Drinks, Relaxation & Conversation [Garrett]

[Jazz]

Lysander hurried across the street, jerking open the door to the notorious Dove. There was a harsh wind that day, too chilly for high summer. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles, and his shirt needed to be re-adjusted. Lysander walked into the familiar inn, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dimmer light, and his ears to the noise. He liked the Dancing Dove, although he didn't drink much. It was wonderful to just kick back and relax. There were usually plenty of interesting people about, and the outgoing young man did love a good conversation. He walked up to the bar, and smiled at the waitress who was temporarily managing it. Being quite the charmer, he was soon having a nice chat with the young woman - who was, unfortunatly, called away at the return of the bartender.

A glass of ale in hand, 'Sander made his way to an empty table. Near the doorway, but not too close. Away from most of the din, but not too far. Wonderful. Lysander Alevi, Commander of the second Rider group Ghostwind, sipped lightly from the glass as he scanned the room with sorm-grey eyes. It was good to be away from work. Tortall was at peace, indeed, but the Queen's Riders had duties that extended beyond war - bandits and the like didn't wait for a declaration of war.

He leaned back in his seat, smiling. He was comfortable here. He'd known the place since he was little. Indeed, his older (but not oldest) sister worked here. But he didn't see Elaine. Nah, she was probably off-shift. The last thing he needed was a lecture about his clothes - a nice pair of breeches, a shirt and sturdy boots were enough for him, by Gods. He was jerked out of his memories as the door opened, letting in a stream of light and a gust of the harsh wind that had left 'Sander's hair sticking up.

[Wayne]

Garret pushed the door open, letting the chilly wind in for a few moments. Business was slow that day, so he decided to close the smithy early and grab a drink, as well as have a chat with someone, anyone. A man sat alone near the door, dressed respectably by his standards. It wasn't often when a man comes by in a clean shirt, clean breeches and polished boots. Most of the jobs of commoners led to wear rough and worn-out clothes, like the ash-stained shirt and breeches he wore. Tattered boots completed his outfit.

He touched his back pocket, where a bag of coins was tucked. Not his, mind you, but of some poor passerby that Garrett decided was too rich for his own good. Besides, it'll help pay for the drink he was going to get. Garr glanced around to check for anyone from the palace, nobles, Riders, knights, and the the Lord Provost's people. It seemed safe to him, so he slid into the seat across black-haired man.

He decided to drop his accent for this chat, unaware of any danger that may bring. Garrett plunged into a conversation, completely dismissing any dangers. "Ay... What brings a respectable gentleman like you round into the working commoner's side of town? I'm Flynn, by the way. Flynn Leilani." He smiled warmly, to reassure the man.

[Jazz]

Lysander turned to look at the newcomer. He didn't waste much of his attention on the man - who didn't look as if he was a troublemakler - until he sat down across our lovable Rider. He wasn't much surprised. 'Sander was good with people, and always gave the (quite correct) impression that he was friendly, welcoming. Now he looked the man over - ash-stained clothes told him that the newcomer was a blacksmith, or of that trade. You never knew, though. You got all sorts in the Dancing DOve.

"Ay... What brings a respectable gentleman like you round into the working commoner's side of town? I'm Flynn, by the way. Flynn Leilani."

Lysander smirked. It was, most probably, his clean and good-quality clothes that mad ethe man think he was anything but a working commoner. The Riders have to be respectable when they aren't out, y'know, catching bandits and the like. "Lysander Alevi," he introduced himself, offering a hand for the man to shake. He didn't look too far from 'Sander's own age. "My good sir, don't jump to conclusions. I assure you, I'm as much a working commoner as the next person in the Dove."

He didn't mention he was a Rider. He probably would, if the man asked him what he did for a living, but he saw no point in saying it otherwise. If you worked for the government, sometimes certain commoners... didn't quite like you. He sipped again from his glass, he smiled and added, "Although, that mightn't be the best comparison. Let me rephrase: I'm as much a working commoner, sir, as any working commoner in this 'working's commoner's side of town'."

[Wayne]

"Lysander Alevi. My good sir, don't jump to conclusions. I assure you, I'm as much a working commoner as the next person in the Dove. Although, that mightn't be the best comparison. Let me rephrase: I'm as much a working commoner, sir, as any working commoner in this 'working's commoner's side of town'."

"Right," Garr agreed heartily. He waved to a server, signaling that he was to have his usual, some light gin. The drink was brought over, and he took a small sip. He sighed and continued speaking. "What struck me as odd about you is your clothes. You claim your a working gentleman, but your clothes speak differently. Clothes can easily tell you about a person. What do you do? Are you a merchant? Er... Or do you have a day off? As you can tell from my clothes, I'm a blacksmith."

He drank a bit more, and stopped once more. He questioned Lysander, "Don't mind my questions. Just curiousity teasing me again. But where did you get your clothes? Really nice, as if they came from the palace or for some rich commoner."

[Jazz]

"What struck me as odd about you is your clothes. You claim your a working gentleman, but your clothes speak differently. Clothes can easily tell you about a person. What do you do? Are you a merchant? Er... Or do you have a day off? As you can tell from my clothes, I'm a blacksmith."

Lysander grinned; he had guessed right. Nobles that thought commoners were stupid were very, very wrong. They might not be educated, but they were very clever. Although, 'Sander mused, what with the monarch, they were educated too.
"Nay, not a merchant. I've a day off, as you said. I'm a Rider." He didn't mention his station. He never felt the need to. Respect came from your actions, not the word "Commander". "A blacksmith, eh? Where d'you work, if you don't mind me askin'."

"Don't mind my questions. Just curiousity teasing me again. But where did you get your clothes? Really nice, as if they came from the palace or for some rich commoner."

'Sander laughed, shaking his head. "I don't mind. I've more than enough curiosity for two, myself." She gave a crooked grin, remembering his two sisters and mother, always scolding him for wanting to know everything. Although (and here was the true irony) they all had an insatiable curiosity themselved. "Nay, sir. I get my work clothes from the Riders, sure enough, but my ma's a seamstress. And my da's a blacksmith too, as it turns out. Got family in almost every trade."

[Wayne]

"Nay, not a merchant. I've a day off, as you said. I'm a Rider. A blacksmith, eh? Where d'you work, if you don't mind me askin'."

Garrett leaned back in his seat, pretending to be deep in thought. "Hmm...," he sat back up. "Right. I blanked out. About a ten minute walk from here. In the inner parts of the city." He took another sip, and Garr's eyes landed upon his boots. Life, I do need to get a new pair. So tattered and stained. It won't do. A look of displeasure flickered across his face, then disappeared as he remembered that he was entertaining.

"I don't mind. I've more than enough curiosity for two, myself. Nay, sir. I get my work clothes from the Riders, sure enough, but my ma's a seamstress. And my da's a blacksmith too, as it turns out. Got family in almost every trade."

Garrett laughed. "Very interesting. You say your name's Alevi? I've never heard of a blacksmith by the name of Alevi, but he was probably before my time. Or maybe I have." For a split second, his Yamani mask flashed across his face, an old dangerous habit that still occurs sometimes as he thinks or reminisces (sp?). He put it away subconciously, not noticing a single thing and added, "I think I have."

The door to the pub opened once more and the chilly wind blasted in. Garrett shivered. "There sure is an awful wind blowing about for summer. Ah, summer. Summer reminds me of the sea, I really don't know why." He smiled and continued, "I do love to travel. Have you been to the Yamani Islands?"

He grew quiet. The Yamani Islands... Mother. How was she? He hadn't seen her since his capture. Did she know about the rogue business? Garrett's eyes mirrored his thinking, turning misty and giving off the faraway look. The last time he had seen her, she still looked young and healthy, but her health was threatened by an illness. The healer did a good job, but was there a relapse? Garrett made a mental note to arrange for a ship to Yamani in a few months.

He noticed Lysander once more and grinned. He was, after all, entertaining.