Who

K'vvan Ivy

What

K'vvan is eating and for some reason Ivy won't show him her backside.

When

It is afternoon of the twenty-eighth day of the first month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Living Caverns

OOC Date

 

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Living Caverns

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.


Timor: moon8.jpg
Belior: moon7.jpg

Lunch time was about an hour ago, and so there is only a smaller group in the Living Caverns. Former Whirlwind and Arroyo wingsecond is here, with food, and is eating. A wall across the way seems really really interesting and he is slightly zoned out as it stares at it.

Ivy, bundled up to the point that she's nearly as wide as she is tall (not very, in either dimension) maneuvers her way into the caverns, arms wrapped around a crate of foodstuffs. Between her poofy jacket sleeves and oversized mittens, the arrangement is a little precarious. She peeks over the top of a box and starts making her way carefully towards the kitchen area, unable to see where her feet are place.

The puffy woman's movement brings her right across K'vvan's line of sight and he jerks as if she started him out of whatever thoughts had occured to him. Geen eyes stare as she walks- finding her more interesting then the blank wall of a second before. A bite of food moves from his plate to mouth. It probably occurs to him to offer to help. But he doesn't.

Congratulations, Ivy, you're more interesting than a blank wall! The littlest brownrider loses her grip on the crate and, while she does not drop it, she does need to lurch sideways to find a table corner, K'vvan's table corner, to shore up her burden until she can get a better hold on it. A little bottle tumbles out and hits the floor, shattering and releasing a sweet aroma. "Crumbs." That's Ivy's worst swear.

"You know. Usually it's better to not carry more than actually are able." Green eyed gaze flicks down to where that bottle has hit the floor. He doesn't move towards it though- it's either juice or the stuff that he's still not allowed to be anywhere near. "And usually better when you aren't so bundled up so bad as to not be able to move your arms right."

Ivy sighs, sets the crate on the table and leans down to inspect the damage to the floor. Ah, there are K'vvan's dulcet tones hitting her ears. She should probably just ignore him, but, "I'm perfectly capable of carrying this, and I wouldn't be so bundled up if it weren't so bloody cold out." After making a few attempts to pick up the larger glass shards, Ivy sighs and lets a drudge bustle over. Standing up, she actually /sees/her heckler and it's not like she didn't know he'd cut his hair but this is the first time she's seen it close up and his eyes sure are awfully green when you can see them like that and then she's just staring all awkwardly with her jaw dropped.

Another bite of food moves from plate to mouth as Ivy tries to explain herself. "You and that brown of yours go between and you're all bundled for a little winter chill?" K'vvan's eyebrow shoots upwards, the sarcasm dipping from his lips. When she starts to stare it only arches higher. "You got a problem?"

"I..nothing. I mean, no! No," Ivy stammers, blushing furiously and trying to hide it behind a curtain of hair, which she can't actually do because it's still braided from drills. "It's…between is only for a few seconds," she defends herself lamely, now staring at the puddle of juice (for that is what it was) on the floor.

K'vvan leans forward slightly, pressing an elbow on the table to rest his head on. "You know, usually I've got the corner on rude." It's almost conversational in tone, though the sarcasm still rings clearly. His hand with fork in fingers points over to the spilled juice. "Gonna just wait for Prinline to find you and kill you?"

Arms cross across her chest…well, almost cross. Sleeves are too puffed. Still reddened, Ivy keeps her pale gaze fastened on the spill, and glowers. "I think you've still got it," she mumbles before sighing and unfastening her parka to wriggle out of the cumbersome thing and toss it on the tabletop. One of those sleeves flaps dangerously close to K'vvan's plate. "I'm gonna clean it up." But she doesn't. She just watches it.

Having rediscovered an interest in eating, K'vvan isn't about to let his food get squished by the puffy coat. He snags it out of the air and arranges it neatly on the chair next to him. "F*ck woman, what the hell is wrong with you?" But… even with the sear words, it isn't anger that tinges that tone. It's… laughter? K'vvan pokes a fork into his food again.

No way is Ivy going to get down on the floor and scrub it in front of K'vvan, and she lets out a sharp sigh of annoyance, though well-bred holder girl manners kick in when the greenrider rearranges her jacket and a "Thank you," slips out against her will. Unable to clean in front of K'vv and unable to leave without cleaning, she leans a hip against the table and rifles through her crate to assess further damage. "I was /going/ to make some cookies." She darts a little peep at K'vvan from under her eyelashes.

"What does cookies have to do with spilling juice?" That forkfull of food is popped into his mouth and he chews speculativly. Eyes move form Ivy to the floor and back up again. Finally, he picks up his cloth napkin and offers it up. Helpful, isn't he?

Now she has something to fidget with. Snatching the napkin, Ivy twists it in her hands and does not use it for what it was clearly offered for. "Flavoring," the girl snaps back. "For the icing. They're for the wing." K'vvan sure is getting a lot of information about cookies.

Silence as K'vvan chews slowly. Six months ago and he would have probably been cast into anger and snapped at the woman despite her not doing anything wrong. But now? Now he just watches and eats. "So. Why aren't you cleanin' it up? Never figured you enjoyed my company that much."

Chalk it up to the haircut? "I'm going to," Ivy says again, but instead checking over the crate's contents yet again. When there is no more checking plausibly left to do, she gives in and tosses the napkin on the floor, gingerly poking it through the spill with her boot toe. K'vvan's final words bring up the blush again, which hadn't quite faded entirely to begin with. "I /don't/."

K'vvan isn't totally stupid. It just takes him longer to figure out Ivy's reluctance. "Seriously Ivy?" Incredulousness sits in his voice as he stares at her. "Want me to f*king cover my eyes or some s*it while you clean that up?"

Well if he's going to offer, "Fine." Ivy can't get any redder and it doesn't seem possible for things to get any worse. If anything, she seems to break through a plateau of misery and come out the other side almost desperately amused. The little rider lifts her chin haughtily and twirls a finger. "Turn around." Is that almost…a smirk?

"Yeah, no." If anything K'vvan is just going to stare harder. For the first time his glance goes from her face downwards, then back up again. "You don't have anything I'd be interested in looking at." Blunt, and to the point, K'vvan sticks another bite of food into his mouth. He chews pointedly as he glances down at the juice again. Upraised eyebrow.

It's true, there's not much anyone would be interested in looking at. "I don't care. Turn around." Ivy crosses her arms over her (meager) chest again and glares. Because now it's a thing.

"Really?" K'vvan stares at Ivy now. "You trust me to watch your a** in flight, but won't clean up a bit of juice from the ground if I'm looking? What the hell brought on that change?"

Ivy shifts her weight from one booted foot to the other. "It's not about my…my…my behind," she answers, failing on the attempt to use the same term K'vvan did. "Why're you all obsessed about it anyway? I'll get to it when I get to it."

"Got some time on my hands. And N'cal says I ought to be nice to my fellow female riders." Well, that's not exactly what the bluerider had said. "So I figure I'll practice. So. What is it all about?" Food, fork, chew, stare. K'vvan isn't about to leave Ivy off, not now that he's decided to be stubborn about it.

Ivy toes at the juice-soaked napkin on the floor again. "You have to /practice/ being nice to people," she echoes incredulously. At least she knows who to thank for giving him the idea. Or the order, as the case may be. She ducks her head away from all that staring. "I just…don't like to get on the floor in front of people." Man people.

"Woman, that kind of s*it goes to the mindhealers." Because of COURSE K'vvan is going to assume that Ivy's reluctance has something to do with the worst side of humanity. With a large assumption made, K'vvan actually does stand now and moves to the other side of the table. He kneels and begins to soak up the juice, though he sniffs before to make sure it IS just juice.

And now he's being helpful, which is really about more than Ivy can stand. "I…uh…thank you," she gets out in a strangled-sounding voice before gathering up her crate and skittering off into the kitchen. She leaves the jacket behind in her haste.

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