2/1/2012
11:12 PM
Logfile from Flandynn.
Xanadu Weyr - Wanderin' Wherry Tavern(#8821RJM)
It is often whispered in the crowds that converge here, that a certain Weyrleader was asked what he wanted in the remodeling of the pub that was not so long ago given a refreshing. He muttered back over the rim of his ever-present mug, "I don't care what you do with the place, just so long as there is plenty of ale." With that in mind, cask after cask of ale lines the walls of the tavern, the remodeler's idea of a jest. As they age, the casks bring a real rustic atmosphere to the pub, along with the deeply wooden flavor that seems to be the theme throughout.
The lighting is dim, as it should be in all good pubs, and the tables and chairs are plentiful. A long mahogany bar, intricately carved with runner beasts, stands vigilant duty at the head of the bar, lined with stools for those patrons that seek the bartender's company.
People: Fl'ynn and Derin
Other: Beldar
Obvious exits:
Clearing <O>
Derin is apparently off for the evening, or maybe there's just not a lot of need for search and rescue tonight. Either way, the wherhandler heads into the tavern, like he always does when the demand for his services is absent. A step taken inside, a glance shot around, a grin for the young bluerider seated on the cask. Over to the bar he goes, ordering up his usual, which normally consists of some sort of whiskey. Once he recieves the drink, he moves towards the teen blooey. "Evenin Fl'ynn." He greets.
Fl'ynn would greet, but it is that awkward moment when he is in the middle of doing one of those sips, only it turns more into a gulp at the greeting. Mug comes away, mouth opens, and instead of some kind of clever remark, he belches. His lips quirk a bit following, eyes slanting. "Hey." Drink raises in something of a toast or salute or somesuch. "How's tricks?"
Derin grins at the sip turned gulp, and then the belch. "Attractive, that." With a soft chuckle. "Don't much see ya in here, didna think ya were the drinkin type." And he'll pulls up next to the cask, sliding into a stool. "Tricks?" He currently doesn't have any tricks or something. "Just enjoyin a drink, apparently heroes ain't needed as much these nights." That's said with a hint of amusement.
"I don't drink and fly, and I'm always flying." The penance of being a member of Comet Wing. "Near to always on call, and if I'm not on call, I'm in the air. And if I'm not on call or in the air I'm sitting on my arse in some Faranth foresaken Hold. And if I'm not doing any of those things, I'm sleeping." Fl'ynn's grin grows as he speaks, deepening his dimples. "I was gone awhile. I guess I'm making up for it. That and I hear you can get knifed in here. Shady place." Grin grows. Oh yes.
Derin chuckles softly, taking a long draw on his whiskey. "Yeah, ya kin only get knifed iff'n you've th'misfortune of punchin a greenhandler and startin a brawl." He smirks, at that. "Flyin canna be so bad, at least ya get to go places other than th'mines or th'forest." Ah, the boring life of an ex-hero. "I still owe ya a peek don't I?" He chuckles quietly, looking over the young bluerider briefly.
"I make it a point of not punching greenriders. That may be where you went wrong." Fl'ynn points out, dropping his chin some as if bestowing some choice tip upon Derin. "Oh, hey. Yeah. You do. Thank you for reminding me that you owe me something." Because that is just awesome like that. "I swear, one of these days I hope I get a great big scar that I can show off to people."
Derin smirks, "Wouldn't quite call Yulio a greenrider, just a greenhandler, but hey, at least since the brawl he's left me alone for the mpsst part." So something good did come out of that big bad tavern brawl. The wherhandler takes another one of those long draws on his whiskey, then sets it aside and peels his shirt up a bit to reveal the short slash of a scar in his side. "It's nothing spectacular, really." And then the shrt is returned over the flesh there, and drink is taken back up.
Fl'ynn stands corrected, or at least sits corrected. "Oh. Well, what I say still stands." The teen leans over to get a good look as scared flesh is revealed, going squinty-eyed and purse-lipped. A finger starts to reach out as if to trace the line of it, only to be denied as the shirt covers. Awh. Pout. "Not bad. Not bad at all." He straightens and flashes Derin a broad grin. "I think I'd like a scar so people could fawn over it too. Too bad I wasn't here for that. Suppose I got my own licks, just in a different way." His grin tilts again, "Kind of surprised you are chancing showing up in here."
Derin did notice the finger heading towards the scar, and that makes him chuckle. "Dunna like revealing flesh in public. If ya want a better look, you'll hafta get me somewhere private." Is that an offer or a challenge? You decide. And wherhandler lifts drink again, finishing it off easily.
Challenge accepted. That would be the caption underneath Fl'ynn's face should he be an internet meme. Alas, the words that fall from his mouth don't quite fit the scene. "Oh? Why not? If you've got it, flaunt it. I just…" But the teen looks a little shifty next, not so confident. "Wait. Did you mean right now?"
Derin chuckles, "Alas, I'm 'fraid I don't got much to flaunt." So modest, he has to have muscles under there somewhere, right, he's a miner afterall. Regarding the bluerider, he just grins. "Whene'er." And then the wherhandler is turning back towards the bar, and another drink is quickly slid his way. The good thing about being a regular is that the 'tender already knows what you want before you do.
"I'm not subtle enough to know if you are fishing for compliments or not," Fl'ynn admits, looking even more sheepish. "But the shoulders. They can compete. Not that I can tell with all of your blushing violet modesty and all." Grin that follows his huge. It shows up rather dramatically among all of his otherwise dusky features.
Derin grins at sheepishness. Taking up the second drink, he chuckles softly at the blooey. "Well, I'm nay a very good fisherman." His attempt at a joke or something. Brown eyes regard the bluerider briefly. "Yer dragon hasn't abandoned ya anywhere recently, has he? Anyplace excitin'?" Yes, he'll try to change the subject for his own sake before he makes a fool of himself or something.
Fl'ynn's eyes open wide. "I love to fish. First time I met anyone from this Weyr I was fishing off their beach. I thought for sure I'd get my arse chased off their land. Wouldn't be the first time." Just as an aside or something. "No. He's snoozing. If he was deep asleep… well, I'd be seeing his dreams. And let me tell you, that's a trip that makes the run to Reaches seem like a courtyard stroll." Still perched upon one of those ale casks, he continues, "You don't have to fish. You can ask outright."
Derin chuckles as he sorta fails at changing the subject. "S'alright, compliments tend t'make me blush and act a fool anyway. S'better t'not get 'em." Or something like that anyway. Then there's the idea of a dragon's dreams. "Must be int'resting, me an' Dersk're close, but not like a rider and dragon. Reckon I'll ne'er experience that kind of bond, impressing a dragon would send Dersk away from me, and I don't wish to see him put down."
"I can impress a dragon. I can't impress a firelizard. I wonder if that means something…" Fl'ynn muses, his dark gaze slanting away in bemusement. Of course, his dragon has about the attention span of a firelizard, so that really doesn't help explain things either. Leather slides against wood, the teen sliding down to set his booted feet upon the worn and scuffed floor. His smile softens while looking to Derin, reasoning instead, "Or get more of them and get used to them."
Derin grins at the young bluerider as he slides off the cask. "Aye, well, that might work." He takes a draw from his glass. "Firelizards're jus' flyin' stomachs anyhow." Says the man who spoils his little greenflit rotten. "They are amusin tho, I hafta give 'em that." He remains on his stool as brown eyes regard the blooey. "Maybe y'kin give me somemore of 'em after I let y'see my scar more." And the wherhandler does something he doesn't normally do, he winks at the rider.
Fl'ynn sets his mug aside after draining the last of it. Nowhere near as good as the stuff Ers'lan has offered him, but ale is ale as far as Fl'ynn's rather unrefined palate knows. "Holding you to it!" Fl'ynn announces with a broad grin. "I'm bound by this agreement; you are too," he also notes, bringing his wrists together as if in a rather figurate example of binding. It isn't the buzz, it is pure Fl'ynn that has the teen next sketching a bow for Derin, properly dramatic 'cause he saw a Harper do it once. Then he makes a leg, whistling as he leaves. The song? His own making.
Derin watches until the bluerider disappears, chuckling softly to himself. Bound by the agreement, got it. "Clear skies, Fl'ynn." He calls after the blooey's retreating back end.