Who Aignes, Kezresan
What Drinks and Trade Negotiations — no one gets stabbed!
When Winter - Month 13 of Turn 2717
Where Fort Weyr - Shenanigan's Lounge

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Fort Weyr - Shenanigan's Lounge
The natural walls of this cavern haven been completely covered and replaced by straight and sometimes curving walls of brickwork. There's method to the madness of covering stone with stone. It's as simple as the electric buzz in the room. New grade electric lights dot the fancy brick worked walls, with wires cleverly hidden behind, allowing more focus to be centered on the rest of the room rather than the numerous strings of wire needed to operate the lighting. Each bulb roosts in a bronzed metal flowering fixture, giving the room a rich atmosphere. Still, the walls are not the only place which has stone on stone appeal. The floor has been run smooth, the surface now slate rock, creating an imperial cast.

Beyond the actual foundations of the lounge, the luxury continues. High backed wooden chairs with padded white seats have been stationed all around the room. Between the individual chairs are benches fashioned out of the same rich wood with pillows made to flatter the cushions. There are low lying coffee tables or end tables near the individual chairs, while there's larger dinning room sized tables with chairs to match scattered as well, giving much variety to those who find themselves in the room. Decorative hangings and framed artwork has been neatly hung around the room, but to offset the meticulous method of the room, there's some pieces that give a sporty feeling to the room - such as a fishing rod or a snow shoe.

Of course, the final appeal of the room comes in the form of it's purpose; athletic competition. There are several games of darts lining the walls, various decks of dragon poker cards available, a large velvet lined pool table centered to one side of the lounge, a mat area surrounded by ropes, and an area that keeps track of all the runner races around the world via radio signal, giving constant updates on the status of the runners. Lastly, there's a bar here, small and built with brick as well. There's usually a bartender on duty willing to mix drinks during the evening hours.


Day is done and gone the sun, but luckily the lights are still on in the lounge. Since the weather is still appropriately wintery and miserable outside, things have gotten a bit crowded in this little corner of the Weyr. The dragonpoker tables are filled and there's a pair of folks attempting to play darts and only succeeding in the fact that they're not stabbing each other or anyone else yet. Aignes is currently doing her best to ignore all the commotion, tucked up at one of the tables closest to the hearth, a book in one hand and a glass of a dark red wine in the other.

Of course the lights are on in the lounge! But hopefully not too bright, right? Stave off those hangover-headaches. But curing hangovers is not why Kezresan is here, despite the scrub-like attire that he still wears. And breaking up potential dart-stabbings is also not on his agenda (which is probably why he's looking anywhere but at the potential murder-scene). Nope. Straight to the bar, only to find that sucker overcrowded to begin with. Snort. Huff. Grump. But Kez gets his glass of something regardless and, wrestling his way to freedom, stalks over to his favorite corner of the bar only to find it occupied by none other than, "Aignes?" A frown. A dart of his eyes from book, to wine, to weaver. "You're not… weaving." How astute, captain obvious. His own drink? Something dark, and in a tall mug. Probably ale.

Surprisingly, there is very little if any dust stirred up as Aignes turns the page. Someone else must have read it at some point, despite some very boring title about something regarding trading relations between Crom and High Reaches. As she hears foot steps draw nearer, she slips a bookmark out to mark her page, although she doesn't actually look up until her name is called and then she blinks as she adjusts from looking down to now looking at the healer. "Kezresan." Since they're naming names. "I'm not. And you're not healing?" There is a slight wince as one of those darts flies well away from the dart board and bounces off the stone. "Yet."

"I'm not." Not yet. Not at all, if he can help it. Because if Kezresan doesn't see those darts hit people, he doesn't have to do anything about it, right? Hippocratic oath or NO Hippocratic oath… "They kicked me out." And he's being seriously about that. He's also stealing a chair at Aignes' table without being asked, because he's an unconscious jerk like that. "Trade relations?" Squint. Frown. "Alright then."

Aignes gives a curt little nod when he confirms he's not here on duty (which is probably a good thing considering the glass of something more than likely alcoholic), and also sends a scowl towards the lad having to run and fetch his wayward projectile, but the scowling doesn't seem to phase him. "I thought healers normally had shifts?" The bookmark is nudged further in the book and carefully closed and she nods for the topic. "Trade relations. They're fun." not the word most would chose, but she did.

Definitely alcoholic. And well on its way to being drunk. Two swallows are taken between the time Kezresan speaks and Aignes answers, and Kezresan has to speak again. "We do," have shifts.. "Mine was dawn to dusk. And I go back at dawn again. They frown when I try to work through the overnight as well." Shrug. "It's fine." It's probably fine. Another gulp or two and, while he might not scoff at the idea of trade being /fun/, he certainly doesn't look convinced. "Fun? Seems like it would be messy," he decides. "Each side trying to swindle the other. Do those deals ever last?" He doesn't know. Does he care? Maybe.

Aignes might not be a nurse, but she's definitely nursing her own drink. The red wine has barely been touched. She smiles just a touch as he mentions others frowning at overwork. "It's kind of hard to lecture folks about the importance of sleep while nodding off yourself?" And eventually she does take a tiny sip of her own drink. At this rate, it might last like five days. She shrugs for the question. "Not really. There's always a new deal to renegotiate. Occassional deals can be worked out where both sides equally benefit… but they seem to last the shortest."

"Mph." Clearly. Kez takes a very 'do as I say' approach to lectures, though he does add a somewhat defensive, "I don't nod off. I'm perfectly alert." And now he's perfectly relaxed (lies) and has no qualms about making sure his drink doesn't last the hour. A shrug of his shoulder and a squint toward the dart-game, as though daring fate to draw him into action. Of trade deals and negotiations, he offers a bit of a snort and decides, "My mother once said that if both sides walked away pissed off, it was likely a fair deal. At least they're renegotiating rather than slicing each other's throats?"

Dubious Aignes is very dubious at those claims as she stares over at Kez. It'd be a lot more effective if she had glasses or something to peer over, but she's doing the best she can. "Uuuuhhhh-huh. And how many mugs of klah was required for that alertness?" SHE'S ONTO YOU. She smiles (an actual smile) and shakes her head at the last. "That was volume two." The whole throat slicing bit. "This is volume four." And she's still reading, except for now, when since she's talking instead and making a pretense at drinking a glass of wine.

And in the face of such knowledge — of Klah habits and potential standing-naps — Kez does what any sensible man will do. He ignores it and changes the subject. "Volume two?" because even /actual smiles/ do not startle him enough to lose track of that thought. "There are volumes on this? Is it like a series?" Clearly, he's never invested the time and energy to read up on trade deals negotiations. But there's still suspicion in his gaze, and he watches Aignes very closely, squinting at her from over the rim of his rapidly-emptying mug. "Are you teasing me?" he wonders.

"Yes?" Aignes is quite honest about this and definitely not joking. Who would joke about volumes of trade relations? She even turns the volume so that the little IV is visible next to the subtitle. "Why would I tease you about that?" And well, that wine is being drunk a lot quicker now that she's not staring at a book. Also, it's like reflex that see a drink, take a drink thing.

Kezresan leans in to take a closer look, squinting against dim light and nearsightedness both. "Huh." Because there it is, that little number. "I don't know," he admits, settling back in his chair with his almost-finished mug. "But I have found that it is best to ask, if I am not sure." Honest, that. A final tip of his mug and he's /done/! But his prize for such a thing is to haul himself to his feet, stare at the bar and its massive crowd, and decide, "Well. Guess I'm finished. You can have the table," he declares, oh so graciously considering she was here first. "Enjoy your trade negotiations," and he actually means it, too, "and your wine."

Aignes wrinkles up her face in a bit of confusion as she remembers she was there first, but she shrugs. "Thanks, I guess?" What does one say when you get back something that was always your's? But the weaver gives a wave of farewell and then, well, it's back to reading until either the book is finished or the drink is. No telling which will come first!


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