lachai_tea

Who: L'hai and Ch'son
Where: The Lucky Seven, Ista Weyr
What: One bronzerider approaches the other over their new working relationship. Neither is very happy about it.



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The Lucky Seven, Ista Weyr

The main, double doors that lead in to the tavern are, as a rule, left open, leading into the wide main room of the tavern. Directly across from the entrance, stretched across the long back wall, stands the focus of the room, indeed the entire building; the bar is made of a deep, red-brown wood and polished to a heady shine and behind it shelves stand with rows of clean glasses and tankards of all sizes and shapes. To the left of the bar is a staircase that allows access to a mundane upper story, a single hall lined with modest rooms for rent, and to the right is an arched doorway leading to a darker gaming room. But most of the action happens out in the middle, in among the haphazardly arranged tables and their allotted chairs. Though there are a few feminine touches draped around, a sage green curtain here or a coral red tablecloth there, when the tall room is filled with people there is no mistaking the testosterone-driven atmosphere of the place.

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It's late. But that's not unusual as far as Ch'son is concerned. He's often out here at the Seven as late as he can manage. Sometimes all the night through if Taineth is too worried that he might oversleep the next morning. Tonight he's had a couple drinks and he's presumably even won a game or two because he's in very good spirits as he speaks with some very friendly girl that's letting him put his hands wherever he pleases. Which would just be her hips at the moment since she's sitting in his lap.

Wasn't there just a discussion about L'hai and bars? Either way, he steps inside this one with a purposefulness that has nothing to do with the drinks or services offered. Combing at his hair a bit nervously because of this prospect, the rider glances about the population already quite into their entertainment, seeing how late it is. A few steps around tables playing games and there's the flash of someone familiar he was looking for. He steps up to Ch'son firmly enough, but the awkwardness is clear when having to tap the shoulder of the other man obviously enjoying his current position -- or the lady's current position, specifically. "Excuse me," he says, just over the din, "A word?"

"Fina-- oh." What started off as a rather enthusiastic response to the tap on his shoulder cuts off with some surprise when Ch'son actually turns his head to see that it's not who he thought it was going to be. Likely L'hai is the very last person he expected to be here, let alone trying to get his attention. It takes him a few moments to put that all together and then he nods without moving at all. Come on, the girl is giggling and probably had a few drinks of her own. "What's up?"

L'hai offers a pleasant but somewhat thin-lipped smile for the girl on the lap. Then, he turns directly back to his fellow rider with all seriousness. "Sorry," he expresses without quite the apology in it, his voice tinged with the same uppity stiffness that causes him to give the rest of the room the cold shoulder. "More than one word. Several sentences. And not here." Another allowing expression is offered to the girl; it's not you, it's just a more delicate situation.

When what the other bronzerider is saying finds its way through Ch'son's thick skull, he frowns. Not cool, man. He starts looking like he might refuse altogether but after a moment or four of thought, Chaes' jaw sets and he smacks the girl on the hip for her to get up so he can do the same. He's admirably steady on his feet, at least for anyone that would admire such things, and he waves reluctantly for L'hai to lead on elsewhere. "This better be good. Like y'knocked Nenita up or somethin' so I can kick your ass."

He is only too happy to oblige on leading away from the rowdy tables. L'hai would very much like to conclude this and let them both get back to their surely opposite-themed evenings. So he starts at a pretty steady pace, voicing "Nenita--" before he's interrupted by Ch'son's own prediction. "-- is not knocked up!" The rider concludes, on a slightly higher pitch. His under the breath mutter of, "Which is a terrible way to put it anyway..." preludes his stroll out into the night air. There's a very deliberate glance around to see if anyone else is out, but it's not the time for entering taverns - it's the time for being in them for some time already - so the coast seems clear. Assured, at least enough, he rounds on Ch'son. "But she //would// like us to, ah, collaborate. Which you can hopefully achieve without said kicking of my ass." He's not going to protest that it could happen.

All the same, Ch'son is looking at L'hai rather suspiciously when they end up outside with no one else around. Whatever his thought process on the likelihood of the other sleeping with the goldrider is cut short by what's continued with. Another frown and Ch'son's eyes squint as though he's not entirely sure he heard that right. "Collbroa-- whatever on what?" It's hard to tell if he's playing dense for the sake of secrecy or if he's just being genuinely dense.

Huffing out a loud breath, L'hai pauses to do a bit of thinking. Perhaps he's trying to dig through his brain for a simpler way to phrase things. Finally, he holds out both hands in gesture and opts on, "Work together. On your current dealings with the men she's asked you to talk with. Or you've decided to talk to, I don't know. Either way, I'm supposed to be there for the next meeting." He straightens a bit, squaring out those shoulders that have been described as 'nice', in order to give slightly more authority to his statement instead of question.

"What?" is his first rather sobered reaction to that. Well, sort of. Some of irritation behind his voice is likely not helped by the drinks he's had. "You?" Ch'son adds with a rather firm gesture of his hand to the other bronzerider. "Out of all the people in this shardin' Weyr... /You?/" Those familiar with Ch'son's tendency to start using his fists when he's not happy might notice the way he's clenching his hands. But maybe those visits to the mindhealer did him some good because he takes a deep breath and a few moments and then he asks, "Why? What do I need you for?"

L'hai is expecting some of this response, and he at first glances away to let the bronzerider get through the necessary disbelieving one-word questions. The gesture from the other brings his attention back, though, and when his gaze flitters to those forming fists, he shifts his weight backwards -- unthreatening, body turned just slightly to duck to whatever side seems to move first. But the following moments are a little more encouraging. L'hai lets out his own unacknowledged held breath. "You don't," he states clearly and without judgment, "This is purely an, ah, an experimental measure for-- look, Nenita asked. I won't even open my mouth. I'm just supposed to watch and take note."

It doesn't really seem to make Ch'son feel any better about the idea of L'hai of all people coming along to visit men like the ones he's been dealing with. That much is clear on his face. "The fuck didn't she tell me she was gonna be throwin' experiments at me?" He lifts a hand again to point almost accusingly at the other bronzerider. "That's all you better do." Right, cause he just said that much. "I'll break your shardin' face if you go messin' this up." He grunts a sound that's half angry and half disgusted but Chaes just ends up shaking his head and waves a dismissive hand at L'hai as he asks, "That it?"

Both hands go up defensively in front of L'hai, absolving guilt as well as defending against the stabbing point. The hands spread wide and accepting, a silent agreement that this is certainly all he will do. He doesn't even open his mouth now, only glancing at his feet and battling between anxiety and irritation at the follow-up threat. A constant gnawing at his lower lip helps keep either expression from being too readable. After that, he raises his head contemplatively, looking off towards some unstated landmark to think. A couple of seconds pass. Then, "If you give your word to actually tell me when the meeting's happening... that's it."

It's probably amusing on some level that Ch'son thinks himself, his impulsive and hot-headed self, perfectly capable of dealing with the men that they're dealing with but not L'hai. On his side, he doesn't seem to be particularly worried about the other rider standing up for himself, not relaxed but definitely not on any sort of actual defensive. "Taineth'll pass word along." With that, Ch'son turns away to head back inside to find his lap warmer again.

On the other hand, L'hai is more than positive he is not, in fact, capable of any such thing-- but he's committed now, so there it is. The two might actually have similar ideas on the matter, if they compared. But they don't. And L'hai puts up no barriers when it comes to letting the other rider return to his sport. He only watches it happen, mouth flattened into a neutral line. It's not until the merriment has clearly been reinstated that he turns on his heel and lets those shoulders sag back down in bad posture, "... I'm so dead."