Who Q'll, R'vel
What Q'll mistakes R'vel for someone he isn't.
When Autumn, Turn 2711
Where Shenanigan's Lounge, Fort Weyr


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.

Autumn has set Fort Weyr on an increasingly cold path towards winter, and that means that the indoors, especially on a chilly night like tonight, are filled with people bringing their merry-making into the warmth of the caverns. Shenanigan's is bustling - there are weyrfolk singing and playing music around a table, the wrestling mat is being used as a dancefloor, and there are people just about everywhere, laughing, talking, enjoying themselves. Q'll is amongst them, though he would seem to be on his own where he leans up against the bar, a glass of pale ale in his hand. He's still in riding leathers, curly hair helmet-crushed and therefore a mess, and he's looking thoughtfully down at his drink rather than actually drinking it.

Heaving a great sigh as he pushes open the door to the bar, or was it a pull, eh it's no matter. The greenrider pushes his long blond hair out of his face with a uptilt of his chin and a sweep of slender fingers. Dressed in a pair of riding leathers in the purest of white, over them is a coat of the same color value lines in the finest of fur. Violet eyes flash along with throat as they pass over the those currently present and maybe, just maybe turns a few heads. R'vel couldn't blame them really, tall leggy blond walks into a bar? Seems like the start of some raunchy joke anyone might of heard once or twice in their lifetime. Not seeing whomever he was looking for, he makes for the main counter, sliding into a seat. "Proddy Greenrider please." he asks in a voice that was precariously close to female than male, but then again, this was a woman. Right? A tall, beautiful woman with lushious kissable lips and a boyishly yet curvy figure. Dat ass tho. The greenrider hadn't seemed to notice Q'll at all, tapping longish nails on the wooden bar surface impatiently.

Q'll is leaning. It's casual. Slightly disconnected. But then, a wild blonde appears. First he sidelooks, dark eyes as far over as they can be without him turning his head. Then he tilts his head slightly, giving the greenrider a once-over. He smiles if his look is noticed, nodding his head politely and lifting his ale glass to his lips to take a sip from it… while still looking. Down goes the glass, and he affects a more casual, yet cocky lean - if such things are possible. "Hello, gorgeous." Lean. Smoulder. Purse lips, toss hair. Q'll flashes his brightest smile, all dimples and everything, then fishes payment from his pocket for the greenrider's drink. He makes a show of paying, and tells the barkeep to keep the change. "You're not from Fort, are you?"

Violet eyes slide to the corner closest to where Q'll lingers, leaning against the counter as he was, giving him that smoulder. Tap. Tap. Tap. Now his drink and apparently all future drinks were now being payed for by Smoothy Smoothington the Third there. Tap. Tap. Tap. Right, decision made then. The greenrider turns his head and gives the bronzerider a dazzling smile all perfect straight white teeth and such things, tilting his head to the side which brings the boundless curls of his long hair to splay over the opposing shoulder. Yes, he was a knock out, wasn't he bronzerider boy? Take a nice long look, or rather go ahead and look some more. Drink it all in. Below, Rev crosses his long legs at the knee and turns a little on the stool for a more…welcoming…sort of body language. "Hello there." Eyes dart to his knot and then back up to Dimples McSmoothness there. "You're very astute," he says, and just for shits and giggles he goes ahead and throws in a little bit of his harper training as well. Why the hell not? "I'm orginally from Telgar, but I live in Ierne now." The bartender sets a mostly bright green beverage in a narrow stemmed yet widely mouthed glass, the surface of the liquid tinged by dark red color. The man is thanked, and then R'vel's attention returns to Q'll, "I'm R'vel, green Khysmeth's…and you are?" Sculpted brows lift upwards, slightly.

There is such brightness in Q'll's brown eyes when R'vel chooses to settle beside him. It's all going swell, because the smoulder always works! He raises his ale glass to the greenrider when he receives his drink, and is just taking a sip when… he chokes a little. "R'vel?" Quick recovery. "… R'…vel?" Emphasis on the honorific pause there. In other words… are you a dude, dude? "Not many women choose to elide their name in that way." Q'll is fishing. Hopeful, still, but there's no mistaking the fact that whatever glee he'd had at seeing such a pretty thing has suddenly dispersed - like air from a blown-up balloon.

"Hmmhm. R'….vel." Picking up his drink, the greenrider takes a sip of the contents, a chuckle causing his slender shoulders to bounce somewhat. He couldn't help but love that reaction, the curl of his lips taking on an almost evil twist before it vanishes completely with a toss of that lovely hair of his. "You're a rider," he says, pointing with a slim digit towards the knot on the bronzerider's shoulder, "How much choice did you have in your name? Khysmeth chose it, and so I use it." Oh, fish way as you like, whatever bait may be tossed out there into the see of knowledge is just not quite tempting enough to warrent even a nibble. Politely, he gets a napkin and slides it over across the counter, patting it gently. "You have a little something, there." That pointed finger is now tapped to one corner of his own mouth to indicate that earlier choking may have left some…residue.

"I guess I lucked out, Qhynn called me Quill, which was my name anyway." Q'll shrugs his broad shoulders, gaining interest once more now that it's… well, still vague, but he's more confident that such a pretty thing as R'vel has to be a woman. Right? Right. So he leans in towards her a little bit, jutting out his chin and taking the napkin so that he can hold it towards the greenrider, reversing the gesture. "Can't see without a mirror," which is the dumbest excuse ever. "… could you help?" He'll bat the eyelashes that surround his big doe-eyes, and he'll angle his lips into just enough of a smile so that his dimples flash - Q'll's not dumb. He knows how to play up his best features.

R'vel offers the bronzerider another pretty smile, "No elide then?" he asks, picking up his drink again and having another sip. "But I suppose that's no diffrent than a woman having one, I've known more than a few of both." Nope, still not giving anything away, even as brows lift upwards with the sheer boldness that Q'll was displaying there. The greenrider remains where he is seated, not moving away even as his personal space is threatened, no Rev was all calm and ease for now. After all, he hadn't been directly asked if was a man or a woman, and everything had been so delightfully vauge up to this point even if he knew perfectly well what he had been asked. For now, he'll continue to play as dumb as that 'can't see without a mirror' trick was. A rapid succession of lashes being fluttered later, and R'vel picks up the napkin he'd offered, and manages not to be awkward about patting gently at the corner of the man's mouth. Somehow. Yes, he saw the big brown eyes and the dimples. Oh, you're going to flash them anyway…okay then. Even as close as they had to be for this, there was zero indication that the greenrider had or ever possessed stubble. No, that creamly pale skin was smooth and flawless, save for the two moles above the right side of his lips, which had just the right tint of natural rosy hue to make them prominant amongst his features. "There you go."

Q'll isn't exactly subtle about checking for evidence up close. No stubble, no five o'clock shadow, nothing to give him cause to be alarmed. Instead, he lingers a good few moments after murmuring "Thanks," just so he can look more closely at the good-looking rider. "Quill is elided. Q-L-L. Quill. Sounds far better than the Q'lan or Q'an that it could've been." He pulls back, so that he can drink some more of his ale. "So. Telgar, now Ierne. What do you do down there?"

R'vel probably would have noticed even if Q'll was trying to be subtle, now that he had caught the greenrider's attention, lashes lowering over violet hued eyes in what some might considering an invitation as the bronzerider lingers but as to what, who knows. "Ah, I see. I was Revelle before Khysmeth found me, so there isn't much of a differance unless you stress the elide." he murmurs, softly. Even as the man draws back to drink ale, the look remains until he is asked a question, which breaks whatever spell might have been cast. Soft, beautifully musical laughter soon erupt, dropping his chin to the heel of his palm via an elbow now resting on the counter. "Offically? Harper Journeyman, I'm a soprano, so I sing." Unoffically? Not given, perhaps not without prompting.

A singer. Interesting. Q'll takes that information in, nodding his head. He brushes a hand through his wayward curls, sweping them back from his forehead and smiling, cheeks all dimpled up again. "Harper, nice. And what about your unofficial job?" Then he holds up a hand, asking for a pause. "Wait. Waaaait. Let me try and guess. Singer in one of those caberet clubs? No - you're a dancer and singer. One of those ones that take off layers as you perform? Waitaminute. You're a stripper. Aren't you?! I've seen you before in the Lusty Gold! Haven't I?"

The greenrider nods his head, curls sway and bounce with the movement. "That's right, singer." Picking up his drink with his other hand, he partakes, brows lifting as he swallows and opens his mouth to answer the posed question. However, as that hand goes up, lips snap closed and oh how that expression changes. Maybe a little insulted? That would be an excellent guess. "You know many stripper riders?" he asks, dryly. Who knows, maybe he does, but rapidly his interest in playing with Q'll was deflating. Hair is tossed over shoulder and he turns himself forward again, tapping the counter with one nail for a refill. "I broker in information. Intelligence. Good and Bad."

"There are some stripper riders in Ierne, and some who pretend to be riders while they're stripping… it's hard to tell the difference sometimes." Q'll shrugs his shoulders, and takes a sip of his ale. "I once saw a skit where they were pretending to be a greenrider and a brownrider caught up in a flight. They definitely weren't riders, no flight ever went like that." And yet his smirk says it was thoroughly enjoyable, whatever they were doing. "But you're not a stripper. Sorry. There's a girl who looks like you, though… but it's not you. You're a spy?"

Violet eyes slide to their corner closes to Q'll, but R'vel doesn't have much to say about stripper riders. Perhaps the greenrider had more respect for himself than all that, maybe he had stripper friends who played riders, or maybe he was just insulted at the mere implication. Who knows. He does smile though at mention of a greenrider and brownrider, tipping off the last of his old drink before the new on arrives. After all, these drinks were on the bronzerider's tab. He lets the apology and such pass without recognition, picking up his new drink but just looking at it for now, rather than imbiding. "Of a sorts. I listen for the most part. No one thinks to suspect the pretty girl."

Q'll's face lights up. "So you are a spy. Ah, shit, that's awesome - no-one would ever suspect you!" He angles his lean so he can get a proper good look at the greenrider's face, pursing his lips appreciatively. "Do you have to seduce people? To get into their pants and find out what they know? Or is that just something that happens in books? I read about it, once. There's this author who writes stories about a Harper rider who would infiltrate Renegade camps… so cool." J'mes and Bondth, no doubt. "He'd drink cocktails, too. Not Proddy Greenriders, though." He makes no protest about paying for the drink. "What's the best info you've gathered?"

There's another blink, R'vel now turning his face towards Q'll again. He had literally just said that, but he lets it pass with a soft placating smile. Brows lift in unison though as the bronzerider leans in to get a better look at his face, fluttering lashes a few times, before that musical laughter begins anew before he schools his expression. "Well…" he practically purrs, smile turning devilish as he slender fingers reach out and he tucks them into the front of the man's tunic, pulling him close, very close. Lashes lower, he tips his head to the side and brings his lips in just a breath away from his, "I. Just. Listen." Warm and sweet smelling, he chuckle low but still well within the feminine range, "But if I really want to know something, and I do mean really need it…I can be…persuasive." Then he just lets go and plucks up his refresh drink, lifting it to his lips. "And by persuasive, I mean break fingers…kneecaps, toes…" He thinks about it for a few more seconds, shrugs, and sips at the contents of the fancy glass. He lets Q'll prattle on about novels and fictional characters, tuning back in around the time he's asked about the best info he'd ever gathered. "I was looking for a man that didn't want to be found, a brownrider in fact, took me nearly a decade to track him down. He was definately the best info I ever gathered." A softer smile for this, and a fondness.

When he's pulled close, Q'll doesn't breathe. His eyes widen at first, then narrow as if about to close for a kiss - which never comes. There's a huff of disappointment when he lets out his breath once R'vel turns away, and he remains in the same spot for a double heartbeat more before clearing his throat and standing up straight. "So you're, uh, kind of a badass. That's cool. I dig it." The thought of broken bones have cooled him down a little bit, and he's happy to finish off his ale while listening and watching the greenrider. "Did you… did you break the brownrider?"

Like he said, no one suspects the pretty girl, espeically if that pretty girl isn't squismish about breaking bones to get what he needs. R'vel laughs again, taking a sip of his drink, and sets it back down on the counter. "Relax bronzerider, you're quite safe." For now, is implicated, but not verbally expressed. The next question also earns a laugh, but its merrier and so genuine it might even pull at the heartstrings, "Eventually," he teases, crossing his legs the other way now as he adjusts his position on the bar stool leaning forward and conspiringly whispers, "I weyrmated him." Yes, he was talking about another kind of breaking here, and not the kind that required a healer. Well, maybe sometimes it did, but only when they got overzealous. Heh. He straightens then, retossing his hair back along his spine and out of the way. Fingers coiling around the stem of his glass, "We were childhood friends, but K'on got searched and Impressed a couple of turns before I did and he left after graduating weyrlinghood. No one knew where he was, and he didn't want to be found."

"You beat him up and you weyrmated him? Faranth's arse, that's… different." Q'll is torn between admiration and concern for the welfare of the poor brownrider. And he might just lean a liiiittle bit away from the blonde. "I never bought into the whole weyrmating thing. Seems like too much hard work, having to be with someone every night, playing house with them and whatever." He shrugs. "My weyr back at Xanadu was the shit, though. I miss it. Couldn't bring it here with me though, could I?" The bronzerider shrugs again, and leans - a little more away from the greenrider. "So you're shacked up with this beaten-up dude in Ierne? What's it like to live there?"

R'vel laughs, "I could if I wanted to, but no. I didn't 'beat him up' as you say." This was all very amusing indeed and violet eyes sparkle with all the enjoyment that he was having now that the whole stripping for marks had been put to bed. It continues even with the intentional leaning away, combined with the all the judgement and assumptions. All of it, far too delicious. "We live our own lives. He has his lovers, I have mine and occationally we meet up. He certainly loves me and I him, but sex isn't about love. Now is it?" He leans right on into the space that was abandoned, "I certainly enjoy it much more often than one man can provide." And he leans a little bit more into the newly made space. He lifts a hand and crooks a finger, beackoning Q'll forward instead of back. "We share a hut on a tropical beach, but we're not always there together. It's quite lovely."

"So you're weyrmated, but you're not sleeping together every night? Duuuuude." Q'll seems pretty keen on that idea. "See, my folks're weyrmated tight. They weren't before I was born, but I tied them together and that shit is solid - da's blue will only ever fly mum's green, that sort of solid." He orders himself another drink, slipping coins across to pay for those purchased so far. "So to me, weyrmating's all lovey-dovey shite, being there every night with your mate and shit like that. Not what you have. That sounds soooo much better."

Tilting his head to the side, R'vel looks down at his finger, and then back at the bronzerider. That takes a little wind out of his sails, maybe it was broken. "My parents were simular. My mother was a bluerider, my father is a beastcrafter. They met as candidates, she Impressed, but he didn't." Righting himself straight again upon the stool, fingering the stem of his glass but still not having any more. Perhaps a drink and half was his limit. "I love him and he me, but we accept that we both have needs that neither of us can necessarily satisfy." Now he picks up his drink, deeper taken than before but still light enough to be considered a sip. The greenrider offers Q'll a smile, nodding. "Though it sounds to me either you haven't met the right person, or you may not be the weyrmating type. There's nothing wrong with that mind you, but it is nice to have a person that knows you inside and out, the good and the bad, and accepts all of it no matter what."

"Yeah, I dunno if there's a 'right person'," Q'll replies with a shrug. "Dunno if I've wanted to weyrmate with anyone, either… it just seems-" He stops, eyes glazing over as he speaks with Qhynnveslacth. "Shit. I gotta run. We're being called out." See that badge on his knot? That's Thunderbird - Search and Rescue. "R'vel, baby, maybe we'll see each other again." His practically full drink is abandoned, and Q'll turns to stride out, leaving the greenrider behind… hopefully not with the tab to pay.

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