==== December 1st 2013
==== Xieli, M'tias
==== M'tias tries to flirt with Xieli, all he gets are insults and an appointment at the infirmary.

Who Xieli, M'tias
What M'tias tries to flirt with Xieli, all he gets are insults and an appointment at the infirmary.
When There are 0 turns, 6 months and 24 days until the 12th pass
Where Dustbowl Cantina



Dustbowl Cantina
To enter the Dustbowl Cantina is to descend: the heart of the ancient tavern lies half underground, at the foot of ancient steps, insulated from summer heat and winter cold by the volcanic rock surrounding it. A windowless place well-lit by glows, it is homey, even cozy, with a certain bijou charm - but for the deep gouges worn in wooden table and solid stone, some clearly lingering evidence of boisterous brawling. The wall behind the well-polished bar, though, remains free from scars or graffiti, as does the door into the small kitchen, and the stairwell up into the owner's quarters: the barkeep and his staff reign, and they guard their territory well. After all, only a fool angers the source of the booze.

"Hey, it wouldn't have made him a nicer guy. But he would have left at least twenty minutes sooner. Twenty more minutes you could have been-" Oh, she's going to leave. Such is M'tias' luck. He waves Trek off as she leaves the bar to go off and ruin the Weyr at large. "I was going to say twenty more minutes she could have been talking to-" …me? Ravene is leaving as well. "Suit yourselves then. I'll just have another beer and another one of these…" The greenrider drags the little basket of pastries closer to himself along the bar counter. If he was a different kind of man he'd look more disappointed, but as it stands he seems content to eat up the leftovers and drink his beer alone.

Into the cantina walks one single Healer, dressed modestly in a strange hybrid of style between old and new: snug pants and a long tunic, her hair braided back into a single braid. She takes a moment to assess the bar before moving towards the bar. "Don't eat yourself into the sweet-sickness," she addresses M'tias with an uptick of her eyebrows, just a bit dubious. Xieli is here to drink, however, and she settles herself on a barstool to patiently await attention from Jharlodar or one of his 'tenders.

"I have a stomach like a gutter." As in, he could eat all the crap this bar has to offer and not keel over. In fact, he probably has had most of the things this bar has to offer and somehow managed to survive. Washing down his latest bite of pastry with a generous swallow of beer, he twists to take better stock of his newest companion of the evening. M'tias flicks some crumbs off the tips of his fingers. "I don't know you."

"Would seem to make sense, as I don't know you. It would be rather creepy, wouldn't you suppose? If you knew me and I hadn't even a single clue as to who you were." The words are insubordinant but her delivery is as considerate as could be. Xieli the dichotomy. Her dark eyes shift to land on M'tias, glancing over him almost dismissively. As dismissively as one could consider a dragonman, at least.

M'tias chokes back the beginning of a laugh as he brings the beer up to his mouth. "You only think that would be 'rather' creepy? I think it would probably count as all-the-fucking-way creepy." He responds, directing another assessing glance her way before taking yet another generous swallow of his drink. "I only meant that I hadn't seen you around here before. At least I don't remember seeing you before." He taps his fingers idly against the worn counter of the bar, considering the possiblities of having seen her and forgotten.

"Well, if you say so." Xieli has only the primmest of glances askance. "Obviously you haven't come in for a regular checkup in the last turn, then, have you, rider?" She turns in a way to display her knot and lifts dark brows inquiringly at him. "Do tell me, do you find that at all a reliable way to live your life… hiding from Healers?" No, Xieli, in NO WAY could he have shown up on your off day. Don't even let that little thought enter your brain.

"Obviously." M'tias agrees with put upon reluctance. "After all-" He tips his chin down to make a show of checking what her fancy knot there is all about. "Since you're the only healer on in the infirmary, it would have been impossible to miss you if I had gone." That's the only solution out there! She's the only healer. Who takes no days off. "I find that it's a reliable way to never be told bad news. Worst case scenario, I suddenly drop dead." Big loss.

"Of course." Xieli takes his sarcasm with only the most regal of nods, a slight inclination of her chin. "Glad to see you have sense in one area, even if you completely lack it in others." She Looks at him, then, with that look. You know the look. Mothers have it. Women in charge have it. And Healers have it too. Just comes with the turf. "I'll expect to see you in the morning."

"I think this is moving too quickly for me. I don't know what kind of man you take me for." M'tias makes a noise in the back of his throat. Like he's supremely disappointed in something that Xieli has just said to him. He takes a swig of his beer.

"The type of man who wants to live." Xieli doesn't play any games and WHERE THE HELL IS THE BARTENDER.

"If you want to sleep with me so bad you're going to have to buy me a drink, at least. Damn, woman." Because that's where he's decided to take this, yes.

"No, I think not. I have certain requirements of men I take to my bed." Xieli, still prim. "You wouldn't meet several… dimensions, I'm afraid." Her smile isn't subtle. She does move to wave down a bartender, finally, after sitting there like a good little girl for too long.

M'tias is pretty much shameless and laughs at the jab. "Maybe you don't meet my 'dimensions'. I mean, who wants uh…" He pauses between swallows to just twist a little and check out some things. "A perfectly attractive woman with a great body and really nice hair. When you know, you could uh," He has to search the crowds a little to find a suitable comparison. "Take one of those fine fellis-addicted looking girls out on a date. Diamonds in the rough, all of them. That's what I say."

"Oh, you sweet little thing. If your tongue is as skilled as your talk is quick, you may stack up after all." Xieli. Shameless. She really needs liquor. Or maybe not. She could end up in a tangled mess with M'tias and two or three fellisheads. That would be …. awkward.

"That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all night." M'tias drawls out with an amused slope to his voice. And since someone nearly punched him earlier, that's not really an exaggeration. His eyes follow the line of the counter to the slowest moving bartenders in the world tonight before directing that attention her way once more. "I stack up pretty nicely, get me a box crate and I'm as good as any man over six feet tall." That wouldn't be awkward at all.

"You're welcome." Xieli even goes so far as to beam a half-smile at M'tias to reward him for … honesty? Or maybe it's a smothered laugh at the last. "I'm sure if you get your positioning straightened out, nobody minds that you're lacking… a few inches." She finally, finally flags down her bartender and orders a glass of wine. How classy.

To ward M'tias away, Xieli would have to get up and move. So smothered laughter at anything he says is basically egging him on, whether it's at him or for him. He ducks his head and quickly laughs down into his drink before casting her a lopsided grin. "Hey, if you're a man in my situation? You make sure your positioning is never out of alignment. If you know what I mean." Women. Standards. They're not likely to give the short weird guy a second chance if he fucks it all up.

Xieli can't help but screw up her face at M'tias, as if she can't believe she's ACTUALLY about to say his, but she says it nonetheless. "You're like the poor little puppy of the litter. The ginger puppy, the little runt with a hacked-off tail that can't run straight. I could take you home but it would just end in heartbreak." Her sympathic smile seems to indicate exactly whose heartbreak it would be.

"If it means you're going to put me down your shirt to keep me warm against your bare, soft, magnificent tits for a few hours before you drown me in boiling water? You can take me back to your home whenever you want." Do they… drown them in boiling water? M'tias probably isn't in the puppy drowning business, so forgive him. The utterly incorrigible smile in the face of outright insult would lend one to believe he's done this before.

Xieli pauses to stare at M'tias for a moment at THAT. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered that you think I have a great rack or appalled that you'd think I'm capable of boiling a puppy alive." Wait, her wine arrived. Thank God.

"You brought the doomed puppies into this. I'd look to your own motivations first." Totally unapologetic. "But you should definitely be flattered about the rack thing. Very nice. If I was a woman, I'd be jealous."

"Thanks. Even though you're saying this just to get me bent over a desk somewhere." Xieli finally turns completely to him, sipping her wine carefully and lifting a single, dark eyebrow. "How often does this tactic work for you? This whole - charming, hapless, funny guy routine."

"The desk wouldn't really- well." No, he could work with that. How exactly is going to be kept locked up tight in the depraved vaults of his twisted little mind. Fortunately. M'tias drains the last of his beer and slides the empty vessel across the bar as he regards her with a vaguely wolfish grin. "Not as often as I would like, but often enough to be satisfying. I tried dark and dangerous, but the women just laughed at me. And not in the good way."

"You need to get checked out." Xieli assesses him with a more clinical look than before. "Tomorrow morning," she emphasizes again. "You can try out your little routine on my fellow journeymen. There is a very lovely blonde who would fall to pieces all over your cute little socks." Is that the faintest hint of scorn?

"I'm fine, my arm-" IS FINE. Not that any checks within his records would show that he broke it at some point in the past turn. In a fight. At the Pit. Or anything. Nothing of that sort. No. Switching gears like that blip didn't happen, "Sure tomorrow morning. I'm going to have to change my socks, it would be disgusting to show up with the sames on. Don't you think? I prefer to impress women with a cleaner motif."

Ears sharpen at the slip. "What about your arm?" Excuse her while she completely drops all bar protocol to take her wine and maneuver over to the rider. "Which arm?" Because this is what one does with random strangers in bars. Talk about their ailments.

"Nothing." M'tias answers quickly and starts to inch away from Xieli. Quickly and- she's there. "There was just a little thing a couple of months ago. You know the drill, cast, bone knitting back together. Totally fine. Good as new."

"A thing. A broken arm? Where." It's not a question. She goes so far as to reach over the rider to settle her glass on the bartop, before dexterous fingers go prodding along the length of his nearest arm. Look, M'tias managed to close Xieli on something. Maybe not the type of touch he was hoping for.

She had a fifty-fifty shot. And the closest arm is indeed the one in question, so lucky her! With a disgruntled noise escaping the back of his throat, M'tias puts it out there for her. "It's complicated. There was this really good purse and one of those crappy knuckle trophies they give out at the Pit. And so I took the challenge on to fight this guy. Except he was bigger than me. But it was going okay. Until somehow, we tripped each other. And he landed on me. And just- I don't know how, but he broke it." Totally not the touching he was hoping for here.

Ha! Victory for random win. "So what you're saying is you ventured into the black-market fighting ring and some guy fell on you and broke your arm?" There's a little bit of disbelief there. Just a little bit. "You sure some woman didn't break it when you slapped someone's ass?" She's found the break by now, or the tender area at least, investigating it through his sleeve with that impersonal press-here prod-there of a healer.

"Ventured makes it sound like I haven't been there before." That phrasing then of course would imply that he's probably been there before. Not that he's going to say it outright. She can go dig through the hides to see the long list of lacerations, abrasions, deep bruises, broken noses and whatever other comment occurence things can happen to a person brawling for cash over a decade. Her remarks generates a laugh from him. "I wish. That would be a better story than, 'Some fat guy fell on my arm and broke it. It sucked a lot.' At least in your version I get to grab a nice ass." Assuming he wouldn't be grabbing at nice ones here.

Up closer, Xieli can see the aftereffects of a decade of brawling; she leans back on her heels, apparently unsure of what to DO with him, now. She eyes that nose and then just reaches past him to grab her wine again, not necessarily moving from her spot. She's still running… a vulcan scan or something.

Not that M'tias looks like you know, total shit or anything. But sure the marks are there. "Hey, we did the inspection now. I totally do not have to go in tomorrow. This has been great, you're a fantastic healer." Not that her vulcan eye scan is putting him on edge or anything. Not at all.

"No, I think it's a good idea for you to come in, in the morning." She doesn't move, instead shifts her gaze to affix him with an Expectant Look. Xieli waits… for something.

"Is this moment where I remember that I never introduced myself or ask what your name is? Apologize profusely for my oversight in not acknowledging your basic identity?" M'tias ventures with an uplift of his own eyebrows in a mirrored performance of the Expectant Look.

"Oh, you didn't?" Xieli apparently didn't care what his name was. "I'm Xieli, but you can call me by my first name. Journeyman." Another eyebrow. "Where will you be tomorrow morning?" She questions him sloooowly.

"I like where this is going." M'tias waggles his eyebrows just once to make an impression. "You can call me by my last name. M'tias. There's a lot of greenriders in this weyr, I don't want you to get confused. Or for anyone else to think you're talking to them when clearly, you're calling out my name." No innuendo there at all, nada. Zip. Zilch. "My bed or yours, whichever you prefer. Then the bowl for drills. The living cavern for breakfast. It'll be tight, but I can make it to the infirmary. I'm sure. Just don't tell the blonde about us. It'll ruin my chances." Incorrigible grin. Can't be stopped.

Xieli just stares at him for a long, long moment. "You're cute, M'tias. I hope you score yourself some saucy wench, tonight." She reaches out to tweak his cute widdle nose, if he doesn't move away quickly, and flashes a last smirk to him. "But I will be over in the corner drinking my wine." Pause. "Alone." A glimmer of teeth to her smile before she turns and walks directly for that corner, ignoring those she passes to get there. Such is the way of a determined woman.

A long, long moment. Yes, perfect. Buuut there won't be any deal closing during this encounter. M'tias is at least game enough to still let her tweak the tip of his nose. He drops his chin into the palm of his hand, his elbow onto the counter and watches her go, because really, would anyone expect anything else? "I'll be there tomorrow morning!" He re-confirms in a half shout. She may just live to regret demanding he show up.

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