====October 30, 2013
====Br'er, Hannah
====Br'er finds Hannah hiding in the stores. Lots of talk (and drinking) happens. Br'er might even try to pump Hannah for information he's not supposed to have while drunk-sitting.

Who Br'er, Hannah
What Br'er finds Hannah hiding in the stores. Lots of talk (and drinking) happens. Br'er might even try to pump Hannah for information he's not supposed to have while drunk-sitting.
When There are 0 turns, 10 months and 6 days until the 12th pass.
Where Stores, Southern Weyr



Need requires this room be cleared, and cleared it is: hooks for glow-baskets line every neat row and aisle. Though the shelves are largely bare, some things are starting to trickle in — mostly dried meats and salted fish, in large quantities. Guess the weyr better get used to a low-carb diet.
The glowbaskets are lighted and illuminate the room beautifully.
You see Glow Basket here.
Br'er is here.
Obvious exits:
Doorway Stairs

-- On Pern --
It is late night
It is 9:05 PM where you are.
There are 0 turns, 10 months and 6 days until the 12th pass.
It is Summer and 89 degrees. It is a clear night.

The endless alcoves of the storerooms provide a few places to tuck one's self away in, especially given that the hour is late enough that dinner's through being served but early enough that folks are still out and about. Hannah's tucked herself away into one of the alcoves, curled up on the stone floor and listlessly digging through a box of what looks like canned goods: jams, jellies, fruit and other things. A single lantern lights the darkness, touching her normally platinum coloring with the warmer tones of gold and orange. A clipboard and stylus lie on the stones next to her right thigh, that leg stretched out. On the other side, she has a bottle of what must surely be alcohol, given the rich plum-red liquid that's set in a glass. Lendai did NOT say she had to do this sober.

She can't say she didn't hear Br'er coming. The greenrider's boots clip ringingly on the stone floor, moving at a lackadaisical pace: fast, fast, slow, pause, long pause, fast, pause, slow, and so forth. Looking for something, probably, though something he evidently doesn't know the location of. The light of a glowbasket grows stronger moment by moment, until its bearer comes to notice the glow from the lantern in the alcove. It becomes clear it's Br'er she's hearing, moving steadily towards her, when the man is some dragonlengths away and still veiled from sight: "Oh — someone else down here?"

The presence of another person has Hannah pausing in mid-tally, a jar of what looks like recruit slices in a syrupy juice. "Erg— " The goldrider's voice comes out startled at first, but upon noticing Br'er, some held tension is released. "It's just me," and now the resignation can be heard in her voice as the jar is set aside. "Starting on — " she glances around, " — the inventory." If she sounds rather lifeless well, it's a listless job; though she does lean out a little to see behind the boxes that help shield the sight as well. "What are you doing down here? Treasure hunting?"

"Hannah," comments Br'er, mildly, "it's 9 o'clock." Just in case she wasn't aware. The Mysterious Light revealed to be a friendly presence, he ventures closer, hands in his pockets. He's looking well-groomed (as usual) and disgustingly at ease with himself (more so than usual): stupid happy assholes and their stupid happy lives. Squatting down to see what the bottle is — lantern light reveals him entirely unsurprised to discover it is alcoholic — he turns to the obvious question: "Why are you doing the inventory at 9 o'clock?" Why he is down here at 9 o'clock is a question he does not answer.

"Br'er," Hannah's greeting comes with a twist of a smile, brows raising. "You look happy." Which is exactly how she looked just a few days ago. Her stupid happy life that she has to keep screwing up by being reckless. At the question of her purpose, she drops her eyes, giving Br'er her profile to give herself a moment to life the goblet to her lips. From over its rim, her green eyes glitter. "It's my punishment," well and truly wallowing in the sour note of her own doing, she is. "To do the inventory… twice." Or something like that. Hannah's a little fuzzy around the edges. She's a tiny woman and the bottle isn't a small one. "Might as well start now." Not that she's avoiding anyone, not at all. Admitting, too. "Grounded. Trapped in this place for Faranth knows how long."

"I've had a good day." Br'er doesn't go into details — but it's not like Hannah doesn't have some notion of what the Nowtimer gets up to, so she can go ahead and fill in the pieces. He's far more interested in her day. Shifting from feet to rump, he shoots another interested look at the booze — and starts to reach for it. "May I?" Hopefully it's nothing classy, he's totally just planning to drink it from the bottle. A long, steady moment, and then the greenrider asks the obvious: "Why, precisely, are you grounded?" A few seconds' consideration, and then he amends the statement to include, "What did you do to piss Lendai off?"

"Go for it," Hannah inclines her head, an eternal amusement flickering at the edges of her gloomy countenance. "I just opened it right up from the wine racks." Shhh, don't tell on her, Br'er. It is classy; Benden red, though the choice might have little to do with quality. "I— " She sighs, setting down the wine glass after finishing it off. Once he's gotten his fill, she holds her hand out for the bottle. "— my dragon told on me to Th'seus that Jedi and I had intended to feline hunt, which I somehow also let slip to Lendai when I was telling her about the cave and the ship and the feline that came out of the darkness." She gestures to her leg, "Lendai saw the injury, and erupted. And now I'm grounded." The goldrider leans closer, green eyes so patently miserable, "And Jedi and Th'seus might get grounded. I don't know. Lendai was going to talk to Q'fex. I can handle my own — but — but. I hate being cause for other people's…" Punishment? The bottle — presuming it was handed over — is put to her lips. Might as well go totally classy with Br'er. "I'm a horrible liar."

Then let Br'er de-class that classy wine by knocking it back, like a common wino. Albeit, to be sure, a very well groomed wino, drinking very nice wine. They can be classy hobos together. "Good vintage." Another swig. "Good choice for sadness wine. Though, personally," she'll have to wait a second for him to finish this sentence, he's taking another haul on it before dutifully returning the bottle, now slightly lighter, "I like to sulk over whisky. Wine's too much a social drink. Do you know what I mean?" He listens without comment as she recounts what her day was like, though his eyebrows lift, here and there. "Well," Br'er decides, finally. "Nobody lets goldriders have any fun." Sympathetically said, for the record. "But I'm sure Q'fex won't do anything too horrible to them." Rather dubiously said, unfortunately, like he's not sure about that one. His mouth twitches as she follows his lead with the bottle, even as he calmly adds, "You are. It's something I like about you."

"Sadness wine," now humor really does play a part in Hannah's expression that previously held only woe. "I like that." Her husky tone implies that it's so, so true. When the bottle is handed over, Br'er's words are latched onto. "We don't. We have to be there for the weyr. We can't do anything," now this is a gross exaggeration, but when one is deep in her cups it's hard to hold onto one's perspective. "Anything, Br'er. Not that I want to hunt felines anymore, but it's the principle." She falls silent, taking a long drink off the wine bottle; more than probably is good for her health. The back of one hand wipes away the dribble of red from the corner of her mouth. "I want to be better at lying." Strange request, especially given how his words get a half-smile from Hannah. "I don't know what I'm saying." She passes the bottle back over. "Q'fex will do whatever it is Q'fex wants to do." And that's the simple truth. "I fail to see how what we did was … bad."

Br'er's sharp eyes cannot fail to notice how much his (pocket-sized) friend is imbibing; he takes the bottle with the swift hand of one well accustomed to playing tactful keep-away with drunks. And he doesn't hand it right back, either, though it's also partially because he's, you know, drinking too. "Lendai was probably just scared, especially after she saw that leg of yours," he observes, with a surprising amount of charity. But it's immediately followed by, "Also, she's a terrifying bitch", so, no points for Br'er. Another sip. A subtle little swish of the bottle — just how much is left in there? There's a little huff of amused agreement on the matter of Q'fex's proclivity for doing as Q'fex pleases, before Br'er takes another sip and says, good-naturedly: "Well. If you're grounded, we'll just have to make sure you can still have fun. That's all."

If Hannah were a little less buzzed, she'd notice the deft handling of the bottle by Br'er, for it speaks volumes that someone as sensitive as she is would grasp. As it is, the goldrider doesn't miss it too much (yet) as the bottle itself has a little over half yet still in it. Clearly, she is not the great wino that Q'fex aspires to be. The baby bird of misfits. "I know," this is muttered, miserably; the downfall of caring too much about everyone else around her. "I don't want to scare her or — or anyone else." She nibbles on her bottom lip at that last part. "She's just— " now, however, the goldrider's green gaze lands on Br'er, some plea sparking in their (drunken) depths, " — she's my friend and she is not a bad woman. She cares. A lot. About everything." It just comes out all wrong, see. "I've got to check in and out of the weyr. Have you heard anything more ridiculous?" With good reason, probably, but the mention of continued good fun has Hannah making grabby hands for the bottle. "Like what?" He better not say 'darning socks.'

HANNAH CANNOT HAVE THE BOTTLE. Because Br'er has it, and he is drinking from it, and, unusually, fails to notice her grabby hands. 'Fails to notice'. Yeah. That's his story, and he's sticking to it. When he sets the bottle down, it's 'accidentally' on his far side. Before she has a chance to protest, he's scooting closer, arm snaking around for a side hug. He is a NICE (manipulative) FRIEND, see? "Wellllll," he says, slooooowly, perhaps urgently racking his brain for ideas. "Poker. Chess. You could ask one of the Crafters to teach you a new skill. Redecorate your weyr." This is hard, so many entertainment options require leaving :( "We could throw a party, maybe." After a moment, his brow furrows, and he reaches for the bottle to take a sip. (Asshole still sets it down on the 'wrong' side.) "Do you have to do the inventory by yourself?"

If looks could incite anything, Hannah's look would be demanding that bottle grow little legs and hop over the greenrider's lap right int her own hands. However, easily distracted, her thoughts are diverted by the friendly hug and the offering of so many… non-travel options. "A party. No, a ball. A masquerade ball." Oh, now she's on a mission here, head tilted back to give Br'er the raise of her brows and the slightly goofy smile. "With fancy… stuff. And see if we can't milk some of those northern Holders of their marks." When Br'er takes the bottle, again, the goldrider is giving him a glare. And reaching for it — grabby hands! "Yes. Yes. Br'er, I don't want them to get grounded too. I feel awful. They're going to hate me." Nothing say emo like a drunk weyrwoman. Although, supposing that doesn't hold a candle to emo Q'fex. "I'll tell Th'seus tonight. If Lendai doesn't get to Q'fex first and then Q'fex gets to them first. Jedi's shoulder — " The convoluted circle is giving Hannah fits of keeping track of. "You stole my wine." That's right, totally called out, buddy.

"A masquerade ball would be fun." He sounds genuinely pretty pleased when she says it, so he's totally not just saying that. (Maybe he'll come as Inlayraith, and just wear a :( mask and bunny ears.) "Why not? Everyone likes those. And they aren't going to hate you." He gives her shoulder a bracing squeeze — before starting in on a few little 'up, up' nudges. OFF YOUR DRUNK ASS, HANNAH. "I'll see if I can catch him before he talks to them, alright?" He may or may not actually mean this: Br'er has to have a lot of practice at drunk wrangling. "But even if I don't, they'll be angry with Lendai and Q'fex, not you." He's starting to get up himself, leaving the bottle where he has oh-so-casually left it… near the alcove wall, hard to spot in the shadows "The bottle's empty." Lies. "But I have a good bottle of Tillek in my weyr. Why don't I walk you home and I'll go get it?" Prophecy of the future: that wine bottle isn't stirring from Br'er's shelves. He'll… 'forget' it. "You don't have to do the inventory tonight. Let's talk more about this ball idea instead."

"I can go as a fire dancer." A genuine spark of excitement comes at the approval of the idea. "No, no, Th'seus was very unhappy with me," Hannah mutters, "And for good reason since I lied to him about the whole feline thing." Paltry thing, this. Really. Just a little 'intent to hunt' dangerous, large animals when one has no skill. The wine is rushing to her head and at first, the goldrider stares blankly at Br'er. "Oh, yeah. Q'fex. Right. Please. He'll listen to you." The bottle is lost as Hannah weaves unsteadily on her feet and takes a deep breath. She even tries to hold onto the lantern. "You drank all my wine," this is muttered mournfully but the promise of the bottle of Tillek gets her feet moving. She pauses and glances at Br'er uncertainly. "Stupid things can be forgiven, right?" But before he can answer, she starts walking (weaving) the wrong direction. "With real fire. I'll drive that man mad." Non-sequitor at its finest. Hannah's tongue's a little looser, the booze will do that. But hey, work it while it lasts Br'er: she's definitely on the move.

If Hannah was sober, and also not emo, Br'er might have a few choice words of agreement with Th'seus. But now is not the time, and the momentum is in his favor: some things are best let to slide. "I drank all your wine," the greenrider agrees, a cheerful liar. "Sorry. I'll make it up to you; you can make the feline thing up to Th'seus. Things can be made up." A motto for our time, truly. His arm snakes out to catch her round the shoulders, the better to steer her away from the bowels of the stores and out towards the inner caverns. The… hopefully mostly empty inner caverns, so that her reputation may go unscathed. Then into the warmth of a summer night, and a short walk back to her weyr. (If Br'er perhaps asks a few more questions about the ships, or about Th'seus, or about a paltry political matter or two that he isn't technically in the loop about, well, at least he waits until there's no one to hear it, right?) And then her weyr, and a bottle of Tillek that is mysterious forgotten about on the way, and diverting conversation until she's safely asleep. Drunk-sitting! Br'er is good at it.
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