==== January 7th 2014
==== B'ruka, Lisette
==== B'ruka and Lisette don't become BFFs.

Who B'ruka, Lisette
What B'ruka and Lisette don't become BFFs.
When There are 0 turns, 3 months and 9 days until the 12th pass.
Where Laundry Room

bruka5.jpg Lis4.png


Laundry Room
Slippery pillars point past the pools towards the commercial cleaning… or what was once? Hard to tell, with the dirt and the crumbling cloth in the corner.

It's not late enough for big scary things that go bump in the night, so why is B'ruka in the tunnels. And why is he wandering into the laundry room? He looks about as confused to be here as anyone would be to find him. He lingers at the entrance, one hand on the wall, like if he just keeps that in touch then he won't be able to go further in. His face isn't exactly telling, his eyes scanning the room, intense and searching. It's suspicious. And weird.

There are times when Lisette actually shows up to her day job, this is one of those times. She goes bustling past with a basket of dirty things, dropping them off in a bin. There doesn't seem to be anyone else around that looks as if they're working besides her, with the exception of a few other girls younger than herself. In other words, no older matronly type to keep order. B'ruka's hulking form at the entrance eventually garners her attention. She sweeps her gaze around the room and finds that she's the senior most person here. How did that happen? Her shoulders sag a little as she turns to head in his direction, a hand on one hip when she approaches him. "You need help?" She's hoping he doesn't.

Nobody seems to be who B'ruka's looking for, which is only darkening his expression more and more. He had been looking at Lisette once she arrived, but apparently she wasn't doing it for him either. Now that she's approaching him he looks almost less happy than he did before, if that's even possible. His brow tightens. "No one came for my clothes," he tells her in his low voice, flat-toned. And his eyes wander, past her and out.

"Right." Lisette drawls, something disbelieving in her voice. "Did you put them together in the labeled bag on the ledge? They're not going to come in and do that for you." When he starts to look past her, she leans to the side to get back into his view. Snapping her fingers. "I'm all you've got right now. Hello, rider? Did you bring them with you? Or did you come down here to complain, go back to your ledge and wait for someone to get them?"

She snaps; it gets B'ruka's attention. She might not want it after that. She's all he's got? The corner of his mouth twitches up and it is distinctly not a smile, and then he pulls it back down again. "Hello, laundry girl. Do you see them? No I didn't bring them with me. I left them in my weyr. Where someone should be coming to get them. They're in the bloody labeled bag. Still. Where I left them."

If Lisette is intimidated by the attitude or the not-smile, it's impossible to tell. She flips her hand at him. "Oh well. Since you didn't bring them with you, I'm afraid this is a wasted trip. Vash won't be down here again for several more days. She's the cough," What cough? "And the riders who pick the laundry up work on rotation. Guess you could go to the Headman to see about having them picked up in the meantime? Good luck." There's a wrinkle of her nose and a wicked smile. Isn't this all just too bad. Meanwhile, she has work to do and since she can't help him, well. She turns and strolls back to pick up the basket.

"What cough?" Because that can't be good; his hand drops from the wall like it might be contaminated. It isn't until Lisette turns around that B'ruka allows the once over he was holding back. It's appreciative. "I wouldn't say it was a complete waste," he comments first, even if she might not know why. And since she isn't so close, he has to raise his voice to say, "I've heard of you I think. Laundry girl."

"The cough that's going around." Lisette looks back over her shoulder at B'ruka, narrowing her eyes like she's confused by the question. "Haven't you heard? It's sweeping the lower caverns." She even hacks a little weakly, thumping her chest. That might be the part that does the lie in. Or not. As for whether or not he's heard of her, she waves her hand at him somewhat dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. You and your uncle's cousin's wife's heard of me. Get in line, bronzerider." Because some kind of celebrity, for sure. Right.

"No," is B'ruka's easy reply. He hasn't heard. And he's looking somewhere between concerned for his own immune system and suspicious of this cough she speaks of. Or definitely her version of it. "What was that supposed to be. And no. I was told a story about some girl. You seem like her. Flippant. Unknowing of her place." He pauses to regard her. "Not without your merits, however."

"What was what supposed to be?" Lisette throws back at him, all wide green eyes and innocence. A look that lasts for only a few beats before she's directing an arched 'brow in the bronzerider's direction. Then suddenly she laughs, long and hard as she tips one of the bins towards her. It's full of linens. Without a beat, she begins to throw them into the pool of steaming water in front of her. "Says the wingrider who can't lower himself to bringing down a bag of laundry so he can guarantee that he'll have his panties for the seven." In regards to her 'merits', her look is more skeptical and she laughs again, this time with a disbelieving snort.

B'ruka doesn't do laundry. He has no comment on laundry, so if she's doing something right or wrong he wouldn't know. Except for what he's already said about his being not done, which is obviously really inconvenient, he doesn't seem care about laundry. His eyebrows lift only a small bit. "Exactly. Lower myself. Laundry girl. It's my job to fly Fall, it's your job to scrub my panties. So I can wear them while I'm busy doing something more important."

"And sometimes it'll be your job to run laundry down to the caverns. You know, rotating shifts. So really, hardly beneath you. Wingrider." If she's done anything wrong with the linens, it likely won't be discovered until much later on in the process. But for now it doesn't look like anything is about to combust. "It's not my job to scrub your panties, I'm not allowed to touch those." Sounds like the truth, smug as it is. "Glad to hear you're admiting to wearing ladies underthings. It suits you." That comes with a suggestive wink over her shoulder as she moves onto the next task. Hauling a bag of soap off the shelf.

At first there's only silence to meet all of that. Maybe B'ruka has nothing more to say. Or maybe he's taken that moment when her back is turned to sneak up behind her so that when he speaks again his voice is right behind her. "I could show you firsthand." His hands are clasped behind his back, a gentleman's pose to match his gentleman's voice, which articulates those very non-gentleman's words almost too well.

It would be a lie to say that she's not somewhat surprised by his quiet approach and sudden proximity to her person. There's a subtle stiffening of her shoulders before she resumes hauling that heavy sack off of the shelf. Turning around, she presents him with a squint of her eyes and her mouth drawn to the side before smiling. "I'm not really into cross-dressers, but thanks anyway." The soap is held to her chest, a weighty, grainy barrier in a burlap bag.

"Well that's too bad. I would have thought someone like you would be into all sorts of things." This once-over he gives her without the consideration of her seeing it or not. It's long and slow and drags down, then back up again. Finally, B'ruka puts on a smile. It is, unsurprisingly, not all that pleasant. Or it would be if some small details would change around it, like how cold his eyes look. "Laundry girl." On that note he gives her relief from his proximity and turns to leave entirely.

"For you." Her expression is largely neutral as he passes that creeping once-over onto her body. The sack is so heavy. It's no surprise that after having had to hold it for a minute or two longer than necessary that she drops it. Except she doesn't exactly drop it. It sort of propels forward a few more inches than one would expect, either landing full onto his feet or quite close nearby. It would be a painful thing to have land on you and even if it didn't, there's still a large cloud of smelly, clingy soap that adheres to any fabric around. She puts the tips of her fingers to her mouth, "Oops."

The thump from the soap and the issued cloud of stuff from the bag are enough to stop him in his tracks. Even though it didn't hurt, because he didn't catch it on either foot but that doesn't mean he isn't angry because it's just one more thing and besides that his clothes are getting all dusty. So B'ruka turns very calmly but with a look in his eye that could only mean danger, a look he levels on her. Did everyone decide to clear out yet?

The fingers held to her lips would be a classic pose of innocent embarassment for having 'dropped' the bag. But despite the wide set of her eyes and the posturing, there's something lacking in the rest of her expression. It's a good act, but not good enough. Or maybe it's not meant to be. She wants him to know on some level she tossed it at him, even if no one could prove it. No one can prove it because there doesn't seem to be anyone else around, no witnesses. At least they're not in this part of the cavern. He could be dangerous, but she's defiant in the face of it. There's little worry in her eyes.

Not good enough at all, and B'ruka picks up on the subtleties. Everything becomes very still for a moment that might feel longer than it is, and then all of a sudden he breaks that stillness and doubles back with a few long-legged strides with one aim in mind: to grab her. Not maliciously, not with any kind of harmful intent, but his arms reach to circle her, to sweep her off her feet except not in that nice romantic way.

Lisette has learned nothing from the last time she laid into someone else first. That it opens up the possiblity they're going to try and touch you back. She squeaks and flails when he puts his arms around her, because despite being strong enough to throw heavy sacks, she's not going to be strong enough to really do much against B'ruka's bulkier figure. It doesn't stop her from struggling of course.

Understandably, B'ruka doesn't flinch a lot during what comes next. All of her struggles are kind of just that, especially once he tosses her over his shoulder, with a gentle hand at her hip to stop her sliding off and hurting herself. Which might not be noticeable enough right now to count in his favor. Once he has her he carries her carefully over to the nearest of those really large baskets full of towels… and dumps her in. Hopefully they're clean but… he didn't check.

There's a lot more flailing as he walks with her, the gentle hand thing goes totally unnoticed in her struggle. The towels? They… could be clean? They're at least not visibly filthy or anything. She lands on her back in the basket, one leg hanging over the edge and her hair all messed up. Lisette props herself up onto her elbows to watch him, brushing a piece of too black hair out of her eyes. Defiance is gone, it's replaced by the undeniable visage of revenge. She's going to have the last word in this exchange somehow. Just maybe not right now.

Not right now, because he's already walking away. She wouldn't have broken her neck or anything in that little tumble, there's nothing to worry about, so he's leaving, which he meant to do earlier. Except he does pause on his way out, to turn back, to bow with a kind of sickly pleased smile. "Good day, my lady of the rubbish bin."

She's silent. Silence is bad.

It might be. But if it is, B'ruka seems up for it. His low, deep laughter follows him out and can be heard just outside as well, and maybe even a little bit longer down the tunnel until someone comes along and he stops to give them the stare they'd expect.

Next seven, when B'ruka's laundry comes back? He can expect all of his regular underthings to have been replaced. With various forms of women's lingerie. Some more sexy than others.

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