Quid Pro Quo

Xanadu Weyr - Wanderin' Wherry Tavern


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.

Same old shit, different day, isn't that how the saying goes? Once again, chairs are askew in the tavern, but this time it's an irritated Dragonhealer instead of an unwittingly proddy goldrider that's caused the havoc. Sigam made good time fleeing the stage, for there's already a glass in front of him, and it's conspicuously half-empty. "Sharding son of a…," he's muttering with little coherence, leaning back on two legs to balance the same exact chair he'd claimed the last time he was in here. A sympathetic Calelir is crooning quietly in his ear, but apparently, Sig isn't in the mood for being comforted. "Knock it off. I'm fine. Seriously." Fine enough that he downs the rest of his glass and orders another, apparently.

F'yr took her time getting to where she is. Maybe she /was/ following Sigam, but she allowed herself a slow walk to the tavern and was able to finish the entire beer bottle on the way. "You /know/ I didn't mean no offense to your goldie there," Fy says when she finally arrives next to Sigam, taking a seat next to him without even asking. And if he protests, well too bad, since she didn't seem to care much. "Was just saying, in general, cause I know they can't help it themselves but doesn't mean I like being 'round 'em proddy and flying and… well, yeah." She sighs and just taps the table, sinking her head into her hands and groaning again. She peeks at the young man, though, that pitying face showing through. "Sorry 'bout that. Probably not nice to see, but it's just a flight."

Sigam doesn't look up from his empty glass as he waits for the barkeep, and the only thing that shows he's even heard F'yr is a visible tightening of his jaw. Luckily, the man that deposits his second drink doesn't linger, and after a stiff sip, the Dragonhealer finally seems to find his tongue again. "I know." Again, a lapse into silence, but this time it is perhaps to consider her words, as opposed to fuming quietly. "Yeah. My thoughts exactly." That last bit seems to be aimed at her groan, and a ghost of a smile flicks up the corner of his mouth. A glance is finally hazarded F'yr's way, but there isn't much of the normal Sigam behind it - instead, vexation and something feral are fighting for dominance. He's quick to look back to his alcohol, and even quicker to take another drink. "It's not even me I'm worried about, but it's not my place to talk about it. Just have to wait until tomorrow to see how it pans out." The words are clipped, but at least he's moved beyong three-word sentences.

F'yr's blue eyes are still peeking at him, more so now that he's got the second drink. But the brownrider doesn't make any effort to call the bartender over for her own, having had one already. "You're probably feeling 'bout as bad as me, I know. Or worse," she adds with a wrinkle of her nose to the drink, eyes drifting from it to Sigam's eyes curiously. "I know. Friends with Thea and… jealousy issues. Mike might be an idiot most of the time, but he ain't… he ain't a bad person." It sounds like it's actually hard for the teen to admit that. She even lowers her voice a little as she does so. "And… sorry, probably don't wanna hear me lecture and all that. /Flights/… I can tell you horror stories." And a pained expression crosses her face at that.

"Probably am," Sigam agrees gruffly, a shrug going along with it. "I just usually avoid these things. Not used to feeling… emotions… that aren't mine." He's trying for tact, that's a good sign! "It's not even that. It's worry for how she's gonna feel come morning." The Dragonhealer seems to be on the very verge of explaining that fully, a defiant look darting across his rough features, but at the last second, his face slackens and he falls bonelessly forward to let his forehead thump hard against his arm. It seems for a moment as if he's passed out, and even Calelir gives a curious cheep. Then: "He seemed fine. Least it wasn't X'hil." Another flicker of amusement, another risked glance, but this one holds as he quirks a solitary eyebrow. "Don't be sorry. It's helping a bit, to talk." It could also be the heavy drinking, but he's not going to say that. "Horror stories, huh." He takes in the look on her face and shakes his head a bit. "I'm not sure I wanna hear 'em." Somewhere inside, he wants to turn the conversation around, get that dismal expression off her face, but the right words aren't coming to mind. He scowls.

F'yr purses her lips out thoughtfully a little bit. "I guess I don't really feel that much… either." Awkward… "I mean, it ain't like you can avoid it though. I know it's how difficult it is to try to stop feeling… things." A bit of throat clearing. "But when you like the lady, it's hard not to." Feelings definitely isn't Fy's strong point, so she'll blame that on her addled thoughts and the little bit of booze in her system. She licks her dry lips and then sighs all heavily, turning at the sound of the thump. She's just reaching out to tap him to check if he's awake when he starts talking, and that comment makes her pull a face. "Yeah, I guess so. Lost me that mark, though." She pulls her arm back and drops face to hands again, this time looking more like her grumpy safe of late. "You definitely don't wanna hear 'em. It's the problem with being a rider but… but if it's any comfort, you do /feel/ nice for the little bit. You know, up until you wake up at the end."

Sigam appreciates F'yr's attempt at a response, awkward as it may be. "It was an interesting dichotomy, wanting to avoid it, but wanting to act on it, too." The man's brows jerk up and down once in an annoyed jesture at the irony of it all. His drink is indicated. "Sip? If not, I might down the rest and order another without thinking about it." He pauses to consider the idea, then shakes his head. "Which would be a bad idea." Pulling himself back into the upright position, the Dragonhealer kneads at the bridge of his nose, trying to organize his thoughts into a more complete coherency. "I won't say I told'ja so," he comments eventually, a wry twist to his lips. "I dunno. I suppose that maybe that one time when you wake up with the right person, it could be worth all the bad times." A snort of laughter. "Or maybe I'm just romanticizing the whole thing. What in the name of Faranth do I know?"

"Well, at least she won't be biting your head off in the morning. A good time to sneak in and do all that… comforting and sweeping off her feet and… uh, and stuff." Romantic, F'yr was not. Neither is she a date expert, a flirt, and many other things. Or a drinker, since as much as she's eyeing that glass she shakes her head quickly. "I… I got 'nough mind to remember I shouldn't touch that stuff. Just ends up being… bad, you know? I'll hit you over the head if you want if I think you've had too much." She raises a hand, shaking her fist in offering. But then she's sticking her tongue out at him, since he technically did say 'I told you so.' "It doesn't take waiting 'round for flights to happen to go spend the night with the right person. I'm a brownrider, I ain't ever going to wind up in bed with the /right/ person," she says, mournfully. "If you want to be there, then you should go and act on it and… be there. Or something. Don't listen to me," she quickly adds with a groan.

"Oh yeah, that will work swimmingly. One broken nose is enough for this week, I think." Romantic or not, the brownrider has Sigam chuckling, some semblance of his normal humor finally leaking into his eyes. "Trust me, I know," he smirks, brow lifting. "Last time I had too much, I woke up in a kilt and a garter." And he leaves it at that, downing the rest of the glass with a slight wince before pushing it well away from himself, as if that will help him resist the temptation to order more. "Nah. I'll be good. I think." Uncertaintly dances across his face for a moment, but it's soon replaces by a return raspberry for F'yr. "I guess you have a point. It's not something I think about often - the rider side of the flight system." He shakes his head then, a rueful look coming over him. "Little too late not to listen, but… That's probably not a good idea." Her groan earns a poke on the shoulder from him. "Here we are, jabbering about me and my needs, my needs. Are you okay?"

F'yr reaches out as if she's about to poke the young man's nose, and then things better of it. Not that she's likely to get that close. "Now that you said that, you gotta tell me how that happened. I've broken plenty of noses in my lifetime, myself." Just because the brownrider had to gloat about something, and this is actually some memory she seems to be fond of by the smirk on her face. Her brows go shooting up then and she gapes a little. "That must have been an interesting time. Maybe you /should/ get drunk, and then I can have something to laugh about for a bit." Her eyes follow the glass one last time but then they're gone, back on Sigam, since there's nothing to keep her attention there anymore. She runs one hand through her hair, tugging at the knots in it while the other hand pokes at her head. "I'm… I'm fine, really. It's /this/ half that's not too fine. I guess that flight really got to him more than it did me. He hates Azaeth, you see," she says with a slight growl that is most likely more her lifemate's than hers.

F'yr's poke not have gotten close to his nose on its own, but Sigam doesn't seem to hesitate to lean forwards and bonk the slightly purple, knotted thing against her questing finger. "It's quite numb, still," he explains before shrugging into her request. "I, ah, provoked a girl in here a little over a week ago. Thought she'd just up and punch me, but apparently chucking a bottle at my face was more convenient." It's apparently an amusing situation to him now, but the tone of his voice suggests it wasn't so much at the time. "Oh, it was. Same night I got him," Sigam mutters, looking over at Calelir, who has taken to dozing on his shoulder. "So I amend myself. I woke up with a kilt, garter, and a hungry firelizard. It's mornings like those that really make you wonder." Though, considering the rough burr that's just entered his voice, he obviously doesn't think there was much to wonder about. "I don't get that smashed as a spectator sport, however. You'll just have to catch me in the right mood." He gives a firm nod before sobering up a bit. "Glad to hear that, but… he hates him, really?" There's definitely an implied 'why?' in there.

F'yr at the end gets to poke the injured nose. Yay! She giggles a little bit at the story, though it's more of a sound like she's unsure whether she should be laughing. "Never done that myself before. I like punching myself, since it's more personal. Never have to worry 'bout me throwing a bottle in your face." Just punching, apparently. She smiles down a the firelizard for a moment, shaking her head. "Nah, that ain't such an awful time at the end. And he's cute. Plus, they're very nice to have around. I wouldn't know what I'd have done without my Chu back in the days, since she's still one of my best friends." She's talking about her firelizard, of course. And then the smile fads and she shakes her head sadly. "They're from the same clutch and… I guess competition. It's mostly Azaeth he hates the most but then again, Zaru doesn't have many friends. Except for his Tejath I suppose." She leans an elbow on the table, and then leans her head heavily on her hand, tilted so that she can still watch Sigam.

A rakish grin cuts across Sigam's face, indicating it's okay to be amused - the injury isn't quite that fresh. "I appreciatre that, F'yr. At least some of us still have honor and dignity. You're welcome to deck me any day." He shakes his head with a low chuckle, eyes flashing with merriment before he stares down at his clasped hands. "You're right. He's made it worth it, even if I did flash a few unsuspecting visitors. It's just an experience I'm not hot up to repeat, despite the perqs. Someone had me believing I'd kissed the weyrwoman." There's a smile on his face, but his eyes are suddenly tumultuous again. "Chu's your firelizard?," he guesses. Dark eyes inevitably raise from his hands to study the brownrider's face. "Yeah? Well, I guess that's not so unusual. I know a lot of dragons that are perfectly happy just keeping to themselves, or to just one other. Luckily, flights being what they are, he'll move on soon, yeah?"

"Thanks, and glad to know. I'll definitely keep that in mind," says F'yr with another of her little giggles, which only goes on to another as she listens to him recall more of that tale. "/The/ Weyrwoman? Did you? Gotta say, it'd be a very amusing story to tell if that /did/ happen." She's giggling at the thought, shaking her head as well before a fond expression comes over her face this time. "Yeah, she's my little gold. I think you might of caught a glimpse of her that other night here, though you probably only had eyes on Thea really," she half-teases, half turns serious. Since the conversation /was/ serious then. And then her face falls all over again, and she drops her hand and her head slumps down a little. "He will, but… I guess it's tough to explain, but he gets all— and gets me all— /frustrated/ I guess. Before it was him flying a lot, and losing a lot. Now he can't even fly and I can't help but feel bad 'bout it, as much as I hate flights." She stares at a spot on the table instead, frowning.

Sigam scratches the stubble of his cheek sheepishly, eyes squinted a bit as he snickers. "Well, no, I didn't, but I was convinced that I had. I'm relieved, personally. I can only imagine the vicious rumors that would have circulated then." The Dragonhealer grins the grin of those that go out of their way to downplay trouble of that ilk. "Ah, that was her. She was cute" Sigam barks a laugh and snakes an elbow out to nudge Fy if she doesn't dodge. "Hey, even I'm not inobservant enough to miss something shiny, even if I am preoccupied." The man sighs a bit, finally seeming at a loss for things to say. "And to think I've only tasted a slice of that particular frustration. Must be hard on you both." Whether it's bashfullness or inadequacy, even Sigam doesn't know, but some emotion has his eyes roving, and it's only now that he notices just how late it's getting, judging by the level of patronage. "I should get going," he mumbles, shifting in his seat for a moment before finally pulling up out of it. "Kinda skived off on work earlier, 'cause I couldn't focus, but I get to make it up early tomorrow." He's standing, a drowsily yawning flit draped lazily around his neck, yet he lingers, face scrunched in vascillating thought. "Thanks. For everything. Seems I've put you through a lot lately.

"Vicious rumors, fun story to tell… it all depends on you look at it," F'yr says with a stray giggle. She doesn't dodge, and in fact she turns and gives him an answering little nudge back before grinning. "Well, I wouldn't have blamed you if you did miss her at the end. She takes a bit to warm up to people. Maybe next time you can meet her properly, and I can give some more fries to that cute canine of yours." And maybe pet the fuzzy dog, too, since she jumped all scared-like last time. The comment about the flight at the end makes her nods slowly and then shrug one shoulder back helplessly. "It's passed, though, and… it'll be fine. Hope it all works out for you, too." She doesn't get up herself, so it looks like she was staying in the tavern, probably to scratch her name into the table. "Don't flatter yourself," she teases with a wink. "You ain't done nothing. It's nice chatting and all, really, and having a distraction." She pauses a moment and then raises her hand after him. "Night, Sigam."

"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, eh?" Sigam grins, head shaking a bit as he backs away. "We should arrange a play date or something. Drop me a line, I'm sure we can work something out." Mischief glitters briefly in his eyes, but goes just as quickly. Uh oh. "Que sera, sera. Let us just be open-minded to the possibility of opportunities to come," the Dragonhealer drawls, returning her wink with one of his own. "Glad I could be of service, then. You have a good night, too." And with a jaunty mock-salute, he's off to terrorize naught more but the bedbugs tonight.

F'yr knows that look well, that mischief flicker, and it perks her interest just a little more. Mischief attracts mischief after all, and the brownie's boredom is known to get her into trouble in the past. "I'll definitely do that, if I don't run into you first. Then again, should probably stop into the annex too." Hmmm. She listens to him, a bit of confusion passing over her at that quote, but she just smiles and nods at the end. Smile and nod. "Thanks," she calls after him just before he leaves, going back to table-scratching now.

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