[Log] Elbows
Who: P'draig, Fayre, Ajatha, P'traul, Olesia
What: In celebration of his new tapping, Paul heads down to the Sandbar, where there's a fair gathering of people to celebrate with!
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
"Yeah, that was a long time ago, more than twenty turns," P'draig confesses with another laugh and twirls his empty glasses. "To each their own, right? In terms of fun." He winks at the barmaid and tilts his glass. "Refill, please?"
Always room for another brownrider, right? A teeny weeny brownrider? Well, P'traul's not that teeny weeny, but he's got to squeeze in for a seat anyway, considering the hour, but he's lucky to have one right next to Paddy and Paul beams a greeting to his old weyrlingmaster. "P'draig, sir! And /Ajatha/," he sighs happily, "A sight for sore eyes! Please, could I have something fruity and tasty and delicious? Surprise me!"
Fayre arrives from the main beach.
Fayre has arrived.
Ajatha returns to the bartop long enough to take back the brownrider's glass to get him set back up with a refilly, a lazy smile on her mouth. "What can y'do though, huh?" It /has/ seemed to have gotten a bit more crowded, which has drawn one or two more of the bartenders back into their work from the back or various places in the crowd, appearing like woodwork come alive! "P'traul! There's my favorite weyrling. Or I guess it would be full rider now, huh? Surprise you? You sure you want me to do that? Askin' for trouble.." But she's turning back again to browse through the drinks to come up with a surprise for the man.
P'draig turns about on his stool at P'traul's cheery greeting and grins. "Hey there," he says good-naturedly while waiting on his new drink. "And a surprise drink, brave man," Paddy compliments. "I had Tam surprise me one time and that's how we got my favorite drink, named in her honor: the Feisty Girl." And he tilts his glass as an example of such.
"I'm feeling lucky," P'traul announces along with a proud little straightening of his shoulders. That's right! Full rider. He's got a Spinnaker knot and /everything/. He does lean in a little to sniff at P'draig's Feisty Girl, and his eyebrows go up. "Ooh," he nods, "it /smells/ good, at least."
Fayre might be lost in the usual Sandbar crowd thanks to her relatively short height, which isn't helped at all by the very thin sandals she wears. She's only just come in and is thus without a drink, so she's quick to head towards the bar to remedy that. The rider skirts around the edges of the main crowd, taking a shortcut alongside the gaming area.
Ajatha glances back over her shoulder innocently and then ambles on back. She takes a moment to refill said Feisty Girl and cocks a sly grin across the bar. "That's one way to get your own drink. You brownriders. Nearly as bad as bronzeriders. Worse, sometimes, in my experience." The grin flashes over at P'traul next, her other hand bringing around another glass to set before him - let him see how good a Feisty Girl drink is for himself. "Congratulations! You survived without too many bouts of latrine duty or running as discipline, I hope. Hi there!" The latter, of course, for Fayre.
"Congratulations again," P'draig wishes sincerely, though he offered those at the time and at the party. "Cinnamon and rum," he explains about the drink in his hand. He leans against the bar, seated at a stool, talking with Ajatha and P'traul, evening in the bar is in full swing. "I will have to concede, that I am probably worse than most bronzeriders," Paddy admits. "You know who I'm weyrmated to." He grins at the barmaid and sips from his second drink.
"Why," P'traul lightly spreads his fingers across his chest, round eyes widening still, "/Ajatha/. I resemble that remark!" Surely he meant resent, right? ... right? But his faint smile means he's joking, and he accepts his very own Feisty Girl with a grateful nod for the bartender. "Cinnamon and rum!" He repeats, lifting the glass and aiming to clink it against P'draig's in a cheers sort of motion. And then there's Fayre! Oh-so-casually, the newly minted Spinnaker rider will elbow the occupant in the seat next to him for a moment or two until he gets the hint and moves off, with a sharp salute for the weyrwoman. "Good evening, weyrwoman," Paul greets genially.
Fayre lets out a long sigh of relief when she manages to squeeze through the crowd and successfully arrives at the bar. Finding herself amongst familiar faces, or at least one very familiar and two vaguely familiar faces, she grins. "Almost a workout just gettin' here, eh? And this place is supposed to help folks relax." P'traul's actions earn him a smirk from Fayre, but she gratefully hops onto the neighbouring seat. "Ah, many thanks! I admit, I'm still workin' on the fine art of elbowin' people outta their seats." She gestures towards the young rider's new knot and adds, "Congratulations, too. Hope ya don't give A'mon /too/ much trouble."
"Oh, your weyrmate can't be -that- bad. ../Though/." Ajatha pauses as if to think about that one but soon offers up a good-natured grin, obviously teasing at P'draig. Her grin widens in amusement at P'traul, hooking a hip on the bar again to be sociable for a moment. "You certainly resemble it." Innocently. The weyrwoman finally getting to the bar has her straightening a bit attentively, though she dips her head in greeting. "Evening, weyrwoman. Normally I have to find one of the taller men to make way to get through here. It's always an interesting trek. Can I get you anything special tonight?"
"Try him out some time, then let me know," P'draig quips back to Ajatha, grinning widely and clinks with P'traul. "Ahoy there Fayre. Elbows in good condition tonight? Excellent." Down the hatch goes a nice mouthful.
Paul spends a moment drawing from his glass, and takes another long whiff of it. Finally, the brownrider does smack his lips and nod approvingly. "Good choice, sir," is his stamp of approval, along with a lopsided smile for Ajatha, before he's shuffling his stool over a little for Fayre and putting down his drink to salute a proper salute. "It is a fine art, indeed. Sharp little elbows help, too," he adds, demonstrating with a bent arm and jabbing at the air. "And -- no, ma'am, naturally not, although I can't speak for Yjimeth."
Fayre scans Ajatha from head to toe and slides off her newly-acquired stool for a moment to roughly compare their heights. "Huh, that sounds like a pretty good strategy. Wouldn't think a taller gal like yourself would need it." Examination done, the weyrwoman quickly returns to her seat before any nearby weyrfolk can nab it. "Actually, I wouldn't mind just a cup o' water or somethin' simple like that. For a change, y'know?" For P'draig, she proudly wiggles her elbows about. "Yup, I'd say they're in pretty good shape. I wonder what a bad shape for an elbow would be. Broken, I s'pose." She chuckles as P'traul jabs his own around and admits, "Though, they ain't nice n'bony like that. So probably not as good at pokin'."
Ajatha quirks a brow at P'draig and cocks her head with a laugh. "I'll just take your word for it, I think." Glancing back to Fayre, she half turns to pluck one of those many pitchers from the back counter, selecting a glass and pouring her water to put before her. "You'd think, but there're them that certainly are taller than I. Still makes it tough to move through the packed house. Sometimes taller isn't everything - need a little more muscle to discourage pinching fingers and drunk patrons. Lots of fun trying to see how many you can dodge." Wryly.
Winking at Ajatha, P'draig turns a little to nod down at Fayre. "Still effective," he tells her with a grin about her elbows and quirks both brows. "Water?" He looks across at P'traul again and beams about the drink. "Yeah, not too hard on the tongue and it takes a few to hit you," he says about it.
P'traul snorts softly his amusement, and whether it's directed at Fayre or Ajatha isn't quite clear, but it's plain amusement with no mocking on his end, and he even glances down in surprise at the elbow in question and touches it with his other hand. "Good prodding elbows," he decides with a nod, and continues mischievously, "My services are available, at a price, ladies." What a gentleman! "Water?" He echoes P'draig, too, and tilts his head curiously towards Fayre. "These Fiesty Girls are fair nice." He jiggles his own in indication.
Fayre accepts the glass with a grateful nod. "Thanks, lass. Bit nice to get a drink I don't have to pay for, eh?" She takes a sip, catching P'draig's expression out of the corner of the eye as she does so. She winks at the brownrider and clarifies, "Just tryin' it for a change. No little Fayre is goin' to be runnin' around anytime soon--though my sis just found out she's three months along, as luck would have it." She eyes the drink P'traul's wiggling about, her eyebrows furrowing just a bit. "Huh. Not often I see a drink I don't recognize. What's in it?" It seems her resolve for 'just water' might not last for too long.
Ajatha lifts the other brow to join the first and glances between the three of them with a smirk just waiting to take residence upon her mouth, a wink shooting toward Paddy. "A price, P'traul? What do you charge, another Feisty Girl or a poke with a sharp elbow?" Perking right up at Fayre, she moves down the bar to idly take up a nondescript other customer's abandoned drink and see that it's put in the bin - not that she's going in the back yet. "Cinnamon and rum, a feisty drink named after a feisty night Paddy had. Or so we've heard."
P'draig bobs his head in agreement several times about the Feisty Girls. "Tasty stuff," he notes and waggles his glass a little. "How about if I pay then?" he offers to Fayre and blinks a few times. "Oh - that's not what I was thinking," he notes about Fayre's condition, "but congratulations to your sister." And Ajatha's teasing actually brings a slight blush to P'draig's cheeks. "Ahhh, more that the girl in question was feisty all on her own. Without any tumbling being involved. But ... yes, a very feisty night."
Paul starts a little at Ajatha's suggestion and clasps inattentively at his own side as though protecting it from a forthcoming jabbing. "I meant," he starts, stops, and starts again: "I could jab my way in and out. For you." Isn't he just the sweetest? He turns a smile on P'draig as though looking for back up, but then adds with a chuckle over his shoulder again, "But I suppose just knowing I had done a job well done... that would be enough." Right. Except now he's holding his own glass up for Fayre's inspection, just as P'draig had done for him moments ago. "Oh, it's lovely, weyrwoman." In demonstration, he takes a sip.
P'draig light pink cheeks aren't alone, as Fayre's quickly gain a rosey hue of their own. "Oh, ah. I guess it's just on my mind 'cause of her, y'know?" She sheepishly twirls the loose end of her braided hair and attempts to hide her reddened cheeks behind her cup of water by taking a large gulp of it. The weyrwoman conveniently latches onto the other embarassing topic of the moment--the one not focused on her. "A feisty gal, eh? Anyone that I know, P'draig?" As for the elbow conversation, Fayre raises her eyebrows at Paul and playfully asks, "Wouldn't it be more convenient to give us lessons in jabbin'? That way, we can do it even if you're not around to protect us poor, innocent ladies."
Ajatha actually seems pleased at P'draig's coloring at her teasing and chuckles happily there. "Who ever said anything about tumbling, Paddy? I don't think I did, did I? I just said a feisty night. That doesn't -always- mean tumbling." But Fayre and P'traul get her grinning again soon enough. "You are so sweet, P'traul. But.. she has a point. Couldn't you just show us? We've no idea how to execute the best technique, you know." Playfully.
"It does in my world these days," P'draig rejoinders, color fading now and tips up his glass for another sip. "Tam, former bartender here for a bit," the brownrider explains. "Very ... feisty." He shoots a look down towards P'traul, chuckling. "Elbow lessons."
P'traul casts a quick look between the matching (though fading) pinked dragonriders before he chuckles a low laugh and ducks into his drink for another sip of his own Fiesty Girl. He emerges for air to answer breezily, "Sure, I suppose I could do that. But then where's the fun in that?" He presses his lips together, thoughtful. "Then I couldn't, you know. Triumphantly save the day for the damsels in the distress."
Fayre can't help but roll her eyes at P'traul. "Yeah, 'cause the best way to a gal's heart is by poking someone with your elbow. Real romantic, that." She chuckles and shakes her head before taking another long sip of her decidedly plain drink. Her free hand is resting on her leg, where her fingers begin to tap as the weyrwoman searches through her memory. "Tam...Tam...I think I know that name, and my mind's conjurin' up a fuzzy image." She shrugs, giving up. "Even though we're a small Weyr, it's hard to remember everyone, y'know?"
"Your world must be.. very interesting," Ajatha puts back toward P'draig and shakes her head at P'traul. "Seriously, I reinterate my earlier statement that some of the brownriders are rather worse than the bronzeriders. Crazy people."
"I have just one word for you, Ajatha," P'draig says with a sunny smile, "T'mic." After that he sinks more of his drink, elbows resting comfortably on the bar top. "Elbows save the day, hm P'traul?" For Fayre, a nod. "Puffball blond hair, little, about this high" he holds a hand out. Beat. "Feisty."
Paul lifts his brows lightly over towards Fayre, chomping thoughtfully at his lip. "Better than poking the gal with your elbow, though, right?" He offers hopefully with a faint laugh, and to Ajatha, he brightly widens his smile as though to prove his sanity. Or insanity, whatever. And since Tam was before his time, the young brownrider only shakes his head with a snort of laughter. "Would that not be a given, P'draig?" The feisty bit.
Fayre considers P'traul's response by tilting her head to the right, then to the left as she wiggles her hand in the air. "Eh. Yeah, I guess. Jabbin' the lass would certainly get her attention though, right? Then ya offer her a drink in apology, an' it all goes from there." Easy as pie, really. Her lips twist into a smirk as P'draig describes Tam. "Aye, I think we all the feisty bit from the drink name." Her eyes narrow as she presumably tries to picture Tam based on P'draig's added description, and she does seem to have some success. "Yeah, I think I remember orderin' drinks from her a few times."
"If we're talking greenriders, P'draig," Ajatha starts. "You should have met my father, T'hvan, while he was up here. Half of Southern Weyr and at least one Weyrleader has fallen under his spell. Or so he would like others to think, on the latter, the way he moons after the man from Ierne." Shiftyeying playfully, she pointedly catches her lip between her teeth to keep a grin at bay - it doesn't quite work, though. Quirking a brow at P'traul, she narrows her eyes at him in amusement and points a finger his way. "Don't give me that look, you. Not when I'm on this side of the bar where you get your drinks." Blithely. "Jabbing the ribs would either get her attention - or a boney elbow in your own ribs. Bruises abound that way."
Olesia arrives from the main beach.
Olesia has arrived.
"Mic's from Southern," P'draig notes, "probably a connection," the brownrider says, easygoing, clearly unbothered by his weyrmate's ... tendencies. He rubs a hand across his chin about the drink's namesake. "Let's just say, she was wise beyond her years and not afraid to share her opinion." He smiles all around and retires behind his glass.
Look? What look? P'traul is /totally innocent/, isn't he? And as for his drink... Paul circles his hand protectively around it and pulls it nearer to his chest, nodding agreeably. Fayre, for her clever clever pick up idea, has earned a bright look from round eyes, and a thoughtful, "Hmmm. Do you really think that would work?" Hurriedly, he adds, "Not that I'm -- you know. I don't need, ah. Help." Oh. It's his turn to colour pink and drown a flush behind his drink.
Fayre grins at poor P'traul and reaches out to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Hey, even the best folk need help sometimes." Her formal tone makes it seem like she's talking about something serious, such as proper Hold etiquette. But no. It's just about silly pickup lines. "I mean, even the pros need new angles, right? Y'can't just use the same stuff over and over." She takes a sip from her almost-empty glass, but gets knocked from behind by a couple of weyrfolk trying to squeeze there way through the crowd. The rider splutters and spills what's left of her drink on her sarong, forcing the weyrwoman to blush for the second time in one night. "Aww, shards. Been nice seein' y'all, but I must head off to find a clean outfit. An' some peace and quiet." She abandons her now-empty glass on the bar and weaves her way out to the beach, doing her best to avoid any further crashes.
Ajatha smirks happily at Paddy. "Probably a connection. Though, Dad also has a nasty little habit of poking people.. though it's now so much with an elbow as it is with a pugil stick - best in all Pern." Pride. And them.. "..When Mama's not around." Blinking between Fayre and P'traul, she groans softly and shifts the look to Fayre only. "Oh, no. You know that he's going to be doing that the very, very next time he comes in here. Don't give the man any more ideas." Sayeth she that is the only one seemingly immune to this blushing epidemic. Must be a rider thing. Tsking at the spill, she waves after the weyrwoman.
Fayre has left.
"See you Fayre," is all P'draig offers over as she excuses herself, though his expression is sympathetic for her plight. "As for myself, I think I'll stick to the more usual methods of attracting and/or encouraging interest," the brownrider says and finishes off his drink. He puts down some more marks on the bar for Ajatha's tip. "THank you for the company and conversation, I should be off home to see what my ... licentious greenrider is up to." With one last wink around, Paddy pushes off that stool and heads out, hands stuck in pockets.
P'draig has left.
Olesia is weaving in as Paddy and Fayre head out, she's approaching the bar not even moments later and settling herself down. There's a wave towards P'traul before she's smiling at Ajatha. "Heey, how is it? Busy busy? Needin' any help, there?" There's a teasing grin and she's settling back comfortably while glancing around the Sandbar, as if searching for someone. With a shrug, she looks to P'traul with a slight smile. "How're you doin', too?"
P'traul /knows/ his proper Hold etiquette, see there's the problem, and he sighs softly before he's grimacing in sympathy for the spilled drink; he even reaches for a napkin to dap, maybe, but then Fayre's already made her escape and instead he just folds it in his lap. "At least it would just be a simple poke in the ribs to get some attention, and not a --" he motions after Fayre, "-- stained dress? ... good evening, P'draig," Paul bids once the older brownrider stands, and the younger wingrider salutes in his wake; this turns into a waves for Olesia as she approaches and he pats the bar beside him as she seats herself. "Hello. I'm good, thank you! And yourself?" He's all proper again. It's just habit, really.
Ajatha just shakes her head after Paddy as he moves off and has a smile ready and waiting when Olesia appears at the bar this time, going to clear off the abandoned glasses again, this time Paddy and Fayre's. "I hope it won't leave a stain. Hey. It's good for now. Unless you want to take up the bar this time."
Olesia grins at P'traul's formality, winking. "Ah, don't be so formal. It's okay." With a giggle she's turning her gaze towards Ajatha. "Well, if it's not too busy I'll hang 'round here. When we get waves, I'll hop back and help with drinks." There's a chuckle then as she winks at the other. "Just gimme a yell if you need another pair of hands though, yea? I've got ya."
"Relax, holder boy," Ajatha posses toward P'traul with another lazy grin his way between taking care of two more orders - alcohol's flowing freely tonight. "It's just a few girls 'round you - along with the rest of the bar, but who's counting that." A wink at Olesia. "Sure thing, but I think we're good for now."
Paul's surrounded by bartenders! He swivels his head back and forth between them, and chuckles lightly for Olesia's wink. "My apologies -- old habits die hard." Usually. So instead he draws at his drink, almost down to the end of it, and then he toys with the glass for a moment. "Don't know if we've been properly introduced," he says eventually, "though I've seen you plenty enough." He offers his hand, though it's wet with condensation and he wipes it hastily off on his pants. "P'traul, of Yjimeth."
Olesia giggles softly, returning Ajatha's wink. "Right, I'll be here. Most interesting place around." She offers, then tilts her head as she watches P'traul with a slow grin. There's a grip to his hand after he wipes it. "Olesia. Ollie, if you please. What everyone calls me." A teasing wink before she releases his hand. "Well met, P'traul."
Ajatha merely chuckles between the pair and hooks that hip on the edge of her side of the bar again, arms folding loosely across her stomach happily enough. "M'Ajatha, for the record. Jathi, most of the time."
"Ollie," P'traul repeats with a firm nod and an answering smile, and then, to Ajatha: "... and Jathi. Ollie and Jathi," he chuckles softly. "Do you have to have matching names? You know. To work here," he nods towards the bar; more likely, he nods at Ajatha's hip, but it's unintentional. Really.
Olesia grins, shaking her head. "Nah, just works out that way, dear." Another wink and she's waving at Ajatha. "Hey, 'm heading to the caverns for a bit. You need anything Jathi? Sweetroll? Anything?" She's taking the order (or lack of one) and then heading out after flashing P'traul a flirty smile.
Ajatha grins lazily and cocks her head with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. "Nope, you're just that lucky, P'traul. Don't need anything for now, Ollie. See you."
P'traul snaps his fingers with a distinctly 'oh-shucks' sort of way. "Too bad I hated the nickname 'Paulie', as it probably means I can never work here." Shame. But it's with a lingering chuckle that the brownrider pushes himself from the bar. "I should get going, regardless. Drills early tomorrow." And so he does, with a farewell for both bartenders.
"It's for the best!" Ajatha calls after the brownrider lazily at that - and goes to take another order. Woe is she, for working.
What: In celebration of his new tapping, Paul heads down to the Sandbar, where there's a fair gathering of people to celebrate with!
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
"Yeah, that was a long time ago, more than twenty turns," P'draig confesses with another laugh and twirls his empty glasses. "To each their own, right? In terms of fun." He winks at the barmaid and tilts his glass. "Refill, please?"
Always room for another brownrider, right? A teeny weeny brownrider? Well, P'traul's not that teeny weeny, but he's got to squeeze in for a seat anyway, considering the hour, but he's lucky to have one right next to Paddy and Paul beams a greeting to his old weyrlingmaster. "P'draig, sir! And /Ajatha/," he sighs happily, "A sight for sore eyes! Please, could I have something fruity and tasty and delicious? Surprise me!"
Fayre arrives from the main beach.
Fayre has arrived.
Ajatha returns to the bartop long enough to take back the brownrider's glass to get him set back up with a refilly, a lazy smile on her mouth. "What can y'do though, huh?" It /has/ seemed to have gotten a bit more crowded, which has drawn one or two more of the bartenders back into their work from the back or various places in the crowd, appearing like woodwork come alive! "P'traul! There's my favorite weyrling. Or I guess it would be full rider now, huh? Surprise you? You sure you want me to do that? Askin' for trouble.." But she's turning back again to browse through the drinks to come up with a surprise for the man.
P'draig turns about on his stool at P'traul's cheery greeting and grins. "Hey there," he says good-naturedly while waiting on his new drink. "And a surprise drink, brave man," Paddy compliments. "I had Tam surprise me one time and that's how we got my favorite drink, named in her honor: the Feisty Girl." And he tilts his glass as an example of such.
"I'm feeling lucky," P'traul announces along with a proud little straightening of his shoulders. That's right! Full rider. He's got a Spinnaker knot and /everything/. He does lean in a little to sniff at P'draig's Feisty Girl, and his eyebrows go up. "Ooh," he nods, "it /smells/ good, at least."
Fayre might be lost in the usual Sandbar crowd thanks to her relatively short height, which isn't helped at all by the very thin sandals she wears. She's only just come in and is thus without a drink, so she's quick to head towards the bar to remedy that. The rider skirts around the edges of the main crowd, taking a shortcut alongside the gaming area.
Ajatha glances back over her shoulder innocently and then ambles on back. She takes a moment to refill said Feisty Girl and cocks a sly grin across the bar. "That's one way to get your own drink. You brownriders. Nearly as bad as bronzeriders. Worse, sometimes, in my experience." The grin flashes over at P'traul next, her other hand bringing around another glass to set before him - let him see how good a Feisty Girl drink is for himself. "Congratulations! You survived without too many bouts of latrine duty or running as discipline, I hope. Hi there!" The latter, of course, for Fayre.
"Congratulations again," P'draig wishes sincerely, though he offered those at the time and at the party. "Cinnamon and rum," he explains about the drink in his hand. He leans against the bar, seated at a stool, talking with Ajatha and P'traul, evening in the bar is in full swing. "I will have to concede, that I am probably worse than most bronzeriders," Paddy admits. "You know who I'm weyrmated to." He grins at the barmaid and sips from his second drink.
"Why," P'traul lightly spreads his fingers across his chest, round eyes widening still, "/Ajatha/. I resemble that remark!" Surely he meant resent, right? ... right? But his faint smile means he's joking, and he accepts his very own Feisty Girl with a grateful nod for the bartender. "Cinnamon and rum!" He repeats, lifting the glass and aiming to clink it against P'draig's in a cheers sort of motion. And then there's Fayre! Oh-so-casually, the newly minted Spinnaker rider will elbow the occupant in the seat next to him for a moment or two until he gets the hint and moves off, with a sharp salute for the weyrwoman. "Good evening, weyrwoman," Paul greets genially.
Fayre lets out a long sigh of relief when she manages to squeeze through the crowd and successfully arrives at the bar. Finding herself amongst familiar faces, or at least one very familiar and two vaguely familiar faces, she grins. "Almost a workout just gettin' here, eh? And this place is supposed to help folks relax." P'traul's actions earn him a smirk from Fayre, but she gratefully hops onto the neighbouring seat. "Ah, many thanks! I admit, I'm still workin' on the fine art of elbowin' people outta their seats." She gestures towards the young rider's new knot and adds, "Congratulations, too. Hope ya don't give A'mon /too/ much trouble."
"Oh, your weyrmate can't be -that- bad. ../Though/." Ajatha pauses as if to think about that one but soon offers up a good-natured grin, obviously teasing at P'draig. Her grin widens in amusement at P'traul, hooking a hip on the bar again to be sociable for a moment. "You certainly resemble it." Innocently. The weyrwoman finally getting to the bar has her straightening a bit attentively, though she dips her head in greeting. "Evening, weyrwoman. Normally I have to find one of the taller men to make way to get through here. It's always an interesting trek. Can I get you anything special tonight?"
"Try him out some time, then let me know," P'draig quips back to Ajatha, grinning widely and clinks with P'traul. "Ahoy there Fayre. Elbows in good condition tonight? Excellent." Down the hatch goes a nice mouthful.
Paul spends a moment drawing from his glass, and takes another long whiff of it. Finally, the brownrider does smack his lips and nod approvingly. "Good choice, sir," is his stamp of approval, along with a lopsided smile for Ajatha, before he's shuffling his stool over a little for Fayre and putting down his drink to salute a proper salute. "It is a fine art, indeed. Sharp little elbows help, too," he adds, demonstrating with a bent arm and jabbing at the air. "And -- no, ma'am, naturally not, although I can't speak for Yjimeth."
Fayre scans Ajatha from head to toe and slides off her newly-acquired stool for a moment to roughly compare their heights. "Huh, that sounds like a pretty good strategy. Wouldn't think a taller gal like yourself would need it." Examination done, the weyrwoman quickly returns to her seat before any nearby weyrfolk can nab it. "Actually, I wouldn't mind just a cup o' water or somethin' simple like that. For a change, y'know?" For P'draig, she proudly wiggles her elbows about. "Yup, I'd say they're in pretty good shape. I wonder what a bad shape for an elbow would be. Broken, I s'pose." She chuckles as P'traul jabs his own around and admits, "Though, they ain't nice n'bony like that. So probably not as good at pokin'."
Ajatha quirks a brow at P'draig and cocks her head with a laugh. "I'll just take your word for it, I think." Glancing back to Fayre, she half turns to pluck one of those many pitchers from the back counter, selecting a glass and pouring her water to put before her. "You'd think, but there're them that certainly are taller than I. Still makes it tough to move through the packed house. Sometimes taller isn't everything - need a little more muscle to discourage pinching fingers and drunk patrons. Lots of fun trying to see how many you can dodge." Wryly.
Winking at Ajatha, P'draig turns a little to nod down at Fayre. "Still effective," he tells her with a grin about her elbows and quirks both brows. "Water?" He looks across at P'traul again and beams about the drink. "Yeah, not too hard on the tongue and it takes a few to hit you," he says about it.
P'traul snorts softly his amusement, and whether it's directed at Fayre or Ajatha isn't quite clear, but it's plain amusement with no mocking on his end, and he even glances down in surprise at the elbow in question and touches it with his other hand. "Good prodding elbows," he decides with a nod, and continues mischievously, "My services are available, at a price, ladies." What a gentleman! "Water?" He echoes P'draig, too, and tilts his head curiously towards Fayre. "These Fiesty Girls are fair nice." He jiggles his own in indication.
Fayre accepts the glass with a grateful nod. "Thanks, lass. Bit nice to get a drink I don't have to pay for, eh?" She takes a sip, catching P'draig's expression out of the corner of the eye as she does so. She winks at the brownrider and clarifies, "Just tryin' it for a change. No little Fayre is goin' to be runnin' around anytime soon--though my sis just found out she's three months along, as luck would have it." She eyes the drink P'traul's wiggling about, her eyebrows furrowing just a bit. "Huh. Not often I see a drink I don't recognize. What's in it?" It seems her resolve for 'just water' might not last for too long.
Ajatha lifts the other brow to join the first and glances between the three of them with a smirk just waiting to take residence upon her mouth, a wink shooting toward Paddy. "A price, P'traul? What do you charge, another Feisty Girl or a poke with a sharp elbow?" Perking right up at Fayre, she moves down the bar to idly take up a nondescript other customer's abandoned drink and see that it's put in the bin - not that she's going in the back yet. "Cinnamon and rum, a feisty drink named after a feisty night Paddy had. Or so we've heard."
P'draig bobs his head in agreement several times about the Feisty Girls. "Tasty stuff," he notes and waggles his glass a little. "How about if I pay then?" he offers to Fayre and blinks a few times. "Oh - that's not what I was thinking," he notes about Fayre's condition, "but congratulations to your sister." And Ajatha's teasing actually brings a slight blush to P'draig's cheeks. "Ahhh, more that the girl in question was feisty all on her own. Without any tumbling being involved. But ... yes, a very feisty night."
Paul starts a little at Ajatha's suggestion and clasps inattentively at his own side as though protecting it from a forthcoming jabbing. "I meant," he starts, stops, and starts again: "I could jab my way in and out. For you." Isn't he just the sweetest? He turns a smile on P'draig as though looking for back up, but then adds with a chuckle over his shoulder again, "But I suppose just knowing I had done a job well done... that would be enough." Right. Except now he's holding his own glass up for Fayre's inspection, just as P'draig had done for him moments ago. "Oh, it's lovely, weyrwoman." In demonstration, he takes a sip.
P'draig light pink cheeks aren't alone, as Fayre's quickly gain a rosey hue of their own. "Oh, ah. I guess it's just on my mind 'cause of her, y'know?" She sheepishly twirls the loose end of her braided hair and attempts to hide her reddened cheeks behind her cup of water by taking a large gulp of it. The weyrwoman conveniently latches onto the other embarassing topic of the moment--the one not focused on her. "A feisty gal, eh? Anyone that I know, P'draig?" As for the elbow conversation, Fayre raises her eyebrows at Paul and playfully asks, "Wouldn't it be more convenient to give us lessons in jabbin'? That way, we can do it even if you're not around to protect us poor, innocent ladies."
Ajatha actually seems pleased at P'draig's coloring at her teasing and chuckles happily there. "Who ever said anything about tumbling, Paddy? I don't think I did, did I? I just said a feisty night. That doesn't -always- mean tumbling." But Fayre and P'traul get her grinning again soon enough. "You are so sweet, P'traul. But.. she has a point. Couldn't you just show us? We've no idea how to execute the best technique, you know." Playfully.
"It does in my world these days," P'draig rejoinders, color fading now and tips up his glass for another sip. "Tam, former bartender here for a bit," the brownrider explains. "Very ... feisty." He shoots a look down towards P'traul, chuckling. "Elbow lessons."
P'traul casts a quick look between the matching (though fading) pinked dragonriders before he chuckles a low laugh and ducks into his drink for another sip of his own Fiesty Girl. He emerges for air to answer breezily, "Sure, I suppose I could do that. But then where's the fun in that?" He presses his lips together, thoughtful. "Then I couldn't, you know. Triumphantly save the day for the damsels in the distress."
Fayre can't help but roll her eyes at P'traul. "Yeah, 'cause the best way to a gal's heart is by poking someone with your elbow. Real romantic, that." She chuckles and shakes her head before taking another long sip of her decidedly plain drink. Her free hand is resting on her leg, where her fingers begin to tap as the weyrwoman searches through her memory. "Tam...Tam...I think I know that name, and my mind's conjurin' up a fuzzy image." She shrugs, giving up. "Even though we're a small Weyr, it's hard to remember everyone, y'know?"
"Your world must be.. very interesting," Ajatha puts back toward P'draig and shakes her head at P'traul. "Seriously, I reinterate my earlier statement that some of the brownriders are rather worse than the bronzeriders. Crazy people."
"I have just one word for you, Ajatha," P'draig says with a sunny smile, "T'mic." After that he sinks more of his drink, elbows resting comfortably on the bar top. "Elbows save the day, hm P'traul?" For Fayre, a nod. "Puffball blond hair, little, about this high" he holds a hand out. Beat. "Feisty."
Paul lifts his brows lightly over towards Fayre, chomping thoughtfully at his lip. "Better than poking the gal with your elbow, though, right?" He offers hopefully with a faint laugh, and to Ajatha, he brightly widens his smile as though to prove his sanity. Or insanity, whatever. And since Tam was before his time, the young brownrider only shakes his head with a snort of laughter. "Would that not be a given, P'draig?" The feisty bit.
Fayre considers P'traul's response by tilting her head to the right, then to the left as she wiggles her hand in the air. "Eh. Yeah, I guess. Jabbin' the lass would certainly get her attention though, right? Then ya offer her a drink in apology, an' it all goes from there." Easy as pie, really. Her lips twist into a smirk as P'draig describes Tam. "Aye, I think we all the feisty bit from the drink name." Her eyes narrow as she presumably tries to picture Tam based on P'draig's added description, and she does seem to have some success. "Yeah, I think I remember orderin' drinks from her a few times."
"If we're talking greenriders, P'draig," Ajatha starts. "You should have met my father, T'hvan, while he was up here. Half of Southern Weyr and at least one Weyrleader has fallen under his spell. Or so he would like others to think, on the latter, the way he moons after the man from Ierne." Shiftyeying playfully, she pointedly catches her lip between her teeth to keep a grin at bay - it doesn't quite work, though. Quirking a brow at P'traul, she narrows her eyes at him in amusement and points a finger his way. "Don't give me that look, you. Not when I'm on this side of the bar where you get your drinks." Blithely. "Jabbing the ribs would either get her attention - or a boney elbow in your own ribs. Bruises abound that way."
Olesia arrives from the main beach.
Olesia has arrived.
"Mic's from Southern," P'draig notes, "probably a connection," the brownrider says, easygoing, clearly unbothered by his weyrmate's ... tendencies. He rubs a hand across his chin about the drink's namesake. "Let's just say, she was wise beyond her years and not afraid to share her opinion." He smiles all around and retires behind his glass.
Look? What look? P'traul is /totally innocent/, isn't he? And as for his drink... Paul circles his hand protectively around it and pulls it nearer to his chest, nodding agreeably. Fayre, for her clever clever pick up idea, has earned a bright look from round eyes, and a thoughtful, "Hmmm. Do you really think that would work?" Hurriedly, he adds, "Not that I'm -- you know. I don't need, ah. Help." Oh. It's his turn to colour pink and drown a flush behind his drink.
Fayre grins at poor P'traul and reaches out to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Hey, even the best folk need help sometimes." Her formal tone makes it seem like she's talking about something serious, such as proper Hold etiquette. But no. It's just about silly pickup lines. "I mean, even the pros need new angles, right? Y'can't just use the same stuff over and over." She takes a sip from her almost-empty glass, but gets knocked from behind by a couple of weyrfolk trying to squeeze there way through the crowd. The rider splutters and spills what's left of her drink on her sarong, forcing the weyrwoman to blush for the second time in one night. "Aww, shards. Been nice seein' y'all, but I must head off to find a clean outfit. An' some peace and quiet." She abandons her now-empty glass on the bar and weaves her way out to the beach, doing her best to avoid any further crashes.
Ajatha smirks happily at Paddy. "Probably a connection. Though, Dad also has a nasty little habit of poking people.. though it's now so much with an elbow as it is with a pugil stick - best in all Pern." Pride. And them.. "..When Mama's not around." Blinking between Fayre and P'traul, she groans softly and shifts the look to Fayre only. "Oh, no. You know that he's going to be doing that the very, very next time he comes in here. Don't give the man any more ideas." Sayeth she that is the only one seemingly immune to this blushing epidemic. Must be a rider thing. Tsking at the spill, she waves after the weyrwoman.
Fayre has left.
"See you Fayre," is all P'draig offers over as she excuses herself, though his expression is sympathetic for her plight. "As for myself, I think I'll stick to the more usual methods of attracting and/or encouraging interest," the brownrider says and finishes off his drink. He puts down some more marks on the bar for Ajatha's tip. "THank you for the company and conversation, I should be off home to see what my ... licentious greenrider is up to." With one last wink around, Paddy pushes off that stool and heads out, hands stuck in pockets.
P'draig has left.
Olesia is weaving in as Paddy and Fayre head out, she's approaching the bar not even moments later and settling herself down. There's a wave towards P'traul before she's smiling at Ajatha. "Heey, how is it? Busy busy? Needin' any help, there?" There's a teasing grin and she's settling back comfortably while glancing around the Sandbar, as if searching for someone. With a shrug, she looks to P'traul with a slight smile. "How're you doin', too?"
P'traul /knows/ his proper Hold etiquette, see there's the problem, and he sighs softly before he's grimacing in sympathy for the spilled drink; he even reaches for a napkin to dap, maybe, but then Fayre's already made her escape and instead he just folds it in his lap. "At least it would just be a simple poke in the ribs to get some attention, and not a --" he motions after Fayre, "-- stained dress? ... good evening, P'draig," Paul bids once the older brownrider stands, and the younger wingrider salutes in his wake; this turns into a waves for Olesia as she approaches and he pats the bar beside him as she seats herself. "Hello. I'm good, thank you! And yourself?" He's all proper again. It's just habit, really.
Ajatha just shakes her head after Paddy as he moves off and has a smile ready and waiting when Olesia appears at the bar this time, going to clear off the abandoned glasses again, this time Paddy and Fayre's. "I hope it won't leave a stain. Hey. It's good for now. Unless you want to take up the bar this time."
Olesia grins at P'traul's formality, winking. "Ah, don't be so formal. It's okay." With a giggle she's turning her gaze towards Ajatha. "Well, if it's not too busy I'll hang 'round here. When we get waves, I'll hop back and help with drinks." There's a chuckle then as she winks at the other. "Just gimme a yell if you need another pair of hands though, yea? I've got ya."
"Relax, holder boy," Ajatha posses toward P'traul with another lazy grin his way between taking care of two more orders - alcohol's flowing freely tonight. "It's just a few girls 'round you - along with the rest of the bar, but who's counting that." A wink at Olesia. "Sure thing, but I think we're good for now."
Paul's surrounded by bartenders! He swivels his head back and forth between them, and chuckles lightly for Olesia's wink. "My apologies -- old habits die hard." Usually. So instead he draws at his drink, almost down to the end of it, and then he toys with the glass for a moment. "Don't know if we've been properly introduced," he says eventually, "though I've seen you plenty enough." He offers his hand, though it's wet with condensation and he wipes it hastily off on his pants. "P'traul, of Yjimeth."
Olesia giggles softly, returning Ajatha's wink. "Right, I'll be here. Most interesting place around." She offers, then tilts her head as she watches P'traul with a slow grin. There's a grip to his hand after he wipes it. "Olesia. Ollie, if you please. What everyone calls me." A teasing wink before she releases his hand. "Well met, P'traul."
Ajatha merely chuckles between the pair and hooks that hip on the edge of her side of the bar again, arms folding loosely across her stomach happily enough. "M'Ajatha, for the record. Jathi, most of the time."
"Ollie," P'traul repeats with a firm nod and an answering smile, and then, to Ajatha: "... and Jathi. Ollie and Jathi," he chuckles softly. "Do you have to have matching names? You know. To work here," he nods towards the bar; more likely, he nods at Ajatha's hip, but it's unintentional. Really.
Olesia grins, shaking her head. "Nah, just works out that way, dear." Another wink and she's waving at Ajatha. "Hey, 'm heading to the caverns for a bit. You need anything Jathi? Sweetroll? Anything?" She's taking the order (or lack of one) and then heading out after flashing P'traul a flirty smile.
Ajatha grins lazily and cocks her head with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. "Nope, you're just that lucky, P'traul. Don't need anything for now, Ollie. See you."
P'traul snaps his fingers with a distinctly 'oh-shucks' sort of way. "Too bad I hated the nickname 'Paulie', as it probably means I can never work here." Shame. But it's with a lingering chuckle that the brownrider pushes himself from the bar. "I should get going, regardless. Drills early tomorrow." And so he does, with a farewell for both bartenders.
"It's for the best!" Ajatha calls after the brownrider lazily at that - and goes to take another order. Woe is she, for working.