Who

Clementine, M'noq

What

While escaping her weyr for a little, Clementine runs into M'noq. The two have plenty of catching up to do.

When

It is evening of the seventh day of the eighth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

The Tipsy Kitten, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 10 Apr 2016 04:00

 

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""Hey there, weyrmate. It has been a while. How are you feeling?"


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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.


It is early evening, and as usual for this time of Turn, there is a cold, miserable drizzle falling. The establishment is fairly empty at this point, only a couple people sitting at the bar, though it is likely to get more busy later, for those who don't mind braving the weather for a drink. M'noq enters the tavern quietly, not exactly a regular here. Pulling off his waterproof hood, he goes to the bar and flags down the bartender. The man gives M'noq the once-over, then ambles over. They have a quiet discussion, muttered and tense, though difficult for anyone eavesdropping to overhear.

Clementine is able to move around, even if she's supposed to be laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. After an entire day of doing that, she's opted to take a slow stroll around the weyr that ends up with her here at the Kitten. It's just like a rest stop, with alcoholic refreshments. With a bar stool claimed, she can mostly pretend like she's not in some form of discomfort. Peering down the counter she spies M'noq entered into his conversation with the bartender. Whenever they break apart she'll give a little wave, first to the man at the counter and then to the brownrider. "Whiskey neat, please. And hello, it's been awhile, weyrmate."

M'noq's conversation with the bartender goes on for a bit more, and finally the brownrider fishes out a handful of marks and pushes them forcefully into the man's hand. "This is the last time, you hear?" M'noq says, uncharacteristic temper in his voice. "I'm not the one with the problem, buddy," the bartender smirks, then gives the weyrwoman a sweet smile as he serves up her drink. Even with Clementine calling to him, it takes him a moment to tamp down his annoyance. "Hey there, weyrmate. It has been a while. How are you feeling?" Don't pretend like the whole Weyr wasn't talking about the goldrider's injury after the surprise fall. "The healers tell you to come here for some therapy?" A wry smile.

Clementine's gaze narrows and darts between the men, her mouth pulling into a frown. It's one that she forces away when the drink comes to her and she encircles her fingers around it. "You alright?" She wonders, lifting her chin towards the bartender's back. A motion is made at the spot closer to her, "I'd move to you but… I'm pretending this isn't as bad as it seems." The goldrider smirks before taking a long sip from her glass. "I'm fine. Well, the healers did tell me to take it easy. And what's taking it easier than a night out relaxing and catching up with an old friend?" See, M'noq fits perfectly into the healer's plans! Or at least her version of the healer's plans.

M'noq joins Clementine near her spot at the bar, making a face at the bartender's back. "Yeah, it's fine. Just paying off a bar tab. Would be easier if the bartender would just cut a person off, but apparently they won't." Probably has something to do with gambling debts, or maybe just that they know someone else will shell out for whatever is owed. M'noq manages a little chuckle. "So, the healers don't actually know you're here? Don't worry, I won't tell. I actually have been worried about you after that crazy fall, but we basically never run into each other these days. Nemekhath is fine, right?"

"Oh. Do you want me to threaten him? I could do that." Clementine plucks at the imaginary knot on her shoulder. Because she's not actually wearing hers right now, but he can visualize it there. Her offer to take care of the problem is genuine too, but she won't do it without his permission. "They released me to rest in my weyr. But it got sort of boring in there, running over all my problems in my mind over and over." She shrugs her shoulders, smiling sheepishly. "So here I am." The memory of the fall has her frowning again and she shakes her head. "That other dragon just came out of no where. One second I was aiming my flamethrower and the next I was caught up in the tangle I was trying to burn out."

"No, no need for you to get involved," M'noq quickly says. The last thing he wants is more attention to this. "I have the feeling threats are flying already, and I'm sure I don't know half the peoplve involved. Besides, I'd rather not have rumors added to the ones that are already out there." His voice drops and he leans a bit closer to her. "It's family, all right? My father…." He breaks off. She can put together the pieces, right? Anyway, it's easier to talk about work. "It was an unfortunate accident. I'm glad you weren't hurt worse. Still, I hate when mistakes like that happen. Ah… not that I'm saying it's your fault, of course." Let's just blame the other dragon.

She nods her head in acknowledgement, "Sure, no. I understand. You want to handle your own business." Clementine can appreciate that angle. It's here that she takes another sip from her glass, "But if you decide you want the help, I can at least take care of the bartender. And I'm sorry that your family is causing you trouble." Her expression is sympathetic as gears are switched over to wing talk. "I wish I knew what happened to have him come down on us like that. But I think that I'm more sorry that he's dead, that's worse than my threadscore."

M'noq muses on that. "Bad judgment. Or maybe confusion where he was supposed to be in formation, what he was responsible for. Or maybe he just wanted to be a hero." He grimaces apologetically. "Sorry, I think about these kind of things a lot. Maybe it keeps me aware that if I didn't rely on Ravaith as much as I do, I might end up as one of those casualties too. And Lynx has T'ral, who goes above and beyond to keep us all safe. Well, he does everything he can." Of course a Lynx rider fell to Thread as well during that chaotic fall. "I guess it's a lot of moving pieces."

"I don't know anything about him, I sort of wish that I did now." Clementine's eyes draw away from M'noq and focus on that amber liquid in the glass. "My duties are so seperate sometimes from the wingriders that it's almost like there's a disconnect for me. I don't know them as well I should." There's a small huff and she knocks back the rest of her glass before pushing it forward and wiggling her fingers at the bartender for a refill. "T'ral's a good man. But yes, I suppose it is a lot of moving pieces. One goes astray and the rest…" A shoulder lifts and falls. "Sometimes it just goes badly."

M'noq hums thoughtfully. "I didn't hear much about him either, except how awful it was. You could ask around in his wing, or see if he had a weyrmate or family." Sorry, that might make it worse. "None of us know all the riders in the Weyr. I wonder if even the Weyrlingmaster does." When the bartender brings Clementine's second round, M'noq asks for a mug of hot klah. With this conversation, he probably isn't going to sleep well tonight anyway. "T'ral depends on us all to know our parts. It's for our own safety, as well as everyone else's. He's doing this thing now with outriders in our wing. It's supposed to keep us in formation better, and the most agile dragons do clean-up."

"Hmm." That comes thoughtfully as her second round comes and she hesitates on taking the next drink. "I could do that. I seem to be sending a lot of condolences out lately." If everyone could just stop dying, that would be really awesome. Clementine would greatly appreciate that. A small round of laughter escapes her, "T'zaim is friendly, but I don't know that he's that friendly." Now she tips the glass back, slowly letting her gaze shift back onto M'noq. "It sounds like he keeps you all very busy. He wouldn't be doing his job if he wasn't, right? We're lucky that the weyr at large has some very talented wingleaders."

M'noq shakes his head. He really hadn't thought much about a weyrwoman's job having to send out condolences, but it's probably to be expected. "T'zaim? No. Definitely not." There's an edge of scorn in his voice; M'noq's still harboring a grudge from weyrlinghood, mostly because when he tried to squash it, the other man ended up setting it in concrete. Maybe that's the job of a Weyrlingmaster? Well done, in that case. "Right, we stay busy. Busier after any loss, trying to keep it from happening again. It's frustrating for me, I don't know how he manages it."

Clementine isn't really aware of the backstory between M'noq and T'zaim, so she can only manage to not look completely confused by that scorn. She furrows her eyebrows but doesn't ask about it. "What? The part where he's busier after every loss? It's probably some kind of grief mechanism. Everyone handles it differently. Some people drink." Case in point, the goldrider lifts her drink again and takes a healthy swallow. She rolls the bottom of her glass against the counter. "What else do you have going on, besides T'ral?"

M'noq tries to put his cool veneer back on. Sure, Clementine used to be his weyrmate, but it wasn't like she was his weyrmate. "Oh, you know. Just being able to pick up again and try to keep everyone safe, when you know you won't be able to succeed. No matter how hard you work, you won't be able to be perfect, and it only takes that single slip-up." Right, it bothers him. He takes a gulp of klah, which has cooled enough by now to be managable. "What else? Well, Ravaith and I are mapping the coast of the Southern Continent. Keelie and Gruffith are helping." You know, they're just flying around the entire continent. Like ya do.

"That's a lot. The stress can really start to affect some people." Clementine looks down at her whiskey and then over to his klah. "Are you sure that you don't want to switch drinks?" It's said with a friendly laugh. Because sometimes if you don't laugh at the seriousness of life, you end up losing your mind entirely. She shifts uncomfortably in the chair, the length of her time in this one spot finally getting to her. "That sounds involved. I was never big into what is that called? Cartography? It takes a much more precise eye than I have." She admits to that failing easily enough, still slowly nursing her glass.

M'noq looks over at Clementine's drink and laughs. "No thanks. I don't drink alcohol. Just decided it was better that way." You know, because of family reasons. "Cartography isn't really my thing either, but Ravaith is big into it. From the time he was little, he wanted just to take off along the beach and keep going. I told him we could. The maps were an add-on, and then T'ral wanted them for a project." If it's a super secret project, she has probably either heard of it or she hasn't. He notices she's starting to look a little uncomfortable on these hard bar stools. "You doing all right? I could walk you back, if you want." Since it's getting late by now, and one can't leave a goldrider to hobble around in the dark alone.

"Ah, right. Just thought I'd offer." Clementine's alcohol tolerance is high enough that she can knock the rest of that back without worrying about faceplanting later on. She reaches into her jacket and slips some marks across the bar to take care of her drinks. "I think I've reached my limit of sitting here. Could you walk me to the barracks instead? I've got something I want to make T'zaim feel vaguely guilty about. I might get a sandwich out of it." Nevermind that she could just buy her own sandwich or that he might even do it without the guilting. "You can tell me some more about your cartography adventures along the way. I bet if you've seen some interesting things?" So if he's amicable to this, they can stroll (she'll hobble a bit, it's fine, totally fine) until they part ways again.

"Hmm, good luck with making T'zaim feel guilty," M'noq remarks coolly. He won't follow her in to visit T'zaim, but he feels better knowing she'll get back safely, if he's escorting her. "It would be worth it if you could get a sandwich out of it, though." Sandwiches are always better if someone else makes them. "Sure, let me tell you some of the things we found. There are a lot of holes in our maps, though, areas supposed to be followed up on later. I've got copies of the maps, too, if you want to check them out sometime." The bartender waves off payment for the klah (maybe he feels a little guilty about emtpying M'noq's pockets earlier), and the two riders head out into the night.

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