• Mature • [Bronze Boar] Banter and Canter

[Patrick]

Banter and Canter

Vhalar 12, 716

Location: The Bronze Boar

"Thanks a lot Pat, I'm headin' out." A woman with thick wavy brown locks and soft periwinkle eyes waved as she started to head out, the evening already late as the sun had finally set below its mark they called the horizon. She was a fiery young woman who frequented the place just to catch up on the local word, but often Patrick found humor in charming her with a bit of flirty banter here and there.

"Aye, take care o' your self lass. Strange times 're happenin' out there." He remarked as he gestured a quick wave of good-bye, a lean into the counter followed as he watched her backside as she attempted to leave. A different guest of the premises caught her by the arm, a snarky grin on his bearded face as he looked her up from her bottom to her face.

"Get your filthy hands off o' me swine!" She cursed with a quick draw of her arm, the man only chuckled as he leaned out of his chair towards her.

"Oh come now love, all I wan' is a taste!" He snickered with an elevation in his eyebrows and she sounded disgusted, a furious slap chimed off his face as the rowdy energy in the tavern became suddenly quiet. His expression shifted from amusement to anger just as quick as her hand moved, and with a push on the table he rose with harsh force that shook the wood enough to spill his ale. "Waggon Naggen' bitch!" He spat as he tried to approach her in fury.

"Hey! That's enough!" Patrick finally cut in as he walked around the counter in an aggressive manner. "You need t' either sit down an' keep t' your drink or leave. Your choice pal!" He barked with an arm defensively in front of the woman, although she too seemed eager to engage in a tavern fight. Certainly wasn't happening on his shift to be sure, as Patrick never liked to see a man hit on a woman. Disrespectful and downright wrong against the values Dominek taught him a long time ago, plus he knew good and well that the woman's size was too small and light for the man. He was stocky and definitely well fit, probably a mercenary from out of town or just recently arrived.

[Nell]

Nell

The Bronze Boar was a favorite haunt of many local Rharneans, giving the place a crowded quality even when it wasn't quite. Because most people knew each other there, there seemed a sense of camraderie that permeated the place. Outsiders were pinpointed on sheer solitude alone, and Nell was no different. She sat off to herself, huddled in her cloak with a frown planted on her face. Under her cloak, she wore the black-and-red leather armor of the Eternal Empire. Her dagger, razor sharp and freshly whetted, slipped into a small sheath at her thigh.

She stared at the water in front of her, determined to keep with it. In Korsalir, she found solace in the comfort of drunken oblivion, and this was a fresh start for her. She had a hard time keeping her intake down, so she decided to forgo the substances completely. The propensity of Rharneans to drop everything and start drinking made it difficult, and she'd slipped more times than she'd cared to have counted. But she was going to remain adamant. Death Nell belonged on the battlefield... Nell belonged in the city.

As she stared at the glass and the ring it left on the wooden table, she heard something. Crystal blue eyes snapped to the source of the commotion, and the woman being accosted. Nell recognized the mercenary. She'd seen him around the docks of Rharne, and had overheard his loud and boisterous stories in the taverns of the city. The first trial she heard them, she roared and hooted along with the rest of the ruffians, guffawing at his garish exploits. He was a clever man, if not a bit crude. But to Nell, who'd spent arcs listening to men and women embellish their stories, he was comical.

But he'd gone too far. She stared hard at the water again, cursing herself for not drinking. She could feel the tenseness in her shoulders, and no amount of shaking them out would help. With a low growl, she pushed herself to her feet. The water in the glass changed level, sliding up and down the side of the glass, but never spilling. As she stalked toward the man, and now the bartender and the girl, she spied a glass of untouched whisky on the bar. As she swooped by, she slipped a hand out and snagged the shot glass, draining the amber liquid with a snarl. She slammed the glass down on the bar, drawing a groan from the patron she'd taken the shot from.

In a few strides, the blonde was next to the man. Without raising a question, she slid the dagger from her sheath in a fluid motion, spinning the man around with a grunt. The tip of the dagger traced his throat, and she shoved him up against the bar. She got really close to him, close enough to murmur into his ear.

"Remember me? I was there a few trials ago, when you told the story of you taking the baker's daughter in Etzos. Or the trial before, where you took the tanner's wife in Athart. I laughed with you. I drank with you. I caused quite the ruckus with you. And now, if you don't leave this establishment... Alone... This is the last story you'll be a part of. Do you understand?"

Her voice was devoid of emotion, a trick she'd learned in Korsalir. There was a chilling quality to her voice anyway, but keeping it even and quiet tended to intimidate others quite easily. And her face, with the cut on her cheek from a scuffle earlier in Vhalar, was as serious as the mercenary man had ever seen. And the cold metal of the dagger was a clear indication that she meant business.

[Patrick]

There had been the alarming drop of silence as those within the first floor were struck by awe with what occurred, first there had been a drunkard too ambitious for his own good, and then all of a sudden another came in to put a stop to the scene when they walked right in the midst of the ordeal. That person was none other than a woman armored and actually armed who had entered the establishment earlier, though she had never drank anything but water compared to the rest. Within a moment's notice she had already grappled, overpowered, and handled the man into submission with but her own temperament, a cold and menacing air about her posture as the man at first seemed revolted by her actions. Of course he would be revolted because she was a woman, a woman who clearly could kick his ass without a second thought.

Murmurs were heard throughout the others as a few of the men laughed, and finally the drunk shook her off after he submitted to her condition. With low grumbles and curses to the woman he quickly stormed out of the establishment, in an effort to save what damaged pride he could salvage from his mistake. Quite a few people laughed and encouraged the lady, with even a few whistles to compliment her cold but feisty nature. Patrick who had stood in defense of the woman from earlier now had a sense of ease about him, a loose but relieved smile now back in his lips when he bowed his head just a bit. "Much appreciated lass, we definitely would've had t' get a knight involved if ya wasn't 'round." He looked to the girl he'd stood up for earlier, a cheeky smirk on her face as she stood with both arms crossed. "You got things covered from here?"

"I could've taken him, but I appreciate the hand ya two gave me." She answered bravely with glances between the two. "I'm gonna head out now, thanks again fer what ya did miss. I won't be forgettin' it anytime soon."

"Nor I," Patrick agreed as she started to leave once more, "I'd dare say ya earned a drink after that lass. Anythin' ya want; it's on the house this time." He figured it was the least he could do for her intervention, were it not for her he'd likely be covered in a few more bruises after all.

[Nell]

Nell's crystal blue eyes never left the face of the boisterous man, her glare withering. She released him as he agreed to her terms, and she followed him to the door as he left. She barely even cast a glance at Patrick as he thanked her, and looked at the woman with open disdain after he left. Nell had no patience for frightened girls who play at hardened warriors.

She stood in the doorway as the man exited the alley, and she stayed as the woman walked past her. She wanted to make sure that the man didn't accost his former victim as she left the Boar, but he was nowhere to be seen. She nodded after the woman rounded the corner, then returned her intense gaze back to Patrick.

"I... I'll take a whisky." She was unaccustomed to being treated to anything, and it shook her more than it should have. She managed a small smile, though it was forced and barely discernible. "Please." It was an afterthought.

She slid over to the bar and sat down, casting a glance at the man whose whisky she'd stolen. He averted his eyes immediately, and Nell shook her head. She looked back at the bartender and nodded, again trying to force a smile. It didn't come.

"I know you..." It was all she could offer. She wasn't good at small-talk, even worse at accepting gifts. So she just nodded and waited for the whisky to be placed in front of her. She didn't even drink it. Instead, she cupped it in her hand, and slid it down the bar to the man. As it landed neatly in front of him, she nodded at him. She always repaid her debts.

That was her debt.

"And I'll take one for myself, not on the house." She looked back at Patrick and her gaze was no less intense than usual. "Please." Again, she nearly forgot. She wasn't used to niceties. Especially not in the bar.

[Patrick]

The intensity in her stare left him to determine that she in fact wasn't like the average mercenary, her movements when she handled the other one and her demeanor already told him that much. Whether it was a profession she chose or something she was forced into was something that he'd have to learn through conversation, albeit a very difficult way to do so granted her withdrawn social graces she demonstrated. "Heh, round o' whiskey comin' right up." He reiterated as he walked back to the space that allowed him back behind the bar, hands already shuffled for the items needed to serve up the drink of her choice. One small glass for the shot and then the bottle of whiskey they had in the cupboard, a pull of the cork as he tilted the bottle for a pour, and then finally ready to serve for the lady.

With the tap of glass on the counter top he crossed his arms and leaned back to watch, the smile a little faded as he witnessed the glass slide down to the man that had order a shot earlier before the incident. Then as she took her seat she mentioned the fact she knew him, a statement that vaguely left a lot open to interpretation granted his choice of trade. Of course many people knew him but that didn't really mean much, since it was often here that they met him rather than any place else. "Ya don't say? Can't say I know from where, other than earlier when you ordered the water." He reasoned with a wily grin, hopeful the optimistic banter might at least help get her comfortable with talking. She seemed to be such a closed up person when it came to socialization, Patrick wasn't quite sure whether she was typically shy or just poor with others.

Either way part of his job as a bartender was to help his customers feel welcome, and granted she stepped up earlier in the midst of the bout, she couldn't have honestly been so withdrawn as to not care about others. "Well alright, another shot comin' up." He encouraged as he returned to the bottle on the counter behind him, everyone else seemed more incline to return to their own business, as the quiet that had plagued the room earlier seemed a distant memory chased by talk. Granted a few of the others probably watched or even glanced at this woman from their tables, her actions were at least going to be the talk of the night for the rest of the evening. "Alrighty, another shot of whiskey for the lady." He repeated as he finished with the pouring, the shot glass placed before her with the brown booze rested inside.

"Since ya wanted t' pay it'll only be two gold pieces... miss?" He left the sentence of in a trail open for an answer, hopeful that he could at least get a name out of the woman.

[Nell]

Nell nodded her thanks as the whisky landed in front of her, her blues eyes studying it with ferocity before she unceremoniously threw it back. She didn't make a face as she set the glass back on the bar, hard eyes once again locked on Patrick.

Nell debated giving him a false name, something to avoid detection, but she was far from Korsalir. She doubted some barkeep in Rharne knew about her desertion... But it was quite evident that she was reticent to give her name. Eventually, though, she gave in.

"Nell." Her blue eyes shone, and she slid the glass across the bar to Patrick, tapping the rim to indicate that she'd take another. She knew it was going to have to be her last one, lest she end up doing something she regretted. As she ordered the shot, though, she was only concerned with getting it.

"And you are?" Nell was never one to mince words, and she wanted to know this barkeep's name. She'd been to a few of the taverns in the Lightning City, and had met many barkeeps in her travels. This one had a sense of normalcy about him, something that Nell was not quite familiar with. Her life had been built around war. His life had been built around camraderie. She found that oddly comforting.

Or would have, if she knew what comfort was. Her blue eyes, softer now, studied him again. He was simple, and she liked that.

[Patrick]

Sure enough she downed the shot in one go and managed to keep a straight face as it went down, something not even a lot of men could do after they'd drank a bit of whiskey. Patrick was pretty sure she either forced herself to remain stern with the drink or she literally had no nerves inside her body. Could she even feel pain? There were those who had that type of condition weren't there? Well aside from the fact every Rharnean had incredible tolerance levels for their alcohol, that never stopped them from over indulging with greater hangovers the next day. Speaking of which he had quite a bit of a challenge now didn't he? The impressive stalwart warrior who finally introduced herself as 'Nell' still remained withdrawn about herself, the sense of curiosity started to get the better of him now as he dared to spice things up a bit.

"Patrick is the name, folks 'round here just call me Pat for sure... or Rick. Choice is yours honestly, whatever flies the fancy." He mused as he looked over his shoulder back up to the shelves decorated with bottles, an old idea already circulating in his head that could pay off in getting this Nell to talk with him a bit more. To hell with whatever kept her so quiet, tonight he was going to get her to open up about her self. He noticed she did in fact seem to stare just for a short bit, a wonder struck him as to what it was she thought about him in doing so. She was definitely a mystery in her own way, and the more she restrained herself, the more Patrick wanted to break that little habit.

"We're all good folk here ya know, ain't none of us going to bite ya. 'Less ya ask nicely o' course." He jested as he turned to grab three glass shots and the whiskey bottle once more. "In fact I've got a proposal for ya." Once more he pulled the cork from the bottle and poured the three shots, moved that said three to the front of Nel and then replaced the bottle back where it belong. "How about a little game? Ya like games? I know one that's really fun to play." One of the three shots was grabbed and held mid-level, while several men beckoned and warned what was coming next.

"Oh shit! He's gonna pull that one out!"

"Careful lass, this is how he get's all the ladies talkin'!"

"You hush!" He hollered with a wide playful grin to the bunch, laughter and excitement largely in development as he focused on Nell once more. "Simply put there's two ways we can play this game. First way is that one question is asked, and if you answer then I drink. Then you ask and I answer, so you drink and so on." He blabbered as though it wasn't entirely the exciting part of the game. "Or we could guess something 'bout one another. Usually this involves statements of the obvious of course, but when it gets to the personal stuff that's gonna be the hard part. So say you point out something about me, like my hair is brown for instance." He finally downed the shot he held and tapped the glass on the counter, a bit of a grimace followed as he felt the strong alcohol burn its trail down his throat. "Like that." He just about coughed that out as others laughed from his face, a clear in his throat followed as he grabbed another shot and left the one for Nell.

"So how 'bout it? You down to play?" He challenged with a smirk as he waited to see her answer.

[Nell]

Nell's eyebrow arched as Patrick worked, eyes watching his every movement like a hawk stalking its prey. She knew this Patrick was trying to be friendly, but the last time she had been friendly, she had been betrayed. Nell wasn't one for sentiment, and she definitely wasn't the one to wantonly make friends. But Patrick seemed determined, and Nell was intrigued by his candor.

"Aye, I like games, Patrick." She didn't know why, but she preferred Patrick over the shortened versions of his name. Perhaps it was that Patrick suited him far more than Pat or Rick, or perhaps it was just Nell's way to break the norm. Ever the iconoclast, she would call him Patrick henceforth.

She listened intently as he explained the game, more than a little wary after the men cajoled Patrick. Nell obviously wasn't the first woman he'd used this trick with... Not that it mattered to her. She did not care about the previous patrons. Eight be damned, she didn't care about most of the current patrons. But it put her on edge to know that he was up to something. She didn't peg him for the conniving type.

And as he finished his description, she realized he wasn't. She could see the ploy for what it was, and she knew that he'd gone to great lengths to try to get her to open up. In fairness, she hadn't opened up to anyone in a few arcs, so it was her natural countenance to be standoffish and coarse. But she admired Patrick's straightforward simplicity, and she nodded in agreement.

"Whichever you'd like, though I daresay you'll be much drunker than I am if we guess." A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips, and the gleam in her eye wasn't one of coldness, but intrigue. Her eyebrows bunched together slightly and she undid the clasp of her cloak, catching it before it fell to the floor. She looked back at him.

"Shall we get started, then?" She was acutely aware of the men staring at her from the sides, or grinning at Patrick for his clever use of liquor to get her talking. But Nell was in control of the situation. Had she not wanted to be spoken to, she would have let the ruffian finish his business with Patrick and the woman. From the looks of it, Patrick would have had a hard time stopping the mercenary from doing much of anything. "You ask first."

[Patrick]

To hear that Nell did in fact like games was something that excited him a little more, even motivated him to be a bit more enthusiastic when it came to the part with explaining the fundamentals. Indeed this had been something he'd done many times before and not just with women but men as well, mainly because it proved to be a fun learning experience for both parties at the beginning. Towards the end though when both sides were completely hammered... now that was the real fun, and there's actually been a few times where Patrick was a little too drunk for his own good. Didn't stop him from work of course but it made the challenge all the more worth it, mainly because customers like to try and do something stupid with him just for laughs.

Either way everybody else here knew what the game entailed, and now it seemed Nell understood the whole point of it as well. The whole time he'd demonstrated she'd remained completely still and focused on him, no real physical changes in her composure whatsoever. It was because of that he really wanted to play this game, not so that she would hopefully be drunk off her ass in the end; but more or less in effort to loosen up and at least give a genuine smile at some point. "Oh I really doubt that," He retorted as many of the guys in the bar whistled at the challenge, "believe me it'll take more than a few shots t' drink me under." His musing was mixed with a warm hearty grin that complimented her comment with a short laugh. Sure enough at this point they were both the center of amusement for those gathered here tonight, and Patrick intended to deliver both a fun and hearty performance with the lady; one way or another.

"Well since ya so kind I'll just start with the basics." He said as his eyes inspected her for a moment for something simple to start with, normally he'd pick out something on the spot and just roll with it; but Nell was different in this case and for that he had to be careful. Every small detail he could pick up about her was something he could use to his advantage, not just because it gave him the opportunity to call that specific detail out, but it could also reveal the ones she guarded so closely. "Hmm. You like t' keep your hair in one simple braid." He pointed out as he rested one arm on the table, a glance down at the shot glasses followed, before he looked back up with a smirk as he waited to hear her answer.

[Nell]

Nell watched him closely, eyes penetrating, trying to judge his intentions. Her eyebrows raised on her forehead as he looked her over, and she expected him to comment on her armor or cuts. But instead, he commented on her hair and the simple style in which she kept it.

The braid was a remnant of her time as a Legionnaire. It kept her hair back and out of her face in combat, while also giving enemies less mess to grab onto in a pinch. The braid had saved her plenty of pain in her time, and she kept it after she left because it was familiar to her.

But he was right. She wore her hair like that nearly all the time. She even slept in it most trials. So she stared at him, hard, trying to place his intentions. He seemed harmless enough, and she was sure she could kill him should the need arise, so she let the assumption ride. Instead, her blue eyes softened ever so slightly and she nodded.

"Yes. Usually." And with that, Nell raised the glass and let the spirit roll down her throat. It was warm, and she could feel it in her chest, but she gave no indication that it burned at it went down. Instead, she forced a tight smile and tapped the rim of her glass, indicating that he should refill it before she takes her turn.

As he did so, Nell studied him. He was so relaxed, so happy, that it was hard for her to assume any tragedy. She thought it would be cheating to choose something obvious, though he did. Instead, she tried to dig deeper. Practiced eyes roamed over him, studying his face and smile and eyes. With a small tilt of her head, she watched him.

And so the trills passed, and Nell hadn't spoken. Instead, she just watched him, blue eyes moving with his movements. She focused on the blue of his eyes, the brown of his hair, committing things to memory should she need to recall them. Finally, though, she spoke.

"You seek a simple life." It was a vague enough statement, but one that she knew would be true. His nature, his personality, his reactions to her thus far had proven that he was just a normal man, trying to make the best out of what he had. Nell could appreciate that. In fact, she could relate to it, and that eased her slightly. she relaxed her tense posture and rested her elbows on the bar, one eyebrow raised slightly as if inquisitive. A smirk played at her lips. She was enjoying herself.