Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Aug 27, 2016 20:17:57 GMT -8
The entry room was crowded, full of a press of people. The two young riders entering were not the only ones aware of the hour. The crowd though, somehow only managed to add to the vibrant atmosphere of the place. Why should it, after all? No one was having to wait for a drink, and the dancing was clearly visible.
Grinning over at his friend, K'tar tossed his head in a gesture of sheer enjoyment and life. "Come on!" he called. "Nothing ever happened in a doorway!"
"That's what you think!" someone in the crowd fired back teasingly, to laughter that the young purplerider was a main participant in.
A flat, bemused smile spread on his face as Kh'sol followed his friend into the room. Not just a place to get a drink and talk to girls, but also apparently filled with people ready to try and be funny. The feel of the place was good. He dropped some coins on the counter and asked for the house special. He stepped in next to K'tar, took a sip, scanned the place, and promptly asked the prettiest one if he could buy her a drink. He got no answer, left undiscouraged, and worked on finishing his initial drink.
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Aug 27, 2016 22:05:29 GMT -8
K'tar, drink in hand, flopped down and dropped his feet (still-booted) on the table. There wasn't a rule against it, after all, and it enabled him to indulge in a comfortable sprawl.
"Honestly, one of the best ways to go forward is to flash a good bit of marks around, buy expensive drinks, then perhaps order rounds for the entire house," he confided, in that tone in which a young man might confide things about which he actually knows not nearly so much as he would like to think he knows. "You have to be careful of pickpockets though," he added, with a grin of fond reminiscence. A clever and quick young man had little need to bring lots of money, for more marks could always be... acquired.
"Pfft, who do you think I am?" Kh'sol protested, followed by a laugh. The thought of everyone in this joint holding a drink bought by one person was absurd. It strengthened his laugh. He slowed on the last layer of what was in his glass, then decided better of it, finished the drink and slid into the crush of people dancing. A good smile out here might win him a shot with someone. That worked for him.
Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Nov 26, 2016 1:11:25 GMT -8
“Well, there’s not a rule that says they have to be your own marks,” he whispered, his grin growing broader. He might not know as much about properly attracting attention as he wished, but he did know quite a bit more about picking pockets than…
A quick swallow, a couple blinks to clear his eyes, and K’tar was lounging still, perhaps a bit more… determined than before in his pursuit of fun. He wasn’t going to think about his father now, wasn’t going to dwell on the fact that he would never, now, have a chance at that man’s approval.
“Wait right here,” he told Kh’sol, his smile broadening in anticipated fun. Standing smoothly, he ambled towards the door, leaning out and looking around as if he was, perhaps, waiting for somebody to arrive. An idle whistling tune on his lips brought a new occupant into the establishment. A black canine, with a ridge of hair on his back that grew in the opposite direction as the rest. K’tar kept leaning out for a bit, divorcing his actions from those of the canine, than turned with a sigh and a shrug. A couple of the men he brushed past on his somewhat sad walk patted him on the back in commiseration, and by the time he’d made it back to their table, he had quite a few more marks (or small fractions of marks) than he’d started with.
“Now, after a bit, you should be able to use these,” he said, passing the marks to the other man under the table.
So it was that even with a good pouch of marks and a casual gathering of suitable people that the two young Riders accomplished very little other than getting quite deep into the drinks. On account of Kh'sol's dreadful pickup lines, which had never worked before, despite his insistence that they had. And they left in a sloppy hurry when two men returned looking for their coin purse. Not much worse for the wear, certainly not any closer to their goals, nor having learned anything.