====February 15, 2014
====Rhiex and Mayte, Ravene-cameo
====While Elicheritath is going up outside, Mayte and Rhiex try to distract themselves.

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.

Sunset at the end of a long workday finds a guard off-duty and in the Cantina. For once Rhiex isn't surrounded by his compadres of the guard, but instead sits alone at the bar. For it being relatively late, the Cantina is all-but-empty… perhaps the weyr senses the proverbial storm brewing. So Rhiex drinks his ale alone, and seems not to mind terribly much.

The quiet of the Cantina comes as a surprise to Mayte when she shuffles her way through the door, cursing under her breath about cold, customers, and coupons. Her cursing quiets as she eyes the relatively lack-luster crowd, but Mayte isn't about to let this opportunity pass: she makes her way to the bar and gets a big glass of red wine. There's a greedy little grin pasted on Mayte's mouth as she takes the first mouthful, which dips slightly in dismay but what the heck. Instead of spewing the mouthful over the bartender (because they seem to hate that), Mayte looks over for familiar faces… and Rhiex's gets squinted at. Always time to make new friends, so Mayte wanders over, wine 'glass' (bowl) in both hands and ahems, "Hello. Do you mind if I sit?" One hand starts balancing the wine while the other is already on the back of the chair to pull it out.

It IS surprising… the quiet, that is. But Rhiex isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, y'know? Quiet means little chance of headaches, and even better, a likelihood that he won't get called in from his very offduty presentation at the given moment. "Is that a bowl or a glass?" comes his very impolite question, almost-blurted, and the man has the grace to look abashed; "My apologies, miss. It, ah." He eyes her glass with no little amount of trepidation. "It's quite a large glass for such a little girl, no offense intended." And then, because he's busy talking and not listening, belatedly he gestures to the seat next to him. "Of course." He even half-rises from his barstool as she goes to sit, the perfect gentleman.

"A bit of one, a bit of the other," Mayte replies with relish, taking another sip. She does set the wine-vessel down and makes a bit of a show of wriggling into the barstool she's procured like it's difficult for her to even reach. But once Mayte is settled in, she grins cheekily, "No problem. And, uh, thanks." Gentlemanly manners are not Mayte's forte in replying to because she hurriedly waves Rhiex back to his seat, "No, no, sit down, it's okay." The rim of Mayte's wine glass touches her lower lip as the vintner ponders: "I… have you been through Corks and Works before?" Frowny face. "I'm… you just look really familiar." Is it a line? Or a real excuse? Mayte's sipping slowly at her wine as she gives Rhiex the eyeball. Hairy or not.

"I see," Rhiex returns, apparently still unsettled by the look of that glass/bowl/wine-bearing-contraption. He watches her little ritual of settling in with something like fascination, but he doesn't comment on it. It would be untoward. "I… could have, I suppose," Rhiex draws out. He's forgotten that exchange as much as she has, apparently. He laughs quietly on the familiar part, and shakes his head. "I get that frequently. Rhiex," he gestures at himself, offering over his hand to shake.

When you gotta drink, you gotta get the most of the cheapest. Mayte sets the glass down, looking idly over at the bartender, who's busily Not Paying Attention to Mayte, leading her to grouse, "Shoulda gotten a straw or something." Turning back to the guard, Mayte grins. "You just look like an unforgettable face, maybe. I'm Mayte." Her own hand, newly freed from its onerous duty, reaches out to clasp Rhiex's, "Well met. Soooo…" A meaningful look over her shoulder at the somewhat empty room: "You know why it's so quiet here today? S'kinda weird."

"You would drink wine out of a straw?" Rhiex sounds totally mystified. He's not familiar with this side of vintners, apparently. He's only been around the super-snooty ones who laugh at his questionable taste. "Rhiex," he repeats, only to realize he's said it before, and the man ducks his head briefly. "Sorry, the air in here must be getting to my head. It just feels strange. Like everyone's waiting." He hasn't been around weyrs enough, apparently. He gives a slight shrug at the end, a I-have-no-clue kind of gesture.

"I'd drink wine this bad out of a straw," Mayte replies, nodding at her glass, then amends, "Well. It's not bad…" Eye-slide to the bartender over that-aways, then Mayte confesses in a low voice, "It's just really not great." Mayte should totally dream up the next wine-ranking fad. "But after a long day," and an artful sigh goes here, if one considers fingerpainting 'art'. Rhiex's comment gets blinked at, and the girl wonders, "You sure it's not the ale? Cuz it does the trick, even if it…" Mayte pauses, then sniffs. Like it's airborne. "Waiting for wha…" and then Mayte looks a bit green. "So that's what O'ell was talking about," she says, trying to sound so casual, like Vintners know all about this, and then clarifies: "Uh. Bronzerider. Was talking about one of the queen dragons earlier today." Hint hint, right?

"Oh, so only bad wine." Rhiex mental-notes with a slight smile to his expression. "Not great," solemnly confirmed. "I'll have to take your word for it. My ale seems fine. Not skunky at all." See? He has at least a… beer palate. Better than nothing. "Want a sip?" He holds out his glass. Maybe it'll make the taste of bad wine a little more bearable. His expression turns furrow'd-brow again at her last part, nodding about O'ell — he's heard about the man — and then clearing suddenly with understanding. "Oh."

Mayte nods emphatically, and she does look a bit longingly at Rhiex's pint, and then glory of glories, he's putting it closer to her. "Thanks!" Mayte says enthusiastically, taking the glass carefully. No one wants the nickname 'spillybeer'. Mayte finds a spot that doesn't have traces of Rhiex-lips and slowly takes a taste of it. There's something sexy about letting a woman handle your beer. Handing it back, Mayte mmms around her mouthful, swallows, and nods, "S'a fine beer." She looks around again and wonders, "Should we, like, go find little cellars to hide in? Is that what everyone else is doing? S'what my journeywoman always had me do…" Growing up is hard, Mayte. She'll try to stick it out: "Or maybe being in public like this makes it easier to ignore?"

There is absolutely something sexy about a woman drinking your beer. Or maybe that's just Elicheritath's pheremones talking. Rhiex doesn't seem to mind either way, smiling to himself before taking his beer back and taking a long draw before settling it down on the bartop. "I don't know. I've only been in the weyr for one gold flight," his face looks studiously concerned, "And I was on duty at the time, so." Nerves of STEEL, thy name is Rhiex. Nerves of steel and balls of BLUE, that is.

And into this sweeps Ravene. She's been making the rounds of the bazaar sweeping up apprentices and children alike to herd them to her bakery. It may not get them away from the impending flight, but the doors can be locked if needed, "Hello Mayte, the bakery's where apprentices and children are being herded," she'll leave the girl to make up her own mind. The offer is there, and valid.

If Mayte had a straw, she could drink sexily from it. Alas, she's forced to manhandle her glass and swallow from it like all the other normal people, and she starts to smile a little less nervously than before. "Oh, was that the last one? For Jivayath?" Mayte huffs a little except for that small corner of lip that's curling upwards: "I was in the Caverns for most of that." One hand goes to wave some cool air over Mayte's neck, "It was… a little nuts. Fights, flirting…" And then there's the Baker journeywoman that has the Vintner blinking for a moment: "Oh! Thank you, Miss Ravene, but I'm gonna try to wait it out. Me and Rhiex," proper grammar aside, "are gonna wait it out in public. We'll be fine here." What's that saying: wine before beer, you're in the clear? But beer before wine, you're doing fine? Mayte waves away any suggestion of possible impropriety, "It'll be okay. 'n I bet Eollyn's got the boys wrangled up…"

Rhiex smiles distractedly to Ravene in welcome, then focuses back on Mayte with a furrow etching into his brow. "I think so," he slowly responds, re: Jivayath's flight. "It was a little intense," he admits. He straightens at her statement to the Baker and turns a look of pained propriety to his ale as things become quite evident that Elicheritath is doing SOMETHING out there. "I just know all of the new guard recruits are going to be terrible during this," he comments, a little absentmindedly. "Terrible." NOT like what they are going to be, right? Right.

With Ravene's sudden departure, they're in the clear. Like beer. Mayte snorts a little, "It was worse if you were right there." For a moment, her small face screws up into a distasteful look of distaste, "I even saw the Weyrleader's butt." Her voice drops on that last word, like it's the last thing anyone should want to hear about, much less experience in their lifetime. The Vintner girl isn't immune either to whatever happens beyond these walls, but she goes for more wine instead: "You mean, more than usual?" though there's a little grin to try softening the snark. Which reminds her, "Oh hey, I hear you got a new guy today." To change the subject to anything but sexytime stuff: "I heard the Weyrwoman made him join."

"That sounds horrific." The most hilarious thing is that Rhiex sounds QUITE GENUINE, his look of terrible sympathy glassing over a little bit for how straight-up mentally scarring that must be … to see W'rin's ass, that is. Rhiex scrubs a hand through his hair and straightens up again. "A new guy? Oh, the one Tuli told to get out or join the guard? Yes, he…" Rhiex twitches a little, and not just from the flight-vibes, "…will take some hammering out to make worthwhile of his current rank, not to mention anything further." He may sound a little glum, there.

The horror, the horror… Mayte takes a slightly splashy gulp of wine and grins, even if it looks a little sickly - maybe it's the bowl of wine she's about half-way through by now. The splash has landed a bit of wine on her nose and Mayte wipes that away, a lttle indelicately. The topic of the Guard's New Guy earns a half grin, half grimace (really a sight to see, twisting someone's lips about): "Yeah, I'll bet… I hear," and Mayte leans in just slightly to mention more confidentially, "He likes to visit Rosie's. Sounded like he knew most of the girls there by name." Telling tales? Mayte should know better, but she huffs, "Not that the guards can't." Rhiex gets a short, examining look, but Mayte flushes and looks back at her wine. Time for another gulp? "Sorry. I didn't mean you." Stop it, gold dragon. Just stop it.

"I don't doubt it," Rhiex returns with a downward tilt of his own lips. His eyes seem glued upon that droplet of wine stuck to Mayte's nose for a minute or fourteen. The weirdest things, man. "I don't," he replies almost automatically, then half-flushes — it's kind of cute — and ducks his head, clearing his throat. "Uh, go to Rosie's, that is. I don't … I'm not that kind of guy." Dammit Elicheritath, get out of his PANTS. :(

Hey man, is that a dragon in your pants or are you just-Mayte's totally not looking down at pants of any sort except maybe to pluck some imaginary lint from her knee. "Yeah," she says, "You, um, you seem nicer than…" Thierry? "the sort who goes there." This just in: visiting brothels makes you a jerk. Mayte has just said it. This calls for another gulp of wine, which goes down pretty smoothly when considering how the liquid laps against the slight shaking of the glass itself. "Huh." Mayte says while staring at how the burgundy liquid moves, then looks up at Rhiex. "I… shouldn't spill this on myself." So she sets it down on the bar and rubs her hands together: "Uh, is it cold in here, or is it just me?" Then Mayte's rubbing her arms. Not suggestive at all.

"Mayte," Rhiex's voice drops low and he has to struggle to modulate it back to a normal pitch. "Forgive me for being so … so forward, and I would never … proposition a virtual stranger, under," he shifts perhaps a little uncomfortably, "…normal circumstances, but would you like to perhaps…." His voice trails off again. "Find one of those little niches you were talking about earlier?" He whiteknuckles the bar — damn golds — for a moment long enough to reasonably state, "If you aren't, I'm afraid I'll need to remove myself, for everyone's sake." He sounds even apologetic. What? They were having a very decent conversation!

Her eyes unfocus briefly before Rhiex's tone says something very familiar… Oh, it's her name. Mayte swallows audibly and focuses on a safe-spot: the guard's chest. Very safe. Except that he startles her with either the formal wording or the very polite resquest, and Mayte accidently looks down before her eyes fly up, wide and surprised, to Rhiex's: "Niches?" she asks, her voice strangled as it tries to escape her mouth, but something seems to tighten behind her eyes and Mayte is nearly sliding off her stool, awful wine forgotten: "They have an upstairs, don't they?" SURELY Jharlodar has had this happen before, and the Vintner's tone slowly slides into frustration, "Or a pantry?"

Apparently one thing Rhiex wasn't expecting was … this. She said yes? He gives her a very blank look for a moment because the guard really didn't EXPECT her to say yes, but she's sliding off her stool so he sure as hell hops off of his, lickety-split, wasting little time to reach for her hand or arm or — whatever. "There's an upstairs." And the Cantina was all-but-abandoned, so maybe, just maybe, they won't even have to settle for a closet. He shoots her one last grin, and then they are leaving the realms of reality and into the surreality of Elicheritath-chased delirium: it, no doubt, will wear off in a while, but until then… might as well enjoy it, and enjoy it they no doubt shall.

While entirely avoiding puns like 'the dragon made me do it'.

SOMEHOW.