rythmn and grace in the echos of thunder

[soundofarrows]

[ooc: backdated to Friday]

There's an band playing a blend of Irish rock at some pub called the Red Gryphon. A flier for the show drew Eilir's attention, and she had nothing better to do, so she decided too brave the storm. Now she's glad she came. The band's good. She feels exhilarated by the storm and the music. Grinning, she heads over the bar

Comments

[kineticmachine]

Said table Eilir's at happens to be next to the table Arlin's claimed as his own in the corner. He's not here solely for the band or the beer (not that he's drinking beer, or really ever drinks it if he can help it), though the band's alright if one likes the rowdiness that goes along with it. The Red Gryphon just happens to be one of the closer establishments that serve alcohol to his flat, and it's storming pretty good outside, so he didn't want to spend a lot of time getting to a place he wasn't planning on being able to drive home from. Besides, despite band and beer, the place isn't terribly crowded due to the storm, so it suits him fine

[soundofarrows]

Eilir doesn't notice Arlin when she first enters the pub. She's here for the music and beer, and figures the storm will keep away most people not serious about one or the other. Hence, no one out to spoil other people's fun. What, with a fantastic storm, and music to make her feel at home, her guard is down a bit.

She does take note of him however, once she's settled in and survey's the room a bit closer. It's not like she's going to miss someone watching from only a few feet away. She's in a good mood though, and not inclined to be terribly suspicious. But for all she knows he's sketching her as part of the scene.

Instead, Arlin receives an amused look from over the edge of her glass. The look may or may not contain an twinkle of mischief.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin takes a sip of his own drink, momentarily stopping the sketching. He raises an eyebrow at her slightly-mischievous look, giving her a sort of 'yes, I was watching you, what of it?' kind of look. It's not necessarily a challenge, though he knows that in this sort of atmosphere -- storm outside, beer and music inside, emotions running high in general -- it could be taken as one. He's not too concerned either way, especially since her expression and general demeanor isn't aggressive in the least.

Then he sets the drink aside and nods, just friendly acknowledgement, nothing more.