==== October 3, 2013
==== Aife, Donatien
==== Aife's sneaking away to get a break. Donatien turns out to be the perfect distraction.

Who Aife, Donatien
What Aife's sneaking away to get a break. Donatien turns out to be the perfect distraction.
When There is 1 turn 0 months and 27 days until the 12th pass.
Where Tavern, Southern Weyr

Aife1.jpg Dien1.bmp


Of course this should be renovated with alacrity: though the glass is yet to be replaced in the windows, there is a large marble-topped bar along the western half of this standalone building, and a random tangle of chairs and tables much like the living caverns. For now, assistant headmen man the meagre stock of beer and wine and whiskey, and no fancy drinks issue forth.

Donatien came into town as a man of near-reknown, a maker of boots that bring freedom and joy. And of course the first thing to do after a long day of settling in is to head to the tavern for a brew. Any brew, really, Donatien isn't terribly picky. He swaggers up to the bar, and orders, laying a percentage of mark requested for the ale, and takes it to a very small, but empty table, sitting with his back to the wall. A sip of the ale garners a slightly dismayed expression that passes quickly, and Donatien turns to people-watching. You can find some interesting people in the local watering hole, sometimes…

People watching would find one tan skinned and curly haired woman striding briskly into the tavern, making a beeline for the counter to order herself a drink. With her pale colored bag slung over one shoulder, she only glances over her shoulder once before the bartender passes over a full mug and she drops a couple of marks on the counter in her passing. She, of course, makes a scan of he crowd present before her gaze lands on someone sitting solely at a table in the back and heads his way with the confident steps of meeting a friend she knows. No on would guess it, really. Once there, Aife stops before Donatien, commandeers the chair across from, drops right into and hangs her bag on the edge of the chair’s back as she says, “Hey. Mind if you act like I’ve just said something funny, or, that you know me? I’m trying to get out of something sticky.” Some might call this a greeting!

Finding one tan-skinned and curly haired woman who bears watching, Donatien tracks her for a few seconds before looking over the crowd again… Until the scene is blocked, by a pleasant one. Her opening line does catch his interesting though, and Donatien laughs a little, "Sure enough." So he angles himself forward, all eyes for Aife, "How was your day? Was it good for you as it was for me?" Sure, it sounds creepy, but he's grinning a little, a mischevious twinkle to his eye. A sip of ale follows, "I'm Donatien, by the way." On the list of things to know before you start pretending to cavort with someone.

Fully seated with her drink in hand, Aife takes a look over her shoulder to find two women entering the tavern moments later and pausing a few paces in to scan the patrons within. She turns back to find the man more forward, his words getting smarmy grin and a lofty, “Good for you as it was for me? My day was one borderline boredom. Until now, if I can get out one of more task that has me wasting away my hard-earned skills. Donatien, was it?” Well, she’s engaged, too, suddenly leaning forward as the women scan in their direction. Eyes narrowing slightly as she takes him in with her gaze – as if she could figure him all out in mere minutes – “Name’s Aife,” she then gives after the pause, taking a drink and wincing with a look going towards her mug’s contents before setting it down. “Well met. Should I ask what you’re doing, sitting here and drinking alone?” Because she’s nosy, she’ll ask anyway as she winces through another sip.

The two women get a quick glance from Donatien, but then his glance continues. Just surveying the crowd, though Aife's response get a widening of his smile, "Well, then, that seems an utter shame," and he sounds utterly sympathetic to the problem, "What would you rather be doing in your work hours?" And sure, Donatien's not a complicated man, as he sips again, "Well met, Aife. I just arrived, spent most of my day touring the area, checking out the place. Some lovely swimming areas." Is there a reason he hasn't mentioned what he does? Not at all, "I'm also seeing what people are wearing on their feet down here."

There’s something playful about Aife’s little smirk that’s something between curious and dangerous. Donatien’s question gets an casual, “Oh, there’s a lot I would rather be doing, and one of them just happens to be being a healer.” There’s a pause as eyes slide to the side, the women clearly having spotted the erstwhile healer well engaged. A finger idly drawing circles into the table surface between them, “So you’ve just got here? What brings you? I haven’t seen the swimming areas yet, no,” she admits right then. “Been pretty occupied since I’ve arrived myself. Why feet?” She continues to study him while working through her ale.

"Ahh, a healer," Donatien replies with a nearly roguish smile, "Then it's my fortune to meet you; I'm the new cobbler to the Weyr." Eyes flick to the two women, and he pauses mid-breath before continuing, "I got in yesterday evening. Got a whirlwind tour, and spent a few hours in what I hope will be a workroom…" And then when it looks like the conversation is going easily enough, he asks in a low voice, "And why are you needing a… distraction from the terrible twosome over there?" Not a glance to the pair, but Donatien lays his hand, palm up, on the table.

Aife blinks. “Cobbler?” she echoes, eyes for some reason or other going cutting towards what she can see of Donatien’s hands. “So you feel fortunate to meet me since you’ll likely be running into me more often than not in the infirmary?” Her eyes meets his, and her brows lift just a bit. “You look like you’re old enough to know what you’re doing. You wearing anything made by you?” But then, he’s asking about the women, whom after catching the healer present, turned and headed right back out the way they came with nary a drink in hand. She watches their backs as they go, lips pressing together as she answers him with, “I told them I had a prior engagement so that I absolutely cannot mind the supplies while they go off and do Faranth knows. I have things to do, too.” Yeah, like hide out in taverns, talking to strangers. She eyes his hand though as she speaks, his palm up before her finger transfer its tracing from the table towards his very palm.

No, that sip of ale was all casual-like, and Dien has a nearly relieved look as he notices it's nearing the bottom of the glass. His hand slowly pulls back and he sits back with a sigh, "I hate to run out on you, but the ale here is awful, and I should find my bed… Maybe I'll see you around again, under less forced circumstances?" A little grin and the journeyman rises to make his way out the door, a little swagger to hide the occasional limp as he walks.

When Dien pulls his hand back and prepares to depart, Aife doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere. “The day the ale makes one run out of a bar,” she comments, not exactly downing her own, either. “Perhaps you will, sir. Thanks for the cover.” She’ll nod him off, watching him walk off with a curious air. Then, remaining at the table for a little while longer she, too, ends up heading back out once the coast is clear.

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