight but definitely contained. "As long as this girl doesn't owe you a whole mess of marks or something and this is your way of collecting," she adds, suddenly stern. Well, as stern as Valenia gets. "I'm not going to do your dirty work for you."
There's a bark of laughter as Skinner brings his other hand forward, patting her cage. "I wouldn't ask it of you, doll. Elise owes me exactly three-eighths of a mark, but I'm not going to turn her up by the heels and shake her for it. I don't do that any more," he adds with an impish wink.
"Sure you don't," Valenia chuckles absently, releasing his hand and squirming comfortably. "Now, about that nap I was promised," she leads, grin drawn broader. But just as her eyes are about to close, they start open and she utters a tiny, "Oh. Is this something I'm not supposed to talk about with my sisters? More eyes, you know, could help."
His hand released, Skinner puts it over her shoulders and draws her in towards his chest. That last minute peep out of her makes him pause. He looks at her for a moment before planting a kiss on her forehead and starting to draw her in again. "You can tell them, sweets. You're all good. Anyway, far be it from me to ask you to keep anything from your sisters." Having drawn her in and tucked her up against his (admittedly beer-smelling) chest, he rounds the comment off with a friendly scratch of her shoulder blades.
Beer-smell isn't anything that bothers this girl. Valenia nuzzles in, humming lowly, contentedly, so that her muttered, "Okay," is barely audible over it. And now that all the terms are outlined, she lets her eyes drop closed and relaxes against him to slip in that bit of rest she was promised.
What a night it was! The best little whorehouse south of Crom hadn't even opened its doors when a blue dragon came flying in, dropped off a passenger, and went on its way again. That passenger pushed through the doors like he owned that place and exclaimed "Girls!" as if he hadn't disappeared for two turns without a trace. But once everyone got over their shock and joy (or in Chidiree's case, joy masked by irritation), it was just like old times - magnified. The regular patrons who came in that evening were treated to a grand carousal emceed by none other than Skinner - and if they didn't know what that name meant, no matter. There were drinks enough for all, and more than enough for Skinner, who got so wasted it was deemed unsafe to put him back on a dragon. Now that morning's rolled around, somebody's got to check up on the scoundrel, who's been placed in an empty bed for the night to dry out.
And that job falls to Valenia. As cheery in the mornings as she is at every other time of the day, she steals into what's become Skinner's room for the night without any thought for sparing the poor boy the noise. "Wake up, sleepyhead," is called out as soon as the door clicks loudly shut and a moment later light floods the room as the curtains of the small window are shoved aside. She flops heavliy down onto the side of his bed, one hand clamping down on his shoulder and rocking gently. "Got you some breakfast." So she did; in her other hand she carries a heel of bread with some slab of fatty, fried meat. "Oh," she utters without even leaving him space to answer her, as if just remembering, "How're you feeling? You drank a lot last night." She giggles. "A lot, a lot."
Chances are Skinner didn't notice any noise from his room, because even Valenia's cheerful voice isn't enough to wake him. It's the shake on the shoulder that does it, and he climbs back towards consciousness with a low moan, groping instinctively around for something to latch onto. He finds Val's arm and holds onto it as he peels open an eye. "Oh good," he croaks, closing that eye again. "You're not just a dream." His hand continues to feel around, confirming more of her solidity, though it's perfectly chaste in its explorations. Eventually, heedless of the food and the question, he gives her arm a tug. "Aren't you tired?" he mumbles. "You should take a nap."
Valenia only laughs softly at his groping, his confirmation that she's not a spectre sent here to tease. In answer, she only utters a giggly, "Aw, poor Skinner," and gives his shoulder a sound pat. Naturally, the laughing only continues when he tries to convince her of her own tiredness. "Oh, ow, look at that, you've twisted my arm," she claims, her arm doing the twisting all on its own. Food placed quickly out of the way on a nightstand, Valenia rearranges herself with a round of 'scoot over's and 'I want some blanket's until she's nuzzled in and facing him as if they'd just had the most fantastic and girly of sleepovers. It's all comfortable and cozy until she cries out suddenly, "Skinner!" Her alarm's justified, at least to her, as she's just noticed the lacking digit. "Where did your finger go?" she demands to know, fetching the injured hand and dragging it up to display it in front of his face, as if he might not have yet realized it was gone.
All that settling in does what bacon (amazingly) couldn't, and by the time Val's comfortable Skinner is awake, if still not very clear headed. Once she's set, he takes her hands and slips his fingers through hers rather than throwing an arm over her, keeping them innocently between their bodies - and that proves to be a mistake, since it draws her attention to the missing pinky on his right hand. Judging by the way the skin's completely healed up, the scar tissue thick but smooth, it's been gone quite a while. Her shout makes him wince and squeeze her hands tighter, but when he realizes what she's on about, he plays his part. "Oh my god!" he exclaims, gaping at the spot. "What did I /do/ last night?"
Valenia fixes him with sqinted stare, but her smile is too powerful to be dampened by her annoyance at his lack of answer and it ruins the entire effect. "Ha ha," she says rather than giggles this time, turning to regard the curiously empty spot with a mix of fascination and aversion, all ten of her fingers cupping the hand but staying clear of the scar. "I think you better tell me what happened, or I'll... sick Chidiree on you," she decides in her best attempt at being threatening, which comes off as tentatively cautioning instead. "She'd probably bite the other one clean off. Was it bitten off? Oh, that sounds like it would be painful. Tell me," she orders, this time risking a prodding poke at the area.
Skinner chuckles at her running commentary, but that little act he put on for her took a lot out of him, and the pounding in his head can be inferred from the squeezing of his eyes. He lets her have the hand she's so interested in, and doesn't mind at all when she starts poking the scar, but his other arm comes up to press on his forehead as if that might squeeze the pain away. "It just fell off one day," he persists in lying. "Here I am, walking along, and boop - off it goes. I think it wanted to explore opportunities with a different partnership, maybe find itself a nice lady-hand to grow old with." Giving up on his headache, he reaches back to search for the breakfast she brought him.
"No," Valenia gasps out at once in believing disbelief. It takes her only a moment more to realize that he's pulling her leg, then she rolls her eyes dramatically and drops his hand. "Maybe he bought her a ring," she adds to the story, chuckling to herself over the imagery. She's never been the sister who delves too deeply, though, and gives the subject up as easily as she happened upon it. When he reaches for the sandwich, she twists herself around to help, making up those last few inches he would have had to reach by just handing it to him. "Be as messy as you like," she tells him, "June says you'll be washing your own sheets before you leave." Whether it's a joke or not, Valenia smiles all the same.
"You're a peach," Skinner tells her when she hands them sandwich. He bites into it immediately, so he's speaking with his mouth full when he adds agreeably, "June's a peach." A few dry crumbs blow off his lips when he says that, so he puts a hand up there to cover it and shoots Val an apologetic look. The rest of his breakfast he finishes wordlessly, and quickly, so he can lick his fingers clean and get back to hand-holding sleepover time. Relaxed, his eyes start to droop closed as soon as he does. "I can't tell you about the hand, Val," he murmurs, explaining even though she gave it up laready. "It's sweet of you not to ask. Well, you did ask, but didn't push. I love you," he tells her, scooting in to plant a fond kiss on her forehead.
The time that Skinner spends wolfing down his bacon, Valenia uses to recount a tidbit from the night before that she found particularly funny, involving some barfly commandeering Livi's underwear to use as headgear. She laughs over it quietly after sharing, lapsing into whispery chuckles by the time the promised naptime rolls around. Even those cut short, though, when he speaks and she watches him with her face growing redder and redder with every word of praise. "Aw, Skinny-binny," she says fondly, pulling out that embarrassing nickname she reserves for when he's being unbearably sweet or charming. "I love you, too," she returns, sincere but not serious. His scooting is met with a one-armed hug, hand patting idly while she cuddles in. "Just don't tell anyone I said so," she jokes, letting out one last laugh before she nuzzles under his chin and gets back to the business of napping.
Tired as he is, Skinner's on some kind of time delay, so they get to lie there in peace for at least a few moments. Then his body goes rigid, which is hard not to notice when you're tucked in under his chin, and finally moves with sharp cracking motions, as if each joint had to break free from an encasement of ice. "I'll be back," he assures her as he throws off his share of the blankets, leaving them in a tumble over her body. He swings his legs over the edge and gets up to head for the door, faster than a hungover man ought to move. "I need a drink."
Valenia may stir a bit when she feels the tension take him over, but doesn't lift her head until those marked movements begin. Already coaxed into drowsiness, she blinks heavily at him, shifting herself just enough to make his escape easier. "A drink?" Of all the things she may have suspected him to need at that moment, a drink was clearly not one of them. She props herself up on her elbow to watch him over the blanket pile on her hip, expression openly perplexed, but gives even that up a moment later, reclaiming the pillow with a murmured, "Okay." In the meantime she'll busy herself with a lazy settling of the sheets, using small kicks and tugs to put them straight again for when he returns.
"Hair of the dog," he tells Valenia, his voice bright and just a bit brittle. He's not gone long, but it does take him some time to coax a glass of brandy out of Petra, and he's already drank some of it by the time he gets back up the stairs. Luckily, he brought two glasses, although whether Val will get to the second one before he does is a question yet to be determined. Slipping back into the room, he sets her (ostensible) glass down on the nightstand and rests a hand on her shoulder to see if she's awake. "How're you doing there, doll?"
Valenia stretches languidly at his touch, awake but just barely. She looks up at him through hooded eyes that crinkle further with her sudden smile. "'M fine," she mumbles. "I never realize how comfortable these beds are. You didn't tell anyone I was laying down, did you?" she asks him, only now taking notice of the two glasses. "Water would probably help more, you know."
Skinner follows her eyes to the second glass, lifting it with a raised brow. "What, this? This is for me," he says, but he holds it out for her with a grin. Kidding. "You're helping me make the beds, sweets, as far as anyone knows. Or I'm helping you, one or the other." If she hasn't taken the brandy by this point, he'll set it down; he'll need that second hand free to ruffle her hair a bit. "I forget you girls don't avail yourselves of the luxuries you have available here. Sisterly bonding is one thing, but you'd never catch me cramping into a small bedroom if one of these babies were free." He pats the bed appreciatively. "Might take the six ladies into the bed /with/ me," he adds, popping a grin, "but I'd be in the bed."
Valenia shoves herself up against the pillows into a haphazard lounge and reaches for the brandy, peering into it while her toes wriggle comfortably under the newly straightened blankets. His ruffling hand lands easily, her head moving with the motion, and she replies, "Rooms don't stay clean if you sleep in them. Just be making more work for yourself if you come in and mess things up. Although, if you're getting six ladies in the deal, it might be worth the extra effort. Wait, why only six?" Curiously, she lifts her eyes to him, only then taking a first sip of the drink he's thoughtfully brought her; she fights the expression of distaste as it goes down harsher than expected.
"This is work worth making," Skinner replies reverently, patting the mattress. He swings his legs onto the bed and straightens out next to Valenia, letting her keep the pillows while he props himself up on the headboard. "We're positing a situation here, doll. We're saying if I were in your place, and I had six lovely sisters to share space with, I'd like to do it in this bed. You know, you really ought to get male prostitutes in here. I say from experience there are lots of lonely women in this world whose needs are," he makes a sad face at her, "underserved."
"Are you volunteering yourself for the job?" Valenia asks, giggling at him as she tilts her head back against the pillow and to the side, angling her gaze up at him. "We've thought about it before, you know. Not just for the, um, underserved," the word itself deserves a hiccup of a laugh, "girls, but for extra security too. Never really found a guy for it, though. Sure there's plenty that want to just have sex for a living, but do they want to work for a woman? Or help with all of the cleaning and things too? Plus Ruesse thinks it would just create problems with... inside relationships or something." She tries to weave her fingers, but that proves difficult with the glass, so she sips instead; this one has hardly improved over the first. "Oh, it is too early for this," she claims, going to abandon the glass on the table.
"Sorry, doll," Skinner tells her when she gives up the brandy, patting her arm. He sneaks his own around her shoulders and pull her in closer. "Are you not a brandy girl? I'd have liked to get us mimosas, but either there's no champagne in the house or Petra wouldn't let me have it. Understandable," he admits, looking into his brandy glass with a grin. "But too bad. Don't you think I'd make a fine gigolo, though? I keep my hands off you girls," although he drums his fingers on her shoulder when he says it, "and I'm ever so very biddable. I've already agreed to make my own bed, for instance. It's really a shame that I can't," he concludes with a chuckle, tipping back more of his brandy.
"Not really," Valenia answers in regards to the brandy, her cute little nose crinkling cutely for a moment as she glances over at the stuff. "You can have it if you want," she generously offers, turning back to watch him while he speaks. "Why can't you?" she wants to know, continuing quickly, "I think you'd do great. And you'd probably make a lot of money. And everyone already likes you, so that's already one hurdle down. Plus... comfortable beds," she tempts with a drawn out tone, running her hand over the section of covers that just happens to have his knee beneath it. "Oh, and me," she adds as it suddenly occurs to him, brightness touching her smile as well as her tone, "around all the time."
Skinner laughs, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. "That's the greatest temptation," he tells her, though his light, un-serious tone doesn't promise real hope in the matter. "But I have bigger desires than money, if you can believe it, and you all have a comfortable little thing here without being swept up in my ambition." He finishes his glass of brandy and reaches for hers, though this he just rests on his stomach placidly. "Besides, I've got to stay in Ista for the time being. I'm glad I found /you/, at least, and can visit." He puts a finger on that cute little nose of hers and pushes it in playfully. "When there's a rider willing to take me."
He declines the tempting offer and Valenia shrugs neutrally before letting her head fall down to his shoulder. "Why would you want to stay at Ista?" she inquires, presuming it to be a matter of choice. "It's about to get really hot there. You should go north for the summer like birds do, like go trading in the Reaches and enjoy the nice cool breezes. It'd be so much nicer. Oh, and if you're looking for a rider, just ask K'aus, that brownrider guy, think you met him before. You probably wouldn't even have to bribe him, he'd take you just for the excuse to come up here." Quietly, she giggles to herself, as if enjoying the gossipy secrets she's in possession of.
"I can't, doll. My wings are clipped." Skinner brushes a hand through the air and looks down the length of it, at the literally clipped finger on his right hand. "I already left for a while, and that didn't work. I'll just have to stay in Ista and hope the birds will come to me. And - you can help me, sweets." He gooses her ribs, flopping on his side to face her with a grin. "I'm looking for someone. I'll bet you could keep an eye out."
Valenia's lips begin to purse in a thoughtful pout at the thought of his self-imposed cage, but that trend reverses quickly with that poke to the ribs. She lets out a squeak of protest and, while she squirms farther out of his reach, her smile jumps back to its usual spot. In a wink, she's forgotten it and settles back without any residual wariness. "Probably," she answers easily, completely trusting again and baring her vulnerable, ticklish side to him as she mirrors his flop. "Who'd I be looking for?"
"A gi-irl," Skinner replies, giving the word a teasing twist before Val can even get to it. He poses his fingers over her ticklish side again and wiggles them threateningly, but it's just a feint: his other hand sneaks to her nose and pokes the tip of it. "A cute little snip of a thing like you, but darker hair. Her name's Elise."
Valenia gives a playful little gasp. "A girl." He's already traveled the teasing ground, so she takes the surprised tack, though she also manages to sound vaguely impressed with him. Too distracted by the subject to bother with any tickling threats, she ignores them, continuing on matter-of-factly, "Pretty, too, I imagine, if you're looking for her in particular. Elise, Elise. Small, dark hair, got it. Who is she?"
Skinner apes her surprise back at her, popping his mouth open and widening his eyes. It dissolves into a grin as Val gets down to the business of prying. "The love of my life, can't you tell? I heard she'd gone looking for me, but I wasn't able to track her down. The best I can do is stay in Ista and hope she finds me there, but she might come your way, sweets. Especially if any of those drunks you had in here last night remember who kicked off the party."
Valenia snorts in a most un-ladylike fashion and mutters, "Good luck with that happening." Drunks remembering, not likely. "I'll watch," she promises, tone casual though there's little doubt that she's utterly sincere in it. "What do you want me to tell her if I do see her? Go find you? Send you a message? Tell her everything I know about you?" She teases lightly with the last, giggling softly over whatever secrets of his she thinks she knows.
Skinner chuckles and ruffles her hair. "I know, right? I had to try, sweets. She might come this way." He does tickle her this time, egging on those little giggles and apparently not worried about his secrets. "You keep her here, sweets," he tells her, raising his voice in case the tickling works. "And let me know about it. I'll come to you."
Valenia's giggling, shrill at first, grows breathy and desperate as the tickling continues, and she paws at his hands, pushing at them weakly while she tries to form a reply. "That's silly," she decides breathily. "What am I-- Skinner, stop!" It's a laughing admission of defeat. "What am I supposed to do to keep her here? Seduce her? Makes much more sense if I just say you're looking for her."
Skinner laughs when she pushes him off, but eventually he allows himself to be quelled. He tucks his hand safely inside Valenia's, putting her safety literally in her own hands. "Well, of course you can say that, doll; it's no secret. Don't let her come looking for me is all. I'd rather not cross paths with her and lose her again."
"Oh, okay," Valenia responds, everything clear now. His hand rests in a cage made from both of her own, not held tight but definitely contained. "As long as this girl doesn't owe you a whole mess of marks or something and this is your way of collecting," she adds, suddenly stern. Well, as stern as Valenia gets. "I'm not going to do your dirty work for you."
There's a bark of laughter as Skinner brings his other hand forward, patting her cage. "I wouldn't ask it of you, doll. Elise owes me exactly three-eighths of a mark, but I'm not going to turn her up by the heels and shake her for it. I don't do that any more," he adds with an impish wink.
"Sure you don't," Valenia chuckles absently, releasing his hand and squirming comfortably. "Now, about that nap I was promised," she leads, grin drawn broader. But just as her eyes are about to close, they start open and she utters a tiny, "Oh. Is this something I'm not supposed to talk about with my sisters? More eyes, you know, could help."
His hand released, Skinner puts it over her shoulders and draws her in towards his chest. That last minute peep out of her makes him pause. He looks at her for a moment before planting a kiss on her forehead and starting to draw her in again. "You can tell them, sweets. You're all good. Anyway, far be it from me to ask you to keep anything from your sisters." Having drawn her in and tucked her up against his (admittedly beer-smelling) chest, he rounds the comment off with a friendly scratch of her shoulder blades.
Beer-smell isn't anything that bothers this girl. Valenia nuzzles in, humming lowly, contentedly, so that her muttered, "Okay," is barely audible over it. And now that all the terms are outlined, she lets her eyes drop closed and relaxes against him to slip in that bit of rest she was promised.