| Who | |
| What |
G'tan stumbles across Erissa engaged in a rather aggressive activity. |
| When |
It is late night of the tenth day of the tenth month of the first turn of the 12th pass. |
| Where |
Kitchens, Igen Weyr |
| OOC Date |
Kitchen
Chaos and anomie reign in this hub of food production. It's not so much the smell, which varies from 'faintly edible' to 'coal', as the film of grease that adds a sheen to every surface and glues canine hair to the wall. The area is well set up, of course — it's a large kitchen with more than adequate counter space. There's plenty of room to get around, too, even with the centralized canine spit run dominating the center of the floor. The place is just, well, not 'up to code'. Several large stoves belch smoke that chars the blocked chimney's outer brick. Unidentifiable bits of food have been baked to the floors and ground in by the uncaring trod of drudge shoes. Even the sink is crusty, with it's constant tower of filthy dishes and lack of cleansing sand to be seen anywhere. Add in the bloodied smears on cutting boards and what you have is a monument to cross contamination.
Characters
Log
BAM!
BAM-BAM!
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!
By time the gunfire application of tenderizing utensil to slab of meat is finished, Erissa feels momentarily better. But only a little bit. Shoving the newly pulverized protein aside she reaches into a barrel at her side and yanks out another chunk, drops it onto the cutting board with a moist slap and starts over again.
BAM!
BAM-BAM!
You get the picture.
One might think someone would have said something to the bluerider by now, however, being late in the evening and well after the dinner mark, there are few kitchen folk around and those who remain give the surly looking blond who’s wielding innocent kitchenware like a dangerous weapon a very wide berth.
Here’s someone who will very likely say something to the bluerider, just because he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut upon seeing a shockingly familiar face. G’tan, newly arrived to the Weyr this evening, has been shown the major sights, assigned a Weyr above the North Bowl…and has promptly left Zinakoth to exploring his new, weatherbeaten home in favor of finding food. Stopping not far inside the Living Cavern entrance, he makes a face; dinner’s long since passed, so the odds of scraping something together aside from klah and a few pastries out here aren’t good. The man is hungry, for Faranth’s sake! Though if he ventures back further, there might be a cook he’ll be able to charm out of a thing or two…
The sound of sharp pounding hauls him up short, thick brows drawing together curiously. If Pern had guns, what’s coming from beyond the kitchen door would be comparable. What could it be? G’tan quietly pushes the door open, wincing slightly at the suddenly loudening of sharp banging and looking around for the source. What a surprise it is when he spies the culprit; he’d know that hair anywhere! Venturing further in and coming up on Erissa’s left while still giving her a good berth, the bronzerider folds toned arms across his chest and leans a hip against the nearest counter. “What’d you do, piss off your wingleader and pull KP duty?” he asks, grinning crookedly. “Not the meat’s fault, y’know.”
BAM!
The tenderizer pointedly drops once more and stops, Erissa’s temper flaring out from her body in invisible waves. Someone DARED to speak to her?? It’s a death-wish she will happily deliver, as evidenced by the rigid line of spine, tightness of well-toned muscle and scowling set of fine features.
Death by tenderizer!! What a way to go.
Immobile except for a slight turn of her head, the bluerider brings the speaker into her sight. The shock of recognizing who she sees is enough to rip the stool her angry frustration was standing on right out from under her. The scowl remains but is lessened when pale lashes flutter and confusion seeps into her expression. Recovering quickly she arcs light-hued brows and steadies a hard look on the other rider.
“You never know. The animal it came from might’ve bitten someone.”
BAM!
Dark blue gaze remains fixed on the bronzer as she drops the tenderizer once more with a hearty blow. Take that!
“But you’re right,” she unexpectedly concedes, slowly turning back to the counter in front of her. “Perhaps it’s ready for step two.” Setting the punishing utensil aside she reaches for another that has been patiently waiting off to the side and hefts it in her hand instead.
A knife. A great big, shiny cutting knife with a wicked looking edge to it.
Pausing another second she hovers the knife over the slab of bloody meat…. then:
THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK!
In about five seconds, the slab of meat becomes slices of meat, which she summarily picks up and drops into a large bowl. Still wielding the knife she turns back to the kitchen interloper.
“So, G’tan. What’re you doing here?”
The somewhat scruffy bronzerider winces again when Erissa proceeds to attack the meet with a knife now, though that part is over more quickly, at least. “Damn, Erissa,” G’tan breathes, though he’s chuckling while he voices the words. Edging just a step closer, he leans back against the end of the counter she’s working on and gives a shrug. “Lookin’ for some food, of course,” he returns with a quick bit of an eyebrow waggle before he reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Transferred. Just got here. Zinakoth loves it already.” Glancing around, he makes a bit of a dubious face. “Gonna take some gettin’ used to all this sand instead of water, but…I dunno. It was time for a switch anyway.”
There’s yet another shrug, and he shifts, spotting a promising-looking bowl covered with a towel on another nearby counter. “I almost forgot about you and Cha’el ending up here,” he says, flipping back the towel and peering beneath it carefully. “How’s Danorath? A-hah!” That last comes when he spies a redfruit in the bottom of the bowl. Looking about, he spots the only cook present at the moment and takes advantage of her turned back to purloin the thing, settling back in his previous spot against Erissa’s counter and looking at her expectantly as he sets to peeling it.
Erissa breathes out heavily once and doesn’t quite roll her eyes at his logical response. Typical G’tan. The fact that he transferred, however, raises pale brows. Then he’s mentioning Cha’el and with a grimace the bluerider turns her gaze back to the counter where a previous hunk of meat that was tenderized awaits. Yanking it into place in front of her she begins chopping with the same vicious vigor as previously displayed, applying the knife with scary proficiency.
“Dano’s fine. He doesn’t prefer the sand to sunny beaches but he’s found things he likes.” The chopping pauses as she pushes the newly cut pieces aside and adjusts her angle to continue with the rest of it. “Why’d you transfer?” she asks, emphasis implying the move isn’t something she’d expect of him.
It’s true - G’tan would be content to stay put wherever he lands. He might’ve stayed at Ista for the rest of his life, birth to death, and not had a single complaint. Moving wouldn’t have been his idea…and it certainly wasn’t in this case. He nods to Erissa’s answer about Danorath as he chews on a hunk of redfruit, though he noticed her grimace after the mention of Cha’el. Filed away for later! At her question, he laughs a little. “I, uh…might’ve rearranged my wingleader’s nose for him. He didn’t like the new look.” The next section of fruit he holds is suddenly the most interesting thing he’s ever seen for a moment, and then he pops it in his mouth and just looks over at Erissa with a pop of thick brows and a shrug that seems to say ‘oh well; whatcha gonna do?’.
Now THAT answer actually stops the chopping and Erissa spares a raised brow look for the ex-Istan, a little crook to the corner of full lips marking approval rather than censure.
“Oh, please tell me it was H’nin. Please?” The arrogant Istan rider had given her enough grief that she could only wish she had had an opportunity to pop him in the nose!
With a rather mirthless grin, G’tan gives a wicked chuckle and turns a darkened blue gaze on Erissa, the waggle of eyebrows he gives in reply surely enough indication alongside everything else to confirm her guess without words. The grin remains until necessity forces him to open his mouth to finish off the last of his fruit, and he glances around for a refuse bin. “Difference of opinion,” he offers as his initial explanation before attempting to toss the rind at the bin. He makes it - barely.
Erissa correctly interprets that reply as a yes and for the first time since entering the kitchen the scowl melts from her expression. That it’s replaced by a wickedly delighted grin probably isn’t much better but at least the chop-chopping of the knife slows to a pace that won’t take off a finger if she were to miscalculate.
“No surprise there,” she snorts, “I’m glad someone finally gave him what he deserved.” His near miss earns another snort. Apparently she’s full of a lot of air tonight. “Sorry you got the brunt end of it though.”
“He was an ass,” G’tan states, his tone dryly matter-of-fact as he sets about poking around the nearby counters again for yet more sustenance. “You can only work with someone civilly up to a point, y’know? Hey!” Another victory as the bronzerider finds something hiding in a flat pan beneath some baking parchement. He slips what looks like a meatroll discreetly out from beneath, sniffs at it, deems it worthy of trying a bite, and chuckles contentedly. “Perfect,” he declares around his mouthful, swallowing before looking to Erissa again.
“Coulda been worse. Coulda sent me off to Reaches or something.” The thought makes him grimace. “I know he was awful to you, though, so. Glad I could give him a little love back. And uh…sorry if I ever was to you, too. Awful, I mean.” He’s not looking at her when he says it, but his tone is sincere at least. “Won’t say sorry for the times Zin stole Dano’s catches, though,” he adds in a far more flippant tone, “BUT still. Sorry for that.”
Erissa does know only too well, as a slight shake of her head and knowing expression indicate. His delight in finding late-night sustenance would be amusing if she wasn’t in such a bad mood so when he comes back to her counter she only pours her frustration out on the helpless slab of meat. Having thoroughly sliced the portions that had been sitting on the counter she sets the knife aside and retrieves the tenderizer again, then lifts another healthy chunk of meat from the barrel.
She only manages to get in a few good hits before G’tan’s words slow her pace, distraction taking effect. Since he isn’t looking at her she sneaks a look at his profile, dark blue hues searching his handsome features. Of course then he has to go and diss Dano’s flying skills - also typical G’tan - and the next few falls of the tenderizer elicit a rather grotesque squishing sound from the bloody meat.
“If Zin caught it’s only because Dano didn’t really want to win that one.” Qualifying the number of instances along with the reason she adds after a slight pause. “But I suppose you just can’t help being a jerk so I forgive you.”
“Oh, so that’s gonna be the excuse for just that one time, huh?” G’tan returns, sounding pleasantly surprised. “The once out of…” He falls quiet, lips moving as he counts on his fingers for a second, then waves it off. “Well, however many. I’ll take it. But you’re right, I am a jerk.” After a moment of hanging his head in feigned shame, he grins at the bluerider rakishly. “You should think of a way to make me suffer for it later.”
Finishing off the meatroll, he brushes the crumbs from his hands and - of course - sets about looking for more food. “So, uh…what or who’s all the meat for, anyway?” he asks, passing behind Erissa on his way to a new counter. “Not just for takin’ your frustrations out on, right?” Since he highly doubts she’s just helping out the kitchen staff to burn off some energy.
“Keep dreamin’ bronzer,” Erissa grumbles, grinding the knife into a particularly tough patch of meat. “Dano can fly circles around that big lug of yours and you know it.” That chagrined look of his doesn’t fool her for a second. Flipping from taunt to tease she huffs sharply and pauses to shoot him a smug look. “You couldn’t handle what I’d dish out, lover boy.”
As he turns for more scavenging the blond woman’s attention turns back to the job at hand and she strikes the rest of her current selection with a blast of vigor. Not looking as he passes behind her she nevertheless finishes a few more hard hacks that resound loudly against the cutting board and stops.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” she huffs, lifting one arm to swipe upper arm across her cheek and shove aside tickling strands of near-white hue. The chunk she’d been hacking is already cut but she slices them even more with a quick burst of slamming thrusts, punctuating her words as she adds, “They needed some sucker to do it and I was stupid enough to get in trouble.”
“Oh, I know it; Zin can just last longer, and you know it.” A familiar argument, this, and G’tan takes it with the same nonchalance he always has. At Erissa’s tease, there’s a brief glint to the bronzerider’s eye as he turns a small, crooked smile on her. “There’s somethin’ I could say about never knowing ‘til something’s been tried, but I think I’d like you to keep pounding the meat and not my head.” If she didn’t have certain implements both blunt and sharp close at hand - and if the bluerider were in a better mood - he might’ve taken that one a little further. To his credit, he’s not completely stupid.
“Huh,” is grunted after her answer as he pokes around further, coming across one of the small hearths still lit with a pan brace set over it and - lo and behold - a cast iron skillet hanging nearby. “So you really did pull KP. What’d you do? Don’t have to tell me, of course - just wonderin’.” Turning back, he eyes the meat she’s chopping. “Think they’d notice if I lifted a few strips?”
In her current mood Erissa would happily argue the stupidity of men in general but, alas, G’tan keeps that topic to himself. Nearly mincing the current slab of meat on her cutting board, the bluerider finally scoops it up and drops it all rather forcibly into the big bowl. Whatever the destination of her efforts, the cooks are going to have a time with such a drastic variety of cuts.
To his question she pauses and looks up, swinging the knife in a rolling gesture.
“By all means! Help yourself. Right now I couldn’t care less whether they’d want you to or not.”
Having skipped over his previous question it appears she may not be going to answer it. But after yanking another heavy slab to her counter she hesitates a moment, heaves a deep sigh, then says, “I’m just having some issues lately, that’s all.” She pauses as if to add more to that but instead launches onto an obvious tangent. “What wing they put you in?” And there goes the chopping again, each landing of the knife resoundingly solid.
No sooner has Erissa voiced those first three words than G’tan is plucking up a small handful of that meat and plopping it onto the skillet he’s set over that small hearth fire, surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder to see who might end up catching him. No doubt the smell will be noticed at some point…but he doesn’t care. He’s been pulling stuff like this since he was a kid and knows well how to charm his way out of anything worse than a mild scolding.
Not about to press about the bluerider’s ‘issues’ unless she elaborates (or unless he learns more, somehow), he rides right along with that tangent she takes. “Whirlwind,” he replies with a smile as he flips the now-sizzling meat in the pan, glancing over at Erissa with blue eyes flicking between her and the knife in her hand before concentrating on his cooking. “Who d’you fly with?”
One loud chop lands with a note of finality as Erissa suddenly stops and looks to the other rider. Without thinking she rolls the red-stained knife in airy gesture.
“Whirlwind?” she echoes, surprise raising pale brows.
Huh.
On one hand it’ll be good to work with someone she has a decent history with but on the other hand that history was somewhat jaded by the competition that raged between them. Still, watching his back as he flips the meat in his pan she decides the good outweighs the bad.
“So am I,” she goes on to add in response to his question. Lips pull to one side, falling back on the banter that usually colored their interactions. “Whirlies are the best. Who’d you bribe to get put in our wing?”
“Didn’t bribe anyone,” G’tan replies matter-of-factly, sending the meat slightly airborne once more before shoving it around the skillet a bit and then pulling the whole affair from the fire to a cooling rack. “Zin and I know what we’re doing; we were ‘seconding at Ista right before you left, remember?” Not that the rank necessarily means automatic earning of a Whirlwind spot…but it’s gotta be good for something. “I’m sure my record got looked over. We’re…y’know. Capable. And obviously you are too, if you’re there.” No teasing there, just simple fact.
As he waits for his food to cool, he leans back against the counter again with folded arms. “Anything I oughta look out for? Or anyone?” he asks with a smirk.
Erissa goes back to dropping another series of chops to the current selection of meat on her counter while mulling over G’tan’s comments. His reminder isn’t necessary. There’s respect behind all her teasing for the rider and his bronze. She’s seen him in action enough to know they are a dependable and skilled pair. That doesn’t mean she’s going to like all the times his Zin scooped a flight out from Dano’s claws, however, nor stop feeling the competitive edge that being around him engenders. As for the flirting that often laces their banter? Well, that’s just unavoidable. The man is damn good looking, after all.
So, when he tosses a compliment her way she simply nods and slows her chopping to consider the question that follows.
“Well, there’s the usual snobbery and arrogance, of course. I’m sure you’ll spot the worse of those right away. Whirlwind does have more than it’s fair share of excessive muscle and brawn and highly skilled flyers.” Chopped chunks are slid aside as she makes room for more.
“Zella is as randy as her green so you’ll have her trying to cling to your arm in no time. Though she’s not dangerous, just dense. Ninah is the one you’ll wanna be checking your balls at the door for otherwise she’ll steal’em when you aren’t looking.” Meat cut, she switches to the tenderizer for another slab, continuing her commentary with barely a pause.
“J’eb is just plain lazy and drives me insane. His mouth is way bigger than his actual skills. I, uh, may have nailed him with a firestone sack and knocked him clean off his dragon one time.” That one draws a completely unrepentant smirk across her lips. “He and S’oren are buddies and haven’t forgiven me for that yet but I don’t care how much crap they give me it was worth it.” The knife halts and is lifted to point toward G’tan. “NOT, mind you, that it wasn’t an accident! I wasn’t trying to hit him when it happened.” Pausing a moment to ensure that her point is made she then goes back to thumping the meat into submission.
“And of course there’s Cha’el, whom you already know.” There’s a distinct brightening of her tone just saying the brownrider’s name. “And W’rin. I assume you’ve talked to both of them already, eh?”
G’tan enjoys the competitiveness between himself and Erissa, having always found it a little fun to see her riled up. And of course the flirting is unavoidable; the bluerider’s pretty easy on the eyes, herself. He’s not about to ignore that.
Using his fingers alone - because it’s only a little bit of meat; who needs utensils? - the bronzerider pinches up some of the meat and gets it quickly in his mouth, making a face and hissing backward through pursed lips for a moment, as one does when something is too hot. Listening to Erissa, he snorts in agreement over the matter of snobbery. The observation about the greenriders elicits a crooked grin - duly noted! - and her story about the rider she nailed with firestone earns a laugh. At her pause, G’tan holds up his hands; who is he to argue? She’s holding the tenderizer again, after all.
“Talked to W’rin briefly,” he says with a nod around another mouthful of meat. Chews, swallows. “Got shown around by another bronzer, and I haven’t run into Cha’el yet. I’ll have to catch him for a drink sometime. You, too, when you’re not busy beatin’ dead meat.” A casual suggestion, but it’s there nonetheless.
Catching the brightening to Erissa’s tone, G’tan can’t help himself. “So, uh, are you and Cha’el still…y’know..?” he asks, studying the nail he’s busy scraping at and looking up at the bluerider with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
A good stiff drink might just be what Erissa needs so his offer, even though framed in a tease, is simply given a knowing smirk and a few extra good whacks with the tenderizer. Meat beater, indeed!
Noting his cooking efforts with some amusement the bluerider even goes so far as to make an offer of goodwill.
“I saw’em put some wrapped cheese in that cupboard on the end,” she says with a tilt of her head. “Good half a wedge if you’re wanting something to go with….. whatever it is you’re cooking over there.”
At mention of Cha’el again, she halts her efforts completely and seems to examine her handiwork even as she replies in a confident tone.
“Oh yes. Tight as can be. He’s crazy about me. He even saved my life when a couple of wild boars attacked when we were down south. Carried me all the way back to Dano. He’s doing really well here. Makes an excellent Weyrsecond. A little too lax on his choice of pet projects, in my opinion, but that’s just the way he is. Sees something broken; he’s gotta fix it.”
WHACK! Pause. WHACK! Longer pause. WHACK!
Spot tenderizing.
Then, out of the blue, “So what about you? I take it since you’re here that you never settled down with a weyrmate?”
Although G’tan may find it a bit interesting, the way Erissa answers him concerning Cha’el, he doesn’t question aloud. She still has weapons, after all. “Damn,” he says under his breath, a droop of his shoulders feigning dejection. “Oh well,” he sighs, and then there’s that confounded eyebrow-waggle, and he’s moving on.
The thought of cheese perks him up, and he turns eagerly to the cupboard she indicates, coming back up with said wedge of cheese. “Nice! Thanks.” Biting into it, he makes a very obviously appreciative face. “Someone’s got a knack for this stuff. Wonder where they get it from?” he wonders aloud, one more taking up a spot against the end of Erissa’s counter.
Her question has his brows skyrocketing. “Me? Naaaaah. Just…a few nice girls here and there, nothin’ real serious. No one right now… Takin’ my time and havin’ fun, y’know?” He grins roguishly. “I’m not even sure who’d want to put up with my ass on a regular basis. Guess I’ll know when it happens, right? No rush.”
Current selection thoroughly pulverized, Erissa switches to the knife for chopping just as G’tan returns with the cheese. Pausing before proceeding she actually pulls the ghost of a smile at his speculative comment, happy to enlighten him on that topic.
“It’s probably one of Sienna’s. She does wonders with cheese. She even named a new variety after me, which I would highly recommend as it’s absolutely delicious. She called it ‘Teal’, which, I admit, is a bit scary for a cheese but it’s because she rides green and I ride blue. Get it?”
Choppity-chop-chop goes the knife, making quick and vigorous work of the meat. Apparently the combination of effort so far expended and chatting with G’tan has helped her work out some of her frustrations though as the knife is applied with considerably less force.
His reply to her question earns a definitive tug of lips to one side and roll of her eyes. Typical bronzer reply. “Good point,” she remarks on someone who would be willing to tolerate him. “Though I hear there’s an old laundress who has a thing for young asses. If you can tolerate a woman as wrinkled as two-day laundry you might get some good benefits out of it.”
“Sienna, huh? Greenrider? Gonna have to meet this gal,” G’tan decides, popping a bit more of the cheese into his mouth and eying Erissa with extreme amusement. Yes, he gets it. “You got a cheese named after you? Wow. Not somethin’ you hear everyday.” Chuckling, he finishes off his hunk of the stuff and brushes off his hands.
To the bluerider’s last, he makes a face and folds his arms again. “I appreciate it, but that sounds about as much fun as two-day-old laundry, too,” he replies flatly. “I’m sure it shouldn’t take me too long to find another source of good benefits, though.” A wink is sent Erissa’s way, and then the bronzerider moves again, taking up the now-greasy skillet he’d used and hauling it over to a washbasin full of soapy water. “Guess I’ll get outta your hair now,” he says, scrubbing away and then rinsing the thing. “Though, uh…I’d love to drag you outta here for that drink, if you’re close to done. I could sure use it after all that.” Hanging the freshly dried skillet back on its hook, he crooks a smile at Erissa expectantly.
That’s right. She’s famous. Proceed to envy now.
Shrugging a shoulder with smug nonchalance Erissa drops her gaze before a little grin sneaks out of cover. She’d been pleasantly surprised by Sienna’s offer as well but heh, it was really good cheese!
His humorous response flickers a bit of light through the heavy fog of frustrated negativity that had led her to the onerous job of processing cutlets in the first place. Snorting an exaggerated chuckle she shakes her head and slices home the last bit of meat in front of her. As G’tan makes his offer she slides the meat off the board and drops it into the waiting bowl, now quite full, and pauses to lift pale brows in the bronzers direction. A look of thoughtful resignation overcomes pretty features. Raising the knife wielding hand she swipes the back of it across her nose, dark blue hues dropping to survey the counter in front of her. Finally she sighs and nods, the sway of white-blond locks falling across one eye.
“Yah, I’m done here. Been done, actually. Couldn’t quit a while ago but was enjoying myself too much.” Gathering up the tenderizer she holds both it and the knife in one hand while concluding, “It felt good to beat and chop something up, ya know?”
Does he know? It’s rather a scary question but the bluerider doesn’t seem to notice if it comes across that way. Whether he answers or not she begins to move, going over to the washbasin and depositing her utensils, then returning with a wet rag and starting to wash off the counter.
“Can you put that bowl on the counter over there?” she asks, jerking a gesture from the meat-filled bowl on the cutting counter to a spot along the wall.
G’tan’s eyes…follow the knife, a brow of his own raising as he watches. It may just be that the bronzer likes living on the edge a little bit in spite of his nonchalance - that living on the edge entailing trying to get a pretty, knife-and-tenderizer-wielding bluerider to go have a drink with him. Not much more than that, really. Adventurous!
Erissa’s question - the scary one - draws a snort and a slight tilt of his head as he watches her go about cleaning. “Kinda what got me here. Well, the beating part, not the chopping. Though a good hunt with some chopping involved afterward? That’s always nice.” So yes, he gets it.
The bowl of meat is not a problem. G’tan pulls the bowl into a brawny arm easily and sets it where she indicates, then crosses back. “There ya go. Anything else?” Is she going to make him work for that drink?
Leaning on the counter as she stretches her arm out to reach across it with the washcloth, Erissa listens while keeping eyes on what she’s doing. The swing of her arm slows for a moment as he finishes his comparison and she considers it, but then speeds up again.
“That’d do for Dano, definitely. Me though…. I need something else. Something I can directly affect.” A pause follows as she scrubs at a stubborn spot, then, “Like this thing Kyara showed me with a punching bag. That’s what I need. My own punching bag in my weyr.” There’s just a hint of bitterness mingled with the longing in that statement.
Then he’s doing as she asked and when he returns she’s straightening, the counter clean. “Um…. actually if you could shove this barrel back over by the wall that’d be great. It’s much lighter now that I cut up so much of what was in it.” Pale brows twitch as she looks to the well-muscled bronzerider, knowing full well he can do it but unable to resist teasing him anyway. Nothing like a little zing to the testosterone to get a man riled, eh?
A barrel now? G’tan eyes Erissa for a moment, catching that twitch of brows and giving a snort as he reaches down and lifts the thing rather than just pushing it across the floor, looking at her the entire time. “What? Think I couldn’ta handled it full?” Another little eyebrow-waggle precedes him turning and moving it to where she said it came from. “So why don’t you just get one?” he asks about the punching bag, setting the barrel down with a grunt and returning once again. “And who’s Kyara? Workout buddy or what?” There’s yet another crooked smile. Someone else he needs to meet?”
Erissa feigns a grimace as he moves the barrel, supposedly in worry for the strain he might be putting on himself. Only when he turns away does she let it slip into the makings of a grin. The dirty cloth she was using is deposited in a bucket, then she steps over to the sink to wash her hands.
“I have no idea where I’d get one,” she replies to his question. “Kyara is an Arroyo greenrider. She’s training me in some defensive/offensive techniques and she brought one of those bags along the last time. I didn’t get to use it much but.… I really liked the idea of working out with it.” So says the woman who just mulched nearly a barrel’s worth of meat.
Spying that crooked smile of his over her shoulder she adds with a cant of warning, “Don’t even think about it. She’s already quite happily attached.”
“Alright, alright,” G’tan says, holding up his hands but retaining that canted grin. In fact, it widens. “Still wouldn’t mind meeting her.” He’s just a social guy like that. “A gal teaching people to fight. Sounds interesting.” There’s no cynicism to the statement; he’s still getting used to hearing that such things exist…and there’s no denying them.
“So ask her if she knows where to get one,” he suggests, lacing his fingers behind his head as he continues watching the bluerider.
Erissa crooks a wan look at the other rider. Normally that typically skewed Nowtimer attitude regarding women drove her mad but G’tan has enough of a good will buffer with her that she lets it slide with just a boastful response.
“Of course it’s interesting. She’s the best. Run circles around any man, I’m sure. That’s why I asked her.”
Rolling one shoulder Erissa frowns as a familiar ache overlays muscles, running beneath her skin like a hovering trap waiting to spring. Venting anger and frustration on the meat had been a convenient distraction but now the symptoms that had been assailing her of late were crawling back. Maybe a good stiff drink would hold them off longer. Worth a try.
Belatedly realizing G’tan had spoken again, Erissa jerks a look his way and stands straighter, one hand running through the side of tousled blond layers.
“I’ll have to do that. Didn’t get a chance last time. We were… cut short.” Which was totally not Erissa’s fault. Nope. Nuh-uh. That raised hand drops into a rolling gesture toward the exit. “So we gonna get that drink or just stand around here gabbing like two old aunties?”
Yes, she just called him an old woman.
She just called herself an old woman, too. G’tan snorts, pushing off the counter and shoving a hand through his hair. “I’ll pay if you lead the way, grandma,” he says with another crook of a grin. “Where’s good around here?” He may not know, but he’ll at least lead the way to the door, and even hold it open.
At least she is a woman though. His return jibe is well played with the offer to pay added to it. Schooling pretty features into a look of thoughtful consideration (as if she’d say no to a free drink!) she moves toward the door, purposely adding a saucy, very non-grandma-ish sway to slender hips and even makes a bold dart of hand to slap one side of his fetching derriere as she passes.
“Come along, junior. It’s called the Dustbowl Cantina,” is tossed over her shoulder with a smug flip of palest locks.
The slap to his rear makes G’tan jerk, a slight grunt accompanying, and he shakes his head, even as he rather blatantly watches her pass. “Damn it, Erissa,” is muttered almost under his breath. With a huff he lets the door shut and follows her off toward the Cantina - somewhere he’ll probably come to know quite well after this, knowing the bronzerider. At least he’s being introduced to it by a familiar face! An unexpected way to begin his stay at Igen - but all things considered, not a bad start, at least.
Enjoyed the back and forth banter!