Who

Mayte, R'xim

What

Mayte is bored so she badgers a healing R'xim to go out with her for a drink. They're even getting along for the most of it.

When

14th day of the 6th month of the 2nd turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Dustbowl Cantina

OOC Date

 

Mayte1.jpg r-xim_default.jpg


Shalnth's Ledge

Almost a perfect half-circle, the ledge is nicely swept and shows little sign of needing maintenance. With views of the Hatching Cavern and Leaderships weyrs, the air space surrounding this abode is much quieter than the central location. Near the entrance to the weyrs is a bench and two wooden chairs used for relaxing and ledge sitting. A couple of empty liquor bottles are gathered neatly on the opposite side of the entranceway, while a small wooden sign hangs eye level on the stone wall reading: R'xim & Shalnth.


It’s just after dinner when wings announce themselves onto Shalnth’s ledge. Dark gold and light amber flutter a little while Mayte’s strident voice cheerfully calls into the weyr, but without entering: “R’xim! Wanna go for a drink?” Instead, she’ll lean against the rock wall of the entry way, still calling, “R’xim? Shalnth says you’re there…” She cocks her head to listen for any noise to indicate so. And no, her eyesight isn’t based on movement.

Yes, R'xim is inside his weyr. No, he's not coming out right away. Currently seated on his couch with one arm draped along the top, Rix rolls his eyes at that voice calling out to him on the ledge. Shalnth is such a traitor — he couldn't lie and say that they were at sweeps or something? A frustrated groan is given when Mayte persists, calling out to him again from the entry way this time. There's no hope of escaping, so he stands up from the couch: "Why not." His voice lacks a certain amount of enthusiasm as he makes his way toward her. "Wouldn't want you to have wasted a trip." And, yes, he's going to need a lot of booze to ensure his survival. Walking passed her and stepping out onto the ledge, R'xim's tone has a tiny bite to it when he observes Shalnth: "Where are we going, weyrwoman ?"

See? Mayte was right. She just beams at the poor man when he emerges. “Awesome!” Is she doing this manic cheerful act on purpose? “I was thinking the Cantina - I have a theory where I need someone who’s used to rum.” Lucky R’xim! A look over at the empty weyr R’xim’s leaving behind but if there’s something she’s looking for, Mayte doesn’t mention it. Instead, she’s quick to nimbly leap up onto Rhiscorath’s neck and tell the bronzer, “I’m buying.” When she sweetens the pot like that? “Wanna ride down?” If the weyrwoman has any idea that this could be emasculating, she doesn’t show it. “I’ll make sure you get back up here safe too.” If he’s not alert, she might find a window to offer to wingman for the guy .

The look R'xim gives Mayte when she offers to give him a lift down is one that says 'you've got to be kidding me'. Rather than throw a snarky comment her way (there will be plenty of time for that later), he waits for Shalnth to wing down to the vacant part of their ledge. "I'll meet you down there." And he does. Climbing aboard and settling between neckridges takes little effort before the bronze leaps into the air. They spiral downward in the general direction of the Cantina and when they land, Shalnth lowers himself a bit to help his rider dismount with ease. They both know this drill: Rix goes in, Shalnth finds something to occupy himself until it's time to collect .


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.

Having left Rhiscorath and Shalnth to go commiserate or whatever they do, Mayte leads R’xim into the Cantina. It’s not jam-packed but if Pern had a fire department, the chief would be getting wary. Mayte’s happy to cut through, twining her way between groups for a few feet until she realizes that the taller bronzerider might not be as agile. Returning, she says cheerfully, “Why doncha go find us a seat? I’ll get the drinks. Rum, right?” She tosses the taller man a grin and heads to the bar where service is prompt. Whatever Mayte is ordering, she’s tapping two fingers to the bar emphatically, before heading back to R’xim. “Alrighty! Drinks on the way!” Already the junior’s taking her jacket off and folding it inwards .

While drinks are being collected, R'xim is busy finding a table for two in the middle of all the hustle and bustle. There is a man seated at a small table by himself when Rix targets him as the best option available. As if on key, the poor guy looks up from his drink and immediately vacates his seat as the bronzer draws near and eye contact is made. Jacket is then removed and draped over the back of the chair before he sits down and sprawls accordingly, waiting for Mayte to return with much needed rum. When she finally arrives, he shifts the chair so that he's angled out and leans back to people watch. R’xim’s last encounter with the goldrider weighs heavily on his mind and he glances at her suspiciously: "I don't see you for a sevenday and all of a sudden you want to have a drink." There has to be more to this. Women are shady like that .

Mayte is empty-handed! What foul trickery is this? Jacket tossed, still inside out, over the back of the other chair, she sits down and lets out a relaxed 'ahh' as she leans back. What would usually be called a pleasant grin on her lips as the gold rider considers R'xim's comment and then nods, "Yeah, that sounds about right." It's not like he's asking her for more explanation. The serving girl comes with six drinks: two rum, two whiskeys and two glasses of water. Mayte's chin juts to the last, and her tone is teasing when she says, "We're gonna need those." That and she doesn't know exactly how hard the man can drink. Taking up her own rum, she'll start the conversation: "How's your arm doin'?"

When he drinks whiskey, he drinks whiskey. When he drinks water, he drinks water. Ne'er the twain shall meet. R'xim looks up from his seat at the serving girl and goes straight for the glass of rum when it's set down on the table. The glass is raised in a silent 'cheers' and he smirks when Mayte comments on the water: "Water's for lightweights." And Rix is a heavyweight, with many, many Turns of practice. It takes a lot to get him wasted, mostly due to his size and ability to hold his liqour very well. When she asks about his forearm, he glances down at the tight leather brace and shrugs. "It's still there." he says plainly before taking a swig of rum. "PT is a bitch, though. Can't do any upper body stuff, running's about it." Chin nodding toward her hip: "You ?"

“Yeah, but,” Mayte picks up her own whiskey, takes a taste of it and looks at the contents of the glass like she’s trying to figure out its chemical composition, “But I can’t carry your a out of here.” A late ‘cheers’ in response then, “My hip’s fine. Healers gave me the go-ahead to swim a few days ago, and I’m glad for that.” A pause, Mayte’s dark eyes staring at the brace for a moment. “At least it’s still there.” That sounds so bland, but then the junior’s onto another subject: “Okay. So, does this whiskey taste… right to you?” She sips her own again and continues, “Cuz this doesn’t to me.” Holding the glass up, Mayte continues staring at it, “I want a second opinion .”

"If it burns going down, it's probably alright." Setting the glass of rum on the table, R'xim reaches over to grab the whiskey and takes a swig. Not much of a connoisseur on the types of alcohol he enjoys consuming, Rix shrugs again and doesn't look any worse for wear: "Tastes fine to me. It has a bite to it, which I like." Glass is raised so he can take a better look at the liquid. "It's an acquired taste, so maybe you're just not used to it." But, given that Mayte once lived at Vintner Hall, she probably has some experience with the stuff. He doesn't assume anything at this point. Instead, he feels as if it's some sort of trick question and he's immediately on the defense again. "Why? Did you have her spit in it or something ?"

Watching closely as R’xim swigs, then swallows the whiskey, Mayte stares at the glass… and then shrugs. “Okay then.” Case closed. “If you think it’s good, then it’s probably my taste buds.” Simple as that. The suggestion that Mayte would have the whiskey tainted earns R’xim a disgusted look: “A Vintner who would ruin alcohol like that doesn’t deserve their knot.” Mayte goes back to staring into her glass again and sips it. Silence settles like a cone for a moment around this particular table until someone’s pushed into Mayte’s seat. Lips tighten for a moment but she just takes her chair and settles it next to R’xim’s, stretching her legs and crossing them at the ankle before her. Oh look, more quiet. Until something seems to occur to the goldrider: “D’you still have a boat? Like, even a little thing to relax in? You said you were Seacraft before.” Like she’s seeking to confirm an i dea.

Whiskey is set aside for the moment as R'xim goes for the rum again. As the silence grows between them, he busies himself with watching everyone else, flicking his attention between various women and listening to the thrum of conversations taking place all around him. That is, until Mayte's chair gets bumped into and she shuffles closer to his. Lifting his glass for another swig, Rix eyes the individual who collided with the chair and attempts to figure out if it was an intentional act of disrespect, or just some drunken idiot's inability to stand. Since his glare is conveniently ignored, it's safe to say that he's not being challenged. But, if it happens again… Rix is brought back when Mayte inquires about a boat. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I have a sloop at Tillek that I still use to fish. It's nothing fancy, kinda small. Built it with my father when I lived there." Waaay back before being Searched. Leaning back in the chair, Rix takes another swig. "Do you like to fish?" Not that she has a ton of free time to, but he's curious nonetheless .

Ever the good alcohol hostess, Mayte eyes the level of R’xim’s drink, turns to catch the eye of a server and flicks two fingers. She hasn’t started on her own rum but finishes her whiskey with one last toss. People are moving a little closer to the table, earning Mayte’s own glower with crossed arms to boot. The bronzerider’s answer makes her grin, though, “That’s cool. Never done much on a boat.” The server arrives with a fresh round of rum for R’xim (even if he’s not finished his own) and a glass of red wine for Mayte. “Never fished before either. If it wasn’t about grapes, I didn’t really know much else.” Taking up her new glass, Mayte points one index finger out the door, “Until she happened. Well, and when they dropped my Candidate group off at some volcano at Ista for a seven-day.” Cause for fond memories. “How often do you get to go out on it?” See? They’re conversing like normal people. Q&A style .

The first round of rum is finished and the empty glass set on the table before R'xim reaches for the whiskey again. Hey, might as well finish it before starting in on the fresh glass of rum. At this rate, Mayte's going to be his best friend if she continues being attentive to the level of his drinks. "I try to visit my parents at least once a month. But since this happened," a motion to his arm is given, "I haven't been to Tillek. Should probably go soon, F'dan's been asking me about it." A hearty swig of whiskey is taken and he shudders a bit at its intensity: "Whaa. Been a while since I felt that kinda burn." With the close proximity of Mayte's chair, Rix reaches around to drape an arm across the top of it out of pure comfort, not possession or flirtation. His body isn't even that close to hers, just an arm length to make himself a little more comfortable as they continue this Q&A sesh. "You don't mind, do you?" Another pull of whiskey is taken as he glances over to study her face for any sign of 'get the hell away from me' .

Mayte knows how to make friends when she wants to. Sitting back in her chair, she sips at her wine slowly, eyebrows rising: “Once a month?” She’s impressed, “I get out… well, it’s been about four months.” A slight grin though, “Rhiscorath isn’t so fond of Benden. Not enough sand for her.” An Igen baby through and through. All’s going well until R’xim’s arm lands on the back of her chair - the junior doesn’t wince per se, but she sits up, resettling herself in her chair so her elbows are on the table. “S’a little familiar, but…” The following shrug is just a little uncomfortable, so instead Mayte will continue after a sip of wine, “So. What else is new with you?” Her eyes are fixed on R’xim’s face; possibly because she’s ignoring a grizzled man a few tables away who keeps eyeing her. “Getting lots of kisses to make that arm feel better ?” That’s how hard she’s ignoring the guy. Chin in hand, watching R’xim closely.

R'xim hides a smirk behind the glass of whiskey before finishing the rest off. Arm is still in place on the back of the chair and he leans forward to set the empty on the table. It's probably best if he paces himself since he's already gone through two glasses of hard liquor before she's even finished her first. Mayte moving away from his draped arm doesn't go unnoticed: "Relax. Not gonna cop a feel or something." There isn't remotely enough alcohol in R'xim's system that'll make him brave enough to try that tonight. Their conversation remains light and his eyes flick about the various groups of people in the Cantina as Mayte speaks of Benden. Her uncomfortable body language continues and since he hasn't moved or done anything to warrant her current undying attention with chin in hand, Rix glances just beyond her and notices the reason. Another man is obviously looking her over and R'xim bristles a bit: what if this was an actual date? What if they were seeing each other? What if they were weyrmates and this same guy was eyeing her up and down? He's assuming they're just friends having a drink together. Would he be all hungry-eyed if he knew they were a serious couple? Don't think so. This guy is assuming way too much and it’s reeeally getting under R’xim’s skin. An icy glare is thrown to the man as Rix reaches over to grab the glass of rum. "I can make him stop if you want me to ."

Mayte’s snort indicates her thought of either the possibility or the consequences of R’xim doing something like that, before she takes a large sip of wine. The glass is put down so she can idly run her finger along the stem of it, but she doesn’t even glance over at the guy R’xim’s referring to: “No. Thom leaves well enough alone when I’m in here.” One finger waves out from under her chin, “Too many people.” There’s a brief smirk to go with it, “S’a long story, but he hasn’t forgotten what happened the time he asked how much I charged, when I was just sweeping steps.” Okay, maybe the goldrider’s smile is a little blood-thirsty, but Ol’ Thom isn’t moving from his seat; just sipping his ale and leering. Maybe it’s time for a change of subject: “Ever been to Vintner Hall? S’gorgeous there, and all the wine you could sot yourself with…” Her dreamy smile turns cheeky, “And whatever else you want, of course.” Behind her, Thom’s getting another drink and patting the server’s behind and somehow he avoids being caught and thrown out .

"Aww, but where's the fun in that?" R'xim loosens up a bit at Mayte's explanation of local Thom, causing him to swig his rum with a smirk. The instant response is to punch someone's teeth out of their head if Rix feels disrespected, but he's been getting better at not acting on impulse. Eeeven though every once in a while he falls off the wagon and suffers the consequences. When the conversation turns to Vintner Hall, Rix is especially grateful for Mayte's good taste in rum because she knows how to pick the good stuff. And the thought of spending a day or two at the Hall would be a bad idea because he'd be drunk the entire time. Falling down, black out drunk… "Nope. Maybe that'll be my next trip." It might actually be a pilgrimage he can talk F'dan into. "Y'know, I still have that bottle of rum you didn't smash over my head the other day. And I thought I had a temper." He does, but hell hath no fury like a pissed off woman. The alcohol must be loosening him up even more because Rix doesn't seem as irritated as when he arrived, "I bet you got a mean right hook ."

“There isn’t any,” Mayte’s returning grin is wry, “But it keeps Jharlodar happy.” And no one messes with purveyors of booze. Taking up her glass again, she grins behind it, her lips a little distorted behind imperfect glass, “You should go sometime.” An unladylike snort for the rum, “Why would I do that? Waste of a good drink. And the Healers would freak.” Maybe they don’t agree with Mayte’s preferred method of sedation. There’s a little sigh as the goldrider shifts in her chair and shakes her head, “Kalligon brought me some of my better stuff, too.” She skewers the bronzer with a look, “So you’d better not waste it either.” Ol’ Thom is going through that next drink really quickly and staring a bit more concentrated at the back of Mayte’s braided hair but it bobs a little as she nods, “I do. ‘Cept if I do it now, it can be, like, a diplomatic crisis or something.” For a moment, the goldrider pouts but it’s hard to stick out your lower lip and drink wine at the same time .

"Shit, that's why I can't ever be Weyrleader. The first meeting I'd have with a Holder would probably end with my fists breaking their face." A snickering laugh follows that statement before R'xim removes his arm from the back of Mayte's chair. He sprawls again, holding the glass of rum with one hand on his thigh while the other reaches up to scratch the side of his chin. A few women across the Cantina wave at him and he does nothing except nod at them and swig more of his drink. The blonde is recognized but she's hardly a friend, so he ignores any further gestures and focuses on his conversation with Mayte: "You gonna take me to Vintner Hall sometime? Give me the grand tour and all?" There's a slight smirk hiding behind his glass as he takes another sip, but it quickly disappears when it's lowered .

Mayte snickers a little, “You say this like you think W’rin wouldn’t love to do the same thing to some of the more idiotic Holders.” One finger wavers in R’xim’s direction, “Get some age on you,” the ‘old man’ goes unsaid, “and you’ll learn.” Following the man’s gaze and nod over at that group of women, Mayte chortles and leans back in her chair, now that it’s arm-free: “Am I cramping your style? Want I should go to the loo or something?” The wine glass is waved about randomly, but it doesn’t look like she’s ready to actually move anywhere. In fact, she’s settling in, wriggling her butt into the seat. Mayte eyes the girls again and huhs. “They’re cute,” she’ll admit doubtfully. A pause so Mayte can give R’xim a long, speculative once-and-twice over with a hint of raised-eyebrow incredulity: “You’d want me to take you to Vintner? Nahhh, you don’t want that.” Free fingers flick a little, “I’d bore the shit out of you there .”

R'xim lets out a snort of laughter when Mayte mentions W'rin: "The difference between he and I is that I'd actually do it." Her comment about age gets overlooked, simply because he's got thirteen years on her and if he hasn't learned anything yet, there's little hope for this ol' boy. The girls are ignored and he doesn't make eye contact with them: "It's nothing I want tonight." Been there, done that. Yeah, they're cute but he's not willing to deal with the strings that are attached to them. "That blonde was hanging out with B'rell the other night." And as if he'd touch her after that. The last bit of rum in his glass is downed and he leans forward to rest an elbow on the table. "Well, I tell you what." Rix says before setting the empty down, "If you don't want to take me to Vintner, that's fine. But, if you ever want to go fishing off the coast of Tillek, let me know ."

Turning her head to examine the ladies again, Mayte’s grin becomes sharp and not entirely nice. Probably better for her to turn her head back to R’xim and look like she wasn’t about to say a thing. Yup. Nope. “B’rell, hey?” She’s just gonna let that hang there but instead points a finger at the bronzerider, “No. The reason you don’t wanna go to Vintner with me is, I’ll show you everything.” Wait, whoa: “I’ll show you the wine presses, the vineyards, the corking room.” Oh, not that ‘everything’. She’s getting reminiscent, “I’d even show you the sanitizing room. All the shit no one wants to know about wine.” A quiet, low laugh, “I’m a wine geek and I know it. But I’ll think about Tillek. Mmm,” one finger gently taps the wineglass’ bowl and Mayte’s smile is subtle, “before or after I learn how to surf or whatever.” Mayte takes another peek at those ladies and whatever they do earns a dark look from the junior which doesn’t quite fade by the time she turns back to R’xim. “More rum?” is all she asks, though. What she misses is that Thom has wobbled to his feet at his table and is slowly making his way over, some beer in his mug sloshing a little with each unsteady step .

"Maybe I should wait for you to catch up." Mayte's original glass of rum is eyed before R'xim turns his attention to the man making his way toward their table. "Then again…" Since it's practically full, Rix grabs the glass and takes a swig as he listens to the goldrider tell him about the various parts of Vintner Hall. Her words are taken in but it's Thom he's looking at. As the man draws near, R'xim leans back in his chair and remains aloof despite trying to anticipate the possible outcomes of this inevitable meeting. "Don't look now." Chin is lifted toward Thom. Mayte's expression will be indicative of how he'll handle the situation: "Just say the word." Rix reminds her. More rum is swigged as his eyes now focus on the local .

Notably, Mayte doesn’t protest when R’xim takes the rum that was plopped in front of her, merely smirking a little. And of course, when you tell Mayte not to do something, it’s nearly a guarantee that she’ll do it; a peek over her shoulder and the woman sighs. “So y’ve gone ‘n found yerssel’ a real man, Vintner?” Thom’s voice slurs his sneer all over from behind. Mayte carefully rests her glass of wine on the table and with a quick shake of her head at R’xim, half-turns in her chair to scowl up at Thom: “I don’t know if you’ve been out making an ass of yourself on the road for the past two Turns, Thom, but it’s not Vintner any more.” The overbearing man with at least three missing teeth leers at her, then at R’xim, not getting the hint: “So yer takin’ up wif riders, makin’ good money now?” The bouncers at the Cantina are starting to look over but Mayte’s scowling up at him: “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.” Because technically, it’s kinda true. Mayte turns to give R’xim a sly look and ‘accidently’ knocks her coat to the ground. Oops. Except the stupid thing stays folded, so Mayte has to bend down and shake it out for the knot to become visible - except Thom doesn’t quite get the hint; too drunk, perhaps: “So you,” the man glares at Rix, “Get yer rocks from havin’ wimmen dress up as goldriders?” It is to laugh, apparently .

This is a recipe for disaster one way or another because A) R'xim's had a good amount of rum, and B) F'dan isn't here to act as a mediator. 9 out of 10 fights can be avoided if F'dan is around to de-escalate them, but tonight R'xim is solo without his wingman. For the moment, Mayte appears to be handling the drunkard rather well and Rix just observes their interaction a while longer. There's no need to make something out of nothing (that much F'dan taught him). More rum is taken in and R'xim looks up at Thom from his seat: "Yeah. It's a thing of mine." Glancing back over at Mayte, the vibe isn't immediately threatening yet so perhaps now would be a good time to steer Thom in the direction whence he came. "Hey," R'xim says, standing up next to Ol' Thom, "how 'bout I buy you a beer, huh?" Reaching out to turn the man toward the bar, it's an attempt to get him away from Mayte. Free booze is always a great distraction .

“Hey, idiot,” Mayte’s low, husky voice turns sharp as she looks at Thom, “If you didn’t figure it out…” Except Thom is looking at R’xim now, smirking, “Sure, ’n y’ll can tell me how she screams…” Oh, someone’s gonna be screaming, but it won’t be Mayte - the junior’s face hardens and she rises out of her chair, turning towards Thom with one fist already balling up, “You wanna watch what the fuck you say, Thom.” The bouncers are advancing towards this little show-down, while Thom smirks down at her and R’xim. Damn this being short shit. Of course, this means that everyone is watching what drama the goldrider’s brought to the table tonight; the bar quiets just in time to hear Mayte hiss something about ‘broomstick’ and ‘where Rukbat don’t shine’ .

If F'dan were here, he'd be telling R'xim to step down and that the man is drunk. But, there is no such voice telling him to back off, so once Thom makes his dirty comment, Rix shoves him. Hard. Both hands plant into the man's shoulder area and jostle him forward with such force that if any chairs are in the way, there's a strong possibility that they'll be broken. It seems like Thom doesn't even hit the ground before two bouncers are all up on R'xim, grabbing hold of him and pulling him back before he can swing at the man while he's down. Thom will survive any injuries from the fall, but Rix might not survive the wrath of W'rin after this. "Get off me." Rix growls to the bouncers, both of comparable size to him, but clearly more muscle as they grab his arms. When they grip his leather brace, it almost brings R'xim to his knees as he yells out in pain: his left forearm hasn't completely healed from the Thread score. "Get the fuck off me !".

Well this has just devolved nicely. Recovering from getting moved aside by either Thom or R’xim (who knows when it’s that close?) Mayte growls, “Shitballs,” and points at two other bouncers, then snaps her fingers at Thom. “Get this asshat out of here - put him up in the Brig for the night. Or until he sobers up.” Either or. R’xim’s shout of pain has her look over and she moves in to start pulling on the shoulders of bouncers, her voice low and authoritative: “Let off; he’s my charge.” Rather, he is now. In between orders, Mayte continues a quiet litany of ‘fuck fuck fuck,’ like it’s some absent-minded mantra until the bouncers are at least not causing more pain. Jharlodar, owner of this establishment, comes down from the stairs and moves into Mayte’s line of sight, clearing his throat roughly; there’s a moment where Mayte stares at R’xim intensely before looking over and nodding at the man: “I know, I know…” She’s already collecting her coat and telling R’xim, “That’s our cue for the night.” One moment the junior is grim and brooding - the next, she’s cracking a grin: “Healers for your arm, or Oasis Inn?” Goldriders be crazy, donchaknow .

R'xim jerks his arms out from under the bouncers' grasp and steps back. With some help, Thom is getting to his feet again and being quietly led out of the Cantina by two large men at each side. The adrenaline is slowly dissipating from his system and R'xim's mind is a blur of thoughts: F'dan is going to kill him, W'rin is probably going to throw him back on probation, and now his damn arm hurts again so the healer's will slam him with more restrictions. As these thoughts run through his mind, Rix finally feels the burn of people staring at him (not to mention that it's much quieter now, too). Turning to look at Mayte for a brief moment, it's clear that his foul mood has returned; that same foul mood he had before Mayte came and collected him for a few drinks. Stepping toward his chair, R'xim collects his jacket and eyes the weyrwoman: "Going back to my weyr." is said lowly, charge or no charge. The Cantina seems to come alive again as R'xim makes his way toward the exit, nodding at Jharlodar as he passes by .

It’s pretty clear the night of revelry is over; slinging her jacket around her shoulders with ease, Mayte settles it a few times before looking around - this is no new game for her so when Jharlodar says, “If I may see you tomorrow, weyrwoman?” she doesn’t sigh or roll her eyes. Instead, it’s a nearly familiar, “Looking forward to it,” from Mayte as she follows R’xim’s steps. Mayte doesn’t protest on the way out but once the Cantina doors shut quite firmly behind her, she looks over at R’xim and says, “Y’got numbweed for that, then? It‘d be better to see the Healers now before you sleep on it, but if you’re sure.” There’s not even a trail-off in her tone as Rhiscorath moves close to give her rider a forearm up. Settling in, Mayte also declares, “‘ll check in on you back at your ledge,” then gives Rhiscorath the signal to take to the air .
*
Shalnth’s Ledge
Almost a perfect half-circle, the ledge is nicely swept and shows little sign of needing maintenance. With views of the Hatching Cavern and Leaderships weyrs, the air space surrounding this abode is much quieter than the central location. Near the entrance to the weyrs is a bench and two wooden chairs used for relaxing and ledge sitting. A couple of empty liquor bottles are gathered neatly on the opposite side of the entranceway, while a small wooden sign hangs eye level on the stone wall reading: R'xim & Shalnth.
*
It doesn't take R'xim long to dismount from Shalnth's neckridges and when his boots hit the ledge, there's an audible wince when he lets go of a strap. The leather brace is his next focus as his right hand attempts to unlace it from his forearm. Turning toward the entryway to his weyr, Rix is hell bent on removing the brace and going to sleep. It seems like that's going to be his only release for the night: sleeping away the pain and the night's events. Shalnth doesn't stay on the ledge very long after landing, he's got better places to be when his bond is in moods like this, and it isn't shocking to see which direction the bronze launches into: the central bowl, where Kadanth's ledge is. R'xim rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what Shalnth is doing. Maybe if he goes to sleep now F'dan won’t storm over and bother him. "Fuck this piece of shit…" Apparently he isn't having much luck removing the brace, so he strides toward the weyr in search of a knife .

If Mayte was planning to be actually on the ledge before Shalnth arrived, Rhiscorath’s good sense prevailed. If the bronze was paying attention, he’d notice that Rhis lands soon after his departure, Mayte sliding down to land approximately where R’xim did. Except he’s disappeared into his weyr. “R’xim!” Mayte’s still strident-sounding, “You gone to sleep yet?” A quick look over her shoulder in the direction that Shalnth has left in, and Mayte mutters something. “R’xim, c’mon out and then I’ll leave you alone.” So, that previous question was pretty moot anyways. Rhiscorath settles herself on the ledge happily, wings folding back while the gold eyes the name sign there. “Don’t eat it, Rhis,” Mayte warns her, “It’s not ours.” Still, the young weyrwoman looks like she’s planning to wait, leaning up against her lifemate, arms crossed and staring into the ledge expectantly .

Mayte's voice is like nails on a chalkboard right now. The last thing he wants to do tonight is sit through a harsh scolding on 'why it's best not to fight'. He can almost hear W'rin's voice in his head lecturing him on proper decorum… wow. His mind got away from him for a sec. Standing near his desk, a few drawers are opened and rummaged through as he looks for a knife. He's got one here somewhere. Or maybe he lent it to F'dan. Ugh. As he sifts through the contents of one drawer, Rix lifts his eyes and sees Mayte leaning up against Rhiscorath and not budging. There's an irritated sigh as he gives up searching for the knife, only to yield to the weyrwoman's request. Striding out onto the ledge again, Rix pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes with visible agitation: "Mayte, I really don't want to talk about it ."

Strangely, not the first time that’s been thought. Fascinating. Still, R’xim’s no worse than a customer who’s short an eighth-mark. “What’re you looking for in there?” A chin-jut to inside the weyr, but Mayte pushes away from Rhiscorath’s hide to go examine as far as she’s willing to go. “Anyways, whatever. I just wanted to say,” hands drop to tuck into jacket pockets, “Jharlodar’s gonna come see me tomorrow. He’s gonna be a bit pissed, but that’s no worse than has ever happened - Shells, he knows it’s getting off pretty light.” And since poor R’xim’s had enough for one day, Mayte doesn’t allow interruptions for what she’s saying: “Now, I’m gonna try to get this settled without the Weyrleader getting involved. If he does hear about it, tell him it was some jerk from before, you were speaking up for me, and Thom got a little mouthy.” Which is pretty much the truth, “And then, because that’s what happened, you just concentrate on getting that arm healed and it’ll be done with.” See? Wrapped up neat and tidy. Mayte is just gleaming with self-satisfaction - a little like how Rhiscorath in the background .

R'xim's hand now rubs the back of his neck as he gazes out past the weyrwoman into the open air. Her words seem to bounce off him until she mentions the Weyrleader and his attention is snapped back to her. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that's telling him he's not going to get away that easily. There will be something he'll have to suffer through — maybe not with W'rin, but F'dan is certainly going to let him have it. "Yeah. Got it." There is also another feeling in the pit of his stomach that's saying he's going to pay for it somehow, like Mayte's going to lord this over him for a looong time. "Do me a favor and get this thing off of me." Lifting his arm up and pointing to the brace, Rix might as well get some help with it before she takes off. "If you've got a knife, just cut it." Because Mayte seems like the type of woman who'd carry a small blade in her boot or something .

Bronzeriders. No faith these days. Mayte mms and feels around in her pocket, to produce a small pocket knife that flicks open. She looks critically at the brace and slips the knife in between a strap so the edge is away from both her and R’xim’s arm (speaking of things that have just had enough tonight), and after a few saws, splits the leather. “Sorry - I just sharpened it today,” Mayte says absently as she moves to look for another convenient cutitng place, “But it’s not really meant for leather.” She’s holding his arm with her other hand, not close to the wounded skin but to keep it still. Another strap is sliced through, and Mayte steps back with an easy grin, “There. Can you get that off now?” The pocket knife doesn’t go away, just in case. She looks over again at where Shalnth flew off to and lips purse briefly - a moment later, she adds, “And don’t you take any shit from anyone else, either.” Just, generally speaking. There’s a moment of discomfort but Mayte drags out, “I was glad you were there. Just… y’know.” And if he doesn’t, she ain’t explaining .

Enough leather has been sliced so that R'xim can slip his arm out of the brace with little discomfort. The release of pressure makes the bandaged wound feel slightly better, but he can tell that the skin underneath is very raw, maybe even bleeding. There's a jar of numbweed in the weyr that's calling his name. "Thanks." See? He knew she'd be carrying a knife. Mayte's final comments deserve a nod and a shrug as if it was no big deal: "I'd do it again if I had to." He's not any better at accepting gratitude as Mayte is communicating it, so he'll just leave it at that. And if it were any other woman standing on his ledge this late at night, he'd invite them in to stay, but he's not up for getting punched in the face either. Even Rix knows his limits. So, there he stands for a few moments in silence before glancing back at his weyr. "I'll see you later, Mayte." His foul mood has lightened a bit and he'd rather not push his luck any further tonight, so he flicks a salute her way and steps back .

One nod is Mayte’s response to that, and she moves back towards Rhiscorath who slowly moves to her feet. The gold ducks down so Mayte can mount but they pause while the junior settles herself in. Her shoulders are tight for a moment but Rhiscorath’s stock still until her rider sighs and calls again: “R’xim! Lemme know about Vintner some time. I promise, no bar fights.” That would be sooo cliche and blue-collar. Finally, Rhis obliges her rider and leaps from Shalnth’s ledge, leaving it open and empty, Rhis’ golden, filigreed butt fading down into the darkness of the North Bowl .

Why is it that whenever Mayte leaves, R'xim is almost always saying 'what the heck just happened?' Because as he stands on the ledge, he watches Rhiscorath descend toward the leadership weyrs almost as quickly as she arrived. It isn't long before his arm begins to throb, pulling him back into the now and the cold reality that someone is going to be tracking him down tomorrow. There's an irritated groan at that thought so he decides to call it a night. Sleep is thy friend, Rix… Faranth knows you're gonna need it .

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