Free Drinks and Flirtations
The Fernwood pub is pretty busy tonight, there's no music, but there doesn't need to be. Just respite from the cold is enough to draw people in even at this late hour. Or maybe something about the evening has folks loathe to head home out into the winter night. One man has managed to procure a fairly large table near the fire all to himself. He wears a perpetual scowl on his face as he drinks down pint after pint as if trying to drown his woes.
He looks to be Stormguardian by heritage, silver-gray eyes glittering in the dim lighting and dark hair falling into his eyes as he gets gradually drunker. A few folks have tried approaching his table, but a short glare seems to be enough to chase them off, and so he drinks alone.
It was off hours and Sloan was free. Finding his way into the Fernwood pub, the Aesir man dressed in a pair of well tailored woolen pants, soft soled waterproofed leather boots, and a white tunic with a Grey Woolen cloak. The quality of the clothing mixed with the complete lack of adornment peg him as a servant. Taking a moment after stepping inside the door, the dark haired, blue eyed man quietly and neatly folds his cloak, tucking it under an arm before moving towards the bar itself in search of a drink.
Two half-elves find their way into the Fernwood Pub, with the short woman clinging to the arm of the platinum-blond man that's by her side. She wears long robes and a cloak that's sensible for the winter evening, but the hood's fallen off at some point, and snowflakes have found their way into her dark waves of hair. "Dinner was lovely, Tel," Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon says, looking up at him with twinkling violet eyes. "Just a little drink before we head..."
Her words trail off as her eyes sweep the environment and fall onto the dark-haired Stormguardian man at the table closest to the fire. She winces. "Of all of the pubs in Alexandria," she says with a small sigh.
A tsuran sits at one of the tables, the brightly-colored regalia they're so known for nowhere to be seen. Wearing a silken robe, off-white with complex bright-blue vine patterns, he sits relaxed in a chair, a mug of ale in front of him as he absently plays with a coin on the table, engaged in friendly conversation with his companion across the way. Until, of course, the woman that just came in makes a face, and a comment, about the lone man drinking. Leaning over, he whispers something to the other person at the table, the mischievous smile on his face growing a bit at whatever is exchanged between them.
"I figured you were tired of fish," the other half-elf says with a smile to his partner, his dark eyes glittering as he reaches up to brush the snowflakes out of his lady's hair. Telamon is dressed in a black brocade tunic, over heavy woolen trousers and his sensible boots with a fur cloak wrapped around him. "Our houseguest is definitely particular."
When Lana trails off, his gaze follows hers as if they are one, and then his eyes narrow... the genial, cheerful expression freezing a bit on his face.
The Tsuran's companion is a towheaded man with bright blue eyes, and it is _he_ who wears the colorful scarves and loose clothing the Tsurans are so known for - and never mind the chill! The cold outside seems to bother him not at all. A boyish grin is his response to his companion as he sets down his own mug, and a lean forward to whisper back. The grin does go ragged around the edges as he looks at the man, but he turns his attention back to his companion, whispering back.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+4: (13)+4: 17
The stormguardian man waves the bartender over for another drink, and misses the entry of the couple as he does so. The bartender takes Sloan's order first, which seems to irritate the stormguardain who rises laboriously to his feet, swaying a little bit and lifting his hand higher for a drink. The bartender wraps up with Sloan, and makes his way over to the stormguardian with another pint already in hand, eager to pacify him clearly. The larger man takes the beer from the smaller bartender with a little jerk and downs half the pint. "Bring me another."
Placing coin on the bar as his drink is served, Sloan nods stiffly and slips a couple of extra copper to the bartender as he speaks softly. "It would seem my good sir, that you are destined to earn these coins this evening." He doesn't turn his attention to the large Stormguardian as he takes his ale and a smaller glass of dark, amber liquid. Instead, the Aesir man turns his attention to find a table, and failing at first to locate one.
The tsuran at the table raises an eyebrow at the antics of the Stormgaardian man, though his attention is still firmly focused on the two half-elves that came in. Apparently, they're more the curiosity than a man demanding attention out of turn at a bar. Still, he slowly slides his glance over to Sloan, leaning back in his chair and looking for all the world like someone about to enjoy one of the street performances in the theater district, glancing over at his brightly-colored companion and offering a small nod at something unspoken between them.
Cor'lana looks at Telamon for a moment. She looks in the direction of the Tsuran man and his companion, and it's in the direction of the companion in particular that her eyes linger. The violet eyes glance to her side at Telamon for a moment, before she nods and approaches the table with the two men.
"Hello," she says softly, taking a seat. "Mind company?" There's a certain edge to her voice that suggests there's a bit more to that request, a mild hint of wariness in her violet eyes. Her gaze rests on the brightly-colored companion for another moment.
Telamon walks at Cor'lana's side, and he tilts his head slightly at her for a moment, eyes moving to the table with the two men seated at it. His lips curl up in a faint smile, and he nods. "Indeed, it's a cold and lonely evening. Best to share it with good company." He pulls out a chair for Lana, so she can sit down, before taking his own place next to her.
Tel gestures politely to the bartender, "Mulled wine, sir." He spins a couple coins on the table deftly, before looking to the Tsuran and his companion. "I'll be happy to buy a round for you, if you like."
The towheaded man merely inclines his head - and winks at her, although with a glance at his companion and raised eyebrows as if to inquire whether the other minds. "As you will, my lady." There is no attempt to disguise the voice, at least not for that line. Another glance is cast to the belligerent Stormgardian, but he does not interfere - for now.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+24: (17)+24: 41
The bartender hesitates. There's a moment of tension there before he finally coughs and speaks up. "I think you've had enough sir."
Those that are watching but pretending not to go silent, leaving the room largely quiet as people look out of the corners of their eyes at the bartender and his patron who does _not_ look pleased. "I said, I'll have another." There's a dangerous edge to his tone, and he towers over the bartender. The bartender starts to say something and the man's hand reaches out, picking the poor man up and giving him a light little shake and setting him back down. "Another." He says again and the bartender nods dumbly, his legs shaking as he hurries his way back behind the bar.
Turning his attention towards the Stormguardian as he manhandles the Bartender, Sloan's features do little to betray his thoughts. Downing the smaller glass of amber liquid, he reaches out once the bartender has poured the ale for the large man and speaks quietly. "Allow me." tankard slipped from the bartender's hands before he can protest, Sloan makes his way towards the much larger customer.
"Always room for more" the tsuran agrees with his companion. "Provided the company is entertaining." There's a small cup of something pale yellow in front of him, stronger smelling than ale but the wrong color to be dwarven spirits. Glancing between the two newcomers before giving the angry Stormgaardian another glance, he mentions, "It seems everyone is in the mood for making friends tonight. Excuse me a moment," he starts, glancing over at his companion a moment before rising from his seat. He doesn't move -toward- the Stormgaardian, but clears his throat. "Excuse me, honorable sir," he starts -- in a strange, broken cadence that suggests he has absolutely no practice speaking this way -- "but I feel it my burden of honor to inform you that the path you're currently on runs the risk of breaking the dispenser of drinks, which runs counter to your desired goal. Perhaps, the gods willing, you could be moved to return to your seat and --" A brief pause here... "something something path of righteousness."
Returning to his seat, the tsuran in the white robes looks to his companion, spreading his hands a little in a 'well, I tried' gesture.
Cor'lana looks greatly relieved by the voice of the man with brightly-colored clothes, and she offers him a wink back in return, but that relief is very short-lived once the Stormguardian starts being... grabby. Her face turns into a scowl.
And then there's the Tsuran's lecture. She freezes a little in place. Does not dare turn around to see how that speech has affected the larger man. But she does glance at Telamon, something unspoken passing with her gaze.
Telamon glances back over his shoulder, his expression tightening at the large man's posturing and threats. His gaze flicks back to Cor'lana, and his palms flatten against the table. There's something hard in his eyes, but he takes a deep breath, and watches the Tsuran try diplomacy. And... yeah.
"Gods and stars, man, maybe I could give you pointers in that sort of thing." Tel says sotto voce. He looks torn between being appalled, and laughing.
The towheaded man has at least the grace to look embarrassed as his companion addresses the drunken man, but amid the lowered eyes, his lips are twitching in a clear attempt to avoid laughing. "He twits me," he tells Telamon in low tones, but his attention goes to the man watching for a response.
The stormguardian man seems at first satisfied, but then... he IS getting what he wants, which is more to drink. He even grins when he sees Sloan heading to his table with the beer and then... The tsuran man is speaking up and his face goes from pleased to pissed in the matter of a few seconds. "Who the fuck do you think you are then? Telling me what to do?" He drinks down his ale and slams it on the table. The cup is empty and cracks under the strength of his mighty anger. "Yea, you better just sit back down with your..."
He stops suddenly and eyes the table. "Wait." He points to Cor'lana and stares - but not at her face. "You're that woman!"
Standing next to the Stormguardian as he is, Sloan looks more than a little unimpressive. Still holding his own ale in his hand, he motions to the bartender with his mug as he mouths "another, fortified?" not really vocalized. As the stormguardian begins yelling at others, The Aesir man moves around to the table and motions to a seat. "Perhaps I could join you Sir Stormguardian? I admit I am intrigued by what it is that you do...and perhaps, you will be able to continue the evening un-harassed."
Malik raises an eyebrow at the Stormgaardian, looking largely unperturbed. "Malik Padaryn," he introduces himself, doing the barest of bows of his head without rising from his chair again. This time, his tone is a bit cooler. Turning his attention back to the tow-headed companion looking embarrassed, there's a heartbeat worth of confusion on the man's face, followed by the universal eyeroll of 'oh please' as he picks up that strong liquor of his own, offering Telamon a wink. "It's not my typical go-to," he admits. Though by that time, the other man's attention has turned to the newcomer at their table. "'That woman', are you?" he asks. "That certainly narrows the field."
There's just two seconds where Cor'lana looks like a mouse caught in the corner with the cat. Her eyes flicker to Malik and to his companion, then to Telamon. Her hands twitch, like they're about to start forming a spell. But... then there's the dawning of realization in her violet eyes as recognizes /where/, exactly, Zalgiman is looking. Not her eyes. Lower. And... he's drunk, and she's panicking, and that's a great recipe for what's about to happen.
So she puffs her chest out. (She needs it, compared to who she's trying to imitate.) She leans a little lower, and she toys with the neckline of her dress. And to complete this, she adopts a huskier, lower tone, distinctly different from her normal speaking voice. "Aww, did you miss me?" she asks. Winking. "It was a nice little date we had at that little inn by the Felwood. You stood me up at the restaurant date I wanted to have, though." Cor'lana pouts a little.
Telamon can't help but tense up again when the drunken Stormgardian recognizes Lana. Or maybe, recognizes her, ahem, attributes? His fingers curl in a subtle way again, much the same as Lana's -- in fact, almost mirroring her posture. But he keeps his eyes on the drunk man, offering Malik the briefest of nods, his gaze never leaving Zalgiman. But there's no panic in his eyes. Just icy resolve.
The stormguardian gives Cor'lana a rather sturdy look, but he can't seem to determine what he's seeing. "Ahh... Maybe... Another drink would be a good idea." He says sitting down and motioning for Sloan to join him. "I thought she was the woman that stole my good-luck charm, but she might be a woman who flirted with me a few months ago... Maybe she'll come over and make this a half-way decent night, what do you think friend?"
He's talking to Solan of course, taking the second mug as the barkeep comes around with the 'fortified' one that Sloan had asked for. "Been one hell of a week. I'm Zalgiman by the way." He offers his hand to Sloan but keeps one weather eye on Cor'lana with some hope in his gaze.
Slipping the fortified ,mug towards Zalgiman as it is placed on the table, Sloan takes the much larger man's hand in his own linen gloved one and shakes firmly. "Sloan. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. That Ale is fortified, might be more to your liking." Apparently Sloan's plan involved getting the man drunk enough to pass out. Turning to look at those gathered at the other table and at Cor'lana for a moment, the Aesir turns his attention back to the Stormguardian. "A very handsome lady indeed, but I fear a little too...attached? For my own preference? Possibly for her paramour's preference as well."
"Paramour?" Cor'lana laughs. "No, no, not a paramour. This is my darling daughter's husband! I treat him like my own son!" Her hand goes to Telamon's shoulder in an affectionate gesture. Thankfully, her gloves cover the curuchuil mark on her left hand that'd normally announce her rather clearly as Telamon's wife.
Of course she gives Zalgiman a bat of the eyelashes. "I'm so sorry, honey, I'd really love to come over and entertain both of us, but I have to bring my baby girl's boy back home safe and sound. We just stopped in to get out of the cold.”
To his credit, Telamon manages to keep from letting his expression say 'What the actual--' though with Zalgiman as drunk as he is, he probably wouldn't notice anyways. His eyes dart to Sloan, before he coughs lightly, as the mulled wine finally arrives. "Remember, 'mother', one glass only before we go. I know you do so enjoy playing, but it IS getting late. And the city's full of toothsome young lads." He even keeps a straight face saying all of this.
Malik leans over to Telamon, muttering, "I think I read a Crimson Pen story that started like this once."
Zalgiman takes the fortified drink with a grin for Sloan. "You're a swell fellow." He doesn't seem to mind the thought that this drink will be stronger than those that came before it. "See, she's not taken. She's just... A mom?" He laughs and then cackles.
"I'll catch you sometime lady. I'll buy you a nice dinner yea?" He grins and looks at Sloan. "What about you my friend? You got a lady? Family?"
At Cor'lana's words, Sloan looks back to her and nods. "Apologies madam. It was rude of me to make the assumption." Looking back to Zalgiman, the Aesir takes a drink of his own ale. "No to both unfortunately. I work in service to the family of Lord Halston at the moment. I serve as valet to his son. Less prestigious I think than your own profession."
"I know, hard to believe, but I am," Cor'lana replies to Zalgiman with another wink. "What can I say--I age like a /fine/ bottle of wine. Don't you worry though, honey--my baby's father hasn't been in the picture for years. He wouldn't have been much competition for you anyway, big and handsome. We /should/ have dinner sometime." Okay, that's laying it on thick, but Zalgiman seems to be buying what she's selling.
She pats Telamon's shoulder again. "Ohhh, shoot, you're really trying to keep me out of trouble, aren't you? Fine, fine. Just one glass." She laughs it off, of course.
"Well, someone has to, mother," Telamon deadpans. He takes up his glass of wine, regarding Zalgiman. "Indeed, I think you gleefully distract all the young men in Alexandria." There's a twinkle in his eye -- he's teasing Lana. Just a little bit. At Sloan's introduction, his eyebrows rise. "How is Lord Halston, anyways? I'd heard he'd come down with gout -- hopefully he's on the mend." The glance is brief, though; it's clear Tel is keeping close watch on Zalgiman.
Zalgiman almost seems to sober up a bit as Sloan talks and he puts on a friendly grin. "I wasn't always so gainfully employed. I grew up barely surviving the winters but now I've got my own alcohol brewery business. And it pays NICE. You know I'm looking for men. Hard workers who want to go somewhere in life. If you get tired of serving some other man..."
He colors a little at Cor'lana's comments, and it's not all the drink. Though that is clearly getting to him. "Is that so? Let your son-in-law go home alone lady. I'll show you a good time. He's a big boy." He flexes at her. Showing off his muscles and flashing her his teeth.
"Looking for women, looking for men... our friend seems none too particular. Perhaps a touch desperate." Malik finishes off his own cup, shaking his head. "Tarien's great swaying balls, but that one is dense," he mutters low enough for Telamon to hear without it carrying. "He owns a brewery and spends good copper in a bar?" A small shake of his head. "Perhaps we should rescue your, er. Mother. And Lord Halston's manservant." The tow-headed man with Malik gives a nod, getting up and heading to the door. "And we can leave our fine gentleman friend to find his pleasures with different company."
Cor'lana bats her eyelashes here again at Zalgiman, giggling in a coquette's manner. "Aren't you delicious," she croons. "Oh, I'd love nothing more. But my daughter will worry about me if I'm out all night tonight--and I know you'd want me /all night/."
She stands up, giving a prompting nudge in the arm to Telamon to stand up with her. "Let's not keep my baby girl waiting," she says, and then she blows a kiss to Zalgiman. "Don't forget about little old me, okay?" Her arm goes around Telamon's as a signal to escort her out.
Telamon doesn't react verbally to Malik's comment, but there's a set of his head that implies he didn't miss it -- and a calculating expression flickers across his face before it settles back into that placid state. After he finishes his wine, he smiles at Lana. "Of course, mother. We shouldn't keep my wife waiting, after all." Gallantly, he lets her take his arm, languidly waving to the others -- save Zalgiman, of course -- as he ambles towards the door.
His head tilts ever so slightly, and he glances back over his shoulder. Only for a moment, though.
Malik grimaces a little as the man's attention seems to turn to the servant. Standing, he moves over to where Sloan is sitting, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Forgive me sir," he starts, putting a gentle-yet-firm pressure on Sloan's shoulder in the universal sign of 'step right this way sir'. "But I seem to be lost, and it's my understanding that you're a servant of the very lord I'm attempting to find." A glance at Zal, mock-apologetically. "Protocol. I'm sure you understand. One simply *cannot* appear at the house of a lord without an escort of the household. It would be downright scandalous, you understand."
Sloan gets a look that says 'just go with it' as Malik attempts to lead him to the door. Calling back to the bartender, he says, "Drinks are on me for the next ten minutes. Send me an invoice," looking around to see if it gets the raucous approval and rush to the bar he was hoping to achieve.
Which it does, and in the rush everyone is able to slip out. Heck. Even Zalgiman is looking for his free drinks!
Nodding quietly as Malik speaks to him, Sloan stands and dons his grey woolen cloak once more. "But of course sir. I shall attend presently." Offering a stiff half bow to Zalgiman just before the big man heads for the bar, Sloan heads out with the rest. "I appreciate your assistance in that matter."
-End