Who

Rocio, D'meus

What

Rocio is on time, D'meus is not on time. The cad.

When

It is afternoon of the seventh day of the first month of the fourth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

The Tipsy Kitten, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 05 Feb 2015 05:00

 

rocio_default.jpg d-meus_default.jpg

tavern.jpg

The Tipsy Kitten

Here there be drunkards: a marble bar and the gorgeous array of colored bottles behind it would be enough to draw them in, but more yet lures those to enjoy the recreation the Kitten has to offer. Windows allow light to naturally illuminate the first floor of the tavern in the daytime, while green-tinted glows shine after nightfall. A door behind the bar leads to the tiny kitchen, while a stairway leads above to the rooms available for rent. Among the hubbub and the ruckus, a calamity of tables scatter through the open space, plenty enough for dragonpoker tournaments on restday eve.


To say Rocio's more nervous than a long-tailed feline in a room full of rocking chairs is an understatement. Of the Turn. But, here she is, pressing forward into the Kitten and standing in the doorway looking rather vulnerable in the floral summer dress she's currently wearing. A pale yellow with an intricate floral pattern done up in soft greens and browns, the garment is finished off by a thin, dark brown strap around her small waist. It's a form fitting piece with thin shoulder straps and a length that falls just below her knees, a light fabric that swishes freely whenever she walks. Her long hair has that summery mussed appearance and is loosely tied back into a runnertail to allow the klah colored waves to cascade down to her midback. This huntress cleaned up. On her feet are a pair of flat, open toed sandals that carry her over to the bar where she sidles up, leaning onto her forearms as she beams at the staff who are all bustling about. "Heya!" she drawls to the nearest bartender. "Can I get a sparklin' water with a few cherries plopped in there? And is Dione workin' tonight?"

The Kitten and an appointed time to meet a girl for drinks. The time starts to slide by, minute by minute until it becomes clear that the bronzerider she's supposed to be meeting is running behind. Just when it gets to that point where a person might wonder if he's going to show up at all, D'meus pushes through the tight crowd at the doorway. While it's clear that he's taken the time to wash off his face, not much else has been cleaned up. Riding leathers are still on, however he's peeling the jacket off as he walks in. His pants are spattered with dried mud, little specks cleaning to what was once an otherwise clean cotton shirt. He stomps clumps off the stuff off on the entranceway, heading to the bar with a concerned expression on his face. "Is Dione here? I was supposed to meet someone, she knows who- No? What? I'm late and-" The bartender he's trying to talk to clearly has no idea who he is or what he's talking about. "What's her name? I said Di- Oh no, the someone? Rocio, I think. A girl."

A glass of sparkling water with cherries is promptly slid Rocio's way and she smiles at the bartender. "Put it on Rodric's tab, yeah? And tell Dione I was lookin' for her!" The thin red straw in the drink is then sipped on as she glances down the bar at those sitting and standing near it. Drinks are being ordered and served, conversation is happening all around and the huntress… waits. And waits. A decent amount of time passes and she's aaalmost finished her drink when she heaves a breathy sigh, admitting defeat before anything even happened. Just WAIT until she sees Dione tom— Blink. As Rocio turns to leave, she — surprisingly — hears her name and pivots to see if it was from anyone she knows. "'m Rocio." she says, thin brows rising as she doesn't recognize the rider. Oh wait. "Hey, you must be…" Wavering a bit, she waits to see if she should actually stay.

The bartender he's talking to is shaking her head and also making a quip on she would have left already if she was her. "Thank you so much for-" There's more to it, but he stops when he hears Rocio's voice. He pushes off of the bar, looking over the head of one of the patrons until he spots her. "You didn't leave yet. Sorry…" He trails off, gesturing to how he's basically a complete hot mess. "I was running late as it was and I didn't want to stop and change because then I would have never gotten here. It's a long story." He laughs with embarassment, dropping his head and answering in an apologetic tone, "D'meus. Bronze Tzorath's. Did you still want to get that drink? It's on me."

Rocio takes a step back toward the bar and decides to stand in case she needs to make a quick getaway from this bronzerider. It's way too early to tell if she needs to feign sickness or work 'early' in the morning. Fingertips drum against the countertop's wooden surface and she turns to the nearest bartender, but before she can say a word, another round of sparkling cherry water is slid in front of her. "Thank ya kindly." she says with a grateful smile. The straw is sipped on and she side eyes the bronzer for a moment before actually turning her head to rest pale blue eyes on him. Well. He's rather cute. Nice shoulders. Another sip is taken and she sets the glass down on the bar, eyes still assessing his face and expression. "Rocio, daughter of Rodric, Weyr hunter." is her simple introduction. A quick glance to her drink then back to the rider. "Awful nice to meet ya, D'meus! And no need with the drink, I kinda started without ya." Glass is lifted as proof, straw sipped. "If'n ya feel the need to visit the baths, ya can. I know what it's like to sit in grimy clothes for way too long.

When she lifts her glass he looks instantly guilty, running his hand up the back of his hair and further mussing up the already helmet tousled mess. "Again, sorry. I'm not sure I can say that enough, I'm usually on time. Promise." D'meus smiles awkwardly and holds one finger up as he squeezes between two other customers to order his drink. What he comes back with is either straight vodka or water. He tips his head in the direction of an empty table. "I'm fine. I really made you wait too long already. Did you notice that it rains here all the time? And the roads are a muddy mess-" He bites down on another smile, nodding his head once. "Of course you do. You're a hunter, you're out there all the time. Really if you wanted to go, I can just turn my back and you can run."

"No worries, D'meus. Stop apologizin', ya hear?" The sparkling water is swirled in the glass, the juice from the cherries begining to tinge the liquid red as Rocio leans on a forearm against the bar to look at the bronzer. Her posture isn't quite lady-like and she would absolutely hook a boot heel onto a barstool if she was in proper gear and not wearing such girly sandals. The realization that she's dressed out of her element causes a prickling heat to her neck and she sips through the straw to help stay calm. Dresses. Who WEARS these things anyway? Her expression softens and she laughs a little at his realization of Southern's infamous weather patterns. "Yessir. Rains aaall the time here." Sip. "I'm knee deep in mud or the river or somethin' every day." A beat, "Dione said you're kinda new to these parts? Where ya from? And if you say Bitra, I'm leavin' right now…" She's only half kidding judging by her grin.

"Alright, well if you're not going to run out the door, then lets sit? You don't exactly look comfortable standing there. And I've been riding sweeps for most of the afternoon." Which is like sitting but not at all. With his glass, he moves away from the bar pulling out a chair at the empty table for Rocio before taking the opposite for himself. He takes a long drink from his glass once he sits, long enough that a person would hope it's only water. "Exactly, I swear it's everyday. I was trying to help one of those traderfolk get his wagon out of a ditch. It was a disaster." D'meus shakes his head, tired and annoyed by the memory itself. He laughs and runs his finger along the top of the glass, "Telgar Weyr. Born and raised there. No Bitran in my blood." For the first time since arriving, he seems to be giving her a more speculative look. "Can I ask a question?"

Well. He seems nice enough and he did apologize for being rather late. Offered to buy her a drink, too. Rocio straightens when D'meus suggests they sit down and she grabs her glass, only to follow him a short distance to a nearby table. She sits when the chair is pulled out for her and tries her very hardest to at least attempt to be a lady with one leg crossed over the other with the dress concealing her knees. No sprawling tonight. Ahem. "Well, that's good t' hear!" Bitrans. Eh. Shifty buncha bandits. Sipping through the straw again, she blinks over at the bronzerider when he inquires about asking a question. "Ya just did, but go ahead." Okay, she couldn't help that one. Smiling, blue eyes sparkling mischief, Rocio looks directly at D'meus now. Still assessing, still trying to figure this one out. There's no such thing as a polite bronzerider… Dione says.

D'meus drops his elbows onto the table, glass ignored for now while he examines his hands for any more mud. He looks irked when he finds some just below his thumb, scraping it off with a nail onto the floor. At her return, he smiles crookedly and utters a short laugh. "What's a girl like you doing here? Honestly." His eyes roll around, indicating the room at large before he rests that dark gaze back onto her meeting Rocio's much lighter one. "You don't need your friend to set you up on blind dates with guys who show up late and covered in mud." His index finger taps against his chest, pointing now at himself as one of those 'guys'.

"You're right, I don't really need to… be here." Rocio wants to take the words back as she's speaking them. Oh how she wishes that were true, the 'not needing to' part. She continues to sip her cherry water and lowers her eyes to the glass once it's set down on the table top again. Anywhere but on him. "I dunno. It's kinda excitin' meetin' someone new, ya know? I gotta tell ya, I don't get out much." Squint. "Well, I get out just not… with other people. I'm outside in the woods settin' traps, or down by the river fishin', huntin' in the fields, up at the Hold. Stars, I'm all over the place. Can't sit still!" Really? He can probably tell by the way her knee's twitching right now, too. "I ain't got time to meet people for drinks." Well, apparently she's got plenty since she waited waaay too long for the man sitting across from her. "And what about you? Ain't you got a pretty weyrmate yet? Or you just too… picky?" Or playing the field. A shifty-eyed glance is finally tossed his way as she slowly siiips her drink in further assessment.

He takes up that glass again, sipping it while she makes with that answer. Even though her eyes are wandering, his are set intently on Rocio, 'brows lifted with curiosity. "It's always exciting meeting someone new, before you really know them. Before all that gloss wears away." D'meus clears his throat, maybe realizing that wasn't exactly the most upbeat of responses to let loose. His mouth curves into a smile when she mentions not being able to sit still, glancing down at the table as if he can see the bouncing knee beneath it. When she puts her own question forth, he lifts his eyes slowly up to meet hers and then up to the ceiling. "No, no pretty weyrmate waiting for me. And I guess- Is it wrong to be picky? I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, that's all." His gaze drops again and he rolls those broad shoulders. "I'm here mostly because I don't know anyone. I came to Southern with just my things and Tzorath." Smiling wryly, "This seemed like a good idea."

"That's true. 'Cause I don't normally wear this get-up." Rocio says, looking down and pawing at her sundress. "I mean, I ain't like this. If you see me again outside of this bar, you'll see a gal with her hair mussed, in trous, leather boots, a long bow and quiver of arrows slung over her shoulders, and knives. Everywhere." Her hands pat at her hips to indicate where she keeps those sheathed weapons that people can actually see. "My hands are all dirty, I usually got crud under my nails. I'm just… Uh." Great picture you just painted of yourself, girl. THIS is why you don't date. Clearing her throat, Rocio leans back against her chair and quirks a small smile, meeting the bronzer's gaze again. "Bein' picky ain't bad. I'm picky, too. Not too many men in these parts wanna date a gal who ain't lady-like. I mean…" Cheeks tinge red again and she looks down at her drink, curling fingers around the glass. "I mean, just listen t' the way I talk." There's a moment of silence when she takes a sip. "And I can pretty much guarantee ya won't recognize me the next time ya see me. I'll wave and smile at ya as I walk by, but you'll just stare and be like, 'Who's that little hoyden?'"

D'meus stares at her for a good long while before lifting his chin and starting off with a knowing 'aaah', "So what you're telling me is that this is a disguise? You don't plan on having me recognize you the next time we're around each other. Good plan." It's meant as a joke, complete with dimpling in his cheeks as a broader smile finally manages to break free. "I think you mean to say that you look like I do now. Completely covered in dirt. It's okay, you can just say I look like hell." If she's self-conscious he at the least acts as if he doesn't notice. Tossing back the rest of his glass, he rolls the bottom against the table top. "At least you don't have my Telgari accent but could you just explain what a 'hoyden' is?" He asks with a laugh, mouth pulling to the side in amusement. "You could have just worn your usual clothes."

"Could be a disguise. Easily." There's a laugh that follows and Rocio takes a moment to finish her sparkling water before eyeing the cherries at the bottom of the glass. "Tomboys are what my momma calls 'hoydens'. Gals that like to spend time outdoors, doin'… stuff." A cherry is speared at the end of her straw and she pops the fruit into her mouth, eyes looking over at D'meus now. Her dress is examined again and she smoothes the fabric over her thigh with a shrug. "Figured I'd at least dress up meetin' someone new. Don't get the opportunity to wear dresses much, ya know?" Seized the moment, did Rocio. The bronzer's clothes are eyed again and she spears another cherry onto her straw. "That's why I ain't judgin' ya too hard for all the mud and dirt on yourself. I look like that every day." The smile that follows is wry as she leans forward to rest elbows on the table, cherry removed from the straw and glass moved in front of her now.

D'meus gives that glass another roll before he lets the bottom fall flat against the top of the table, grinning lopsidedly when she goes along with his tease. "Right, tomboy. I'll probably just think 'who's that cute girl' if I suddenly have a case of amnesia the next time I see you." Empty now he finally pushes that drink away from himself, losing the prop to play with. Instead he idly works at picking a spot on the table. "You look very nice." His eyes track the path of the cherry, flickering up for his next. "But I think if you're going to be picky you should just dress as yourself. But that's coming from the me." The man who looks like he got dredged up from the lagoon. With a slow midly amused drawl he remarks, "I appreciate that, the not judging. Too hard anyway."

Rocio grins broadly, glancing down at her dress before looking up at the bronzerider. "Why thank ya kindly D'meus. That's an awful nice thing t' say." Straightening a bit, the huntress taps the straw against the glass and glances back toward the bar in case Dione just happened to show up and was watching from a distance. Nothing. "I just like t' make a good first impression. Those are important, ya know. Kinda like how showin' up for a date on time is a nice gesture when you're meetin' someone y'ain't never met before." Pivoting to give the rider A Look, she drapes one arm over the back of her chair in a semi-sprawl before she realizes she's not being all that proper — hey, she is what she is — and straightens a bit, smoothing her dress again in the process. "Say, you doin' anythin' special tonight?"

He follows the path of her glance towards the bar, not noticing anything of importance he brings his attention back to her again in time to meet that look. D'meus cocks an eyebrow and lifts one shoulder, "Next time I'll just leave the trader in the ditch. I'll let him know I have other places to be, figure it out. He should have planned better anyway." His mouth twitches, the suppresion of a smile before he turns to answering her question next. "Well I was meeting this girl for drinks. But I was late and she says she accepted my apology but I'm not so sure. Does that count? I kind of sort of thought that it counted. Otherwise I'd just sit at the end of that bar alone eating peanuts." It's full of casually nonchalence even as his lips turns up at the corners.

Rocio just staaares at D'meus for what seems like a long moment, her lips curving into a smile as she locks eyes with the rider. "Don't you know nothin' 'bout girls? We always change our minds." So he might be forgiven one minute and then in the doghouse the next. "Don't matter anyway. Since it's gettin' kinda crowded in here, I thought maybe we could go outside. Might even let ya walk me across the bowl since I ain't as heavily armed as I usually am and it's dark." Squaring her shoulders, Rocio tilts her head to the side just a little as she watches his expression for any signs of hesitation. A shrug follows. "And maybe I'll even tell ya about the time I met the Coin Killer up at the Hold."

"Right, forgot about that charming little quirk of girls." D'meus gives the crowd around them a glance, assessing just how packed it's gotten since their arrival. "If you want. Tzorath is across the bowl as it is, waiting for me." There's a tired note to his tone as if he might as well have said 'of course Tzorath is out there waiting for me'. He pushes his chair back, taking up the discarded jacket from earlier and slinging it over his shoulder as he moves to stand. Eyebrows lifting speculatively, "Coin Killer? That was the lunatic miner, yeah? You met him?"

Rising up from her chair when D'meus does from his, Rocio steps to the side and smoothes her dress to make sure things are aren't tucked where they're not supposed to be. When all is clear, the huntress can't help but nod and clear her throat at his final inquiry. "Yeah, you could say that." A beat, "What have you heard?" The trek across the bar takes a moment as she weaves through the crowd with a glance tossed behind her every once in a while to make sure that D'meus is still following. When they both finally step outside, the summer night air is warm and the bowl illuminated by a moonlit sky with clear sparkling stars against a dark canvas, a perfect setting to continue quiet conversation leading to the end of a very pleasant first date.

Add a New Comment