Who

Xia, R'ik

What

Xia and R'ik run into each other at the Hold.

When

It is late night of the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Barrier Hold, The Klah Bark

OOC Date 28 Mar 2016 22:00

 

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"I'm not quite what Jaguar would send after someone like you."


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The Klah Bark

Welcome to the Klah Bark, hippest joint in the Hold. The place where everyone gathers to get that needed Klah fix. A curved bar dominates the space to the left of the doorway, laden with tiered trays of delectable pastries and square wooden canisters of herbs to add that extra spice to your brew. Behind the klah bar is a large hearth where all the magic happens. Baking a variety of snacks to tempt the pallet and brewing the signature Klah the place is known for. The recipe of which is a closely guarded secret. Smith crafted workshop stools line the curved bar for those who wish to gather and socialize briefly. While a smattering of hewn wooden tables fill in the rest of the room for those who would rather linger and enjoy.


Pern totally has those little mini-bottle things people drink on planes. And Xia's helping spice up her Klah with one of those little bottles. Rather than risk the ire of the little lady making the brew Xia tips her drink in surreptitiously, trying to hide the movement behind a full sleeve. It would help her case if she'd put down that boot she's got propped up on a nearby table, the full three inches of heel helping keep the limb braced.

Once again, the raven-haired bronzerider has become a familiar face around the Hold, barely spending much time at the Weyr outside of duties. The Klah Bark has become one of his haunts since he tries to make a point of avoiding alcohol. The door to the establishment swings open allowing a gust of frigid air to noticeably cool that which is warmed within. Some time is taken to stomp the snow from his boots and then in R'ik prowls, unwrapping the thick scarf from around his neck but leaving the navy blue beanie he's wearing in place. Straight up to the counter he goes to order his 'usual' in a gruff tone. Only then does he notice Xia with her foot propped up on a nearby table. Expression is bland as he turns to eye his wingmate for he's the last one to offer reprimand on the matter of etiquette.

Xia notes R'ik's coming with an arched eyebrow. A final tip of the little bottle in her hand before she causes it to disappear into that sleeve and a finger comes up to gesture at R'ik to join her, if he wants. There's nothing demanding or seductive in that gesture, it's just a straight up comrade-to-comrade movement. The other hand moves to dip into the klah and stir it slowly to even everything out.

A touch to his elbow jerks R'ik's attention back to the counter where his drink is ready. Telling the barrista to put it on his tab, he curls a gloved paw about the mug and carries it over to where Xia has set herself up. A chair is scraped out and the bronzerider folds himself into it, less sprawl and more hunched over the table with elbows propped on its surface. "Coulda gotten a Klah Kick from the Aperitif," he says with a jut of chin to Xia's doctored drink.

A small smile splits across Xia's lips when R'ik's attention gets pulled abruptly back to the barista. "If you aren't careful they'll start calling you jumpy boyo." Xia drops her foot down to the floor, her heel hitting with a click so Xia can lean forward. "I could've, but their brew just isn't as good. I've a flair for style these days." She gestures with her arm, taking in the whole of her wardrobe. "Of course, I doubt you would appreciate it." Judgement there from Xia, no one's cloths meet her exacting standards.

The only response Xia's first gets, is a slight narrowing of gaze as R'ik lifts his mug to blow across the steam curling off of the black brew contained in it. Taking that first careful sip, attention ghosts briefly over her attire when its pointed out so that by the time his hand has lowered again, there's a brittle glitter in pale eyes. "I don't think it would fit me." Dry as toast.

"It's not quite your color either." Xia lifts up her glass in acceptance of his jest. On the way back down the klah brushes her lips, but it's clear Xia's going to nurse this glass and not just gulp it down. Buzz, maybe, drunk, no. Another reason to be here and not in the bar. "Don't see you about much, R'ik." A question in a statement.

Content to sit in silence slowly melting the freeze from his bones with his drink, R'ik's lips purse slightly at the question disguised as a statement. His reply is simple though evasive at best. "Been busy." He does, however, offer Xia a moment of deflection delivered in a rasping tone flecked with dark humour. "Why? You missing me?"

Xia's laughter is like dark velvet, and it doesn't reach beyond the edges of the their particular table. "I would have to be about to miss you boyo, but I'm afraid we run in slightly different circles. No, someone else…" A tick of her eyes upwards as if trying to remember the name, "Ah, Z'rait mentioned it in passing to a…" A pause as Xia licks her lips slowly, "mutual friend."

She laughs and R'ik just stares at her in silence. He either doesn't get the joke or he's not in a laughing mood. Instead of offering anything beyond the grunt he delivers, the bronzerider lapses to silence during which he takes what must be several scalding swallows from his mug. Eventually, attention returns to Xia from where it had gone on a wander around the cosy establishment. "Z'rait needs to mind his own business." Any other male would most surely be transfixed by that sultry laugh or the way the attractive brownrider uses the tip of her tongue to moisten her lips. This guy right here? May as well be a monk for all the response it gets from him. Something occurs and once again his gaze narrows on his wingmate, suspicion etched about the edges. "Someone send you up here to track me down?"

Xia's eyes close and she'll just give herself up to mirth, but it's a hard mirth, with a biting edge to hit that turns it almost mocking. "Funny. Very funny. But see, love," the way it falls from Xia's lips turns what would be an endearment into a simple ironic word, "I would have to be about myself for someone to ask that. If you might have missed it," Xia gestures at herself before she pushes upwards to stand. "I'm not quite what Jaguar would send after someone like you." She'll trace him over with judgement before, "You're just not quite my type. A nice place to be alone, isn't it? To think. Ponder. Plan. Far be it from me to steal that away from you."

In the face of Xia's hard-edged mirth, R'ik is a granite rock save for the muscle that flexes in the back of his jaw. She talks while coming to her feet, tossing out sardonic notations while he remains sitting where he is. When it becomes obvious she's leaving, the bronzerider picks up his mug with a shrug of broad shoulders for her judgement and gestures toward the exit with it. "Don't let the door smack you on the ass on the way out," he drawls. What he does or where he goes once his drink is done, is irrelevant. What does matter, is that he eventually returns to the Weyr the same way he'd left – quietly and without fanfare.

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