Backwards And Forwards


Max.jpg Maura.jpg

Date: 7/4/11
Location: The kitchens - Eastern Weyr
Synopsis: Two bubbly thieves run into one another, and wind up in an unlikely discussion about … timing.
Rating: If above PG-13, please note here.
Logger: Maura

Another evening, another few hours spent trying to bore or tire or wear herself out so he can head back to sleep. Sugars and fats aren't going to *help* with that, obviously, but bubblies are just awesome comfort food plain and simple. Thus, recalling her chat with Indira about where to find said pastry late at night… Maura has snuck into the kitchen and finds herself approaching the overnight oven to see if the treats are really in there. She's not the best at being sneaky though really, and she makes enough noise that anyone else in there will -not- be surprised when she rounds a corner.

Well over a month has passed since the incident down at Landing and for the most part, life has returned to normal. At least on the surface it has. Enough to have a certain beast manager back to the habit of prowling the inner warren of the Weyr in search of sticky treats. Said sticky treats being of course bubbly pies, said bubbly pies, currently being held 'hostage' in a certain oven. Thus it is that their 'liberator's' frame darkens the entrance to the kitchens a scant few moments after Maura enters. Dark eyes narrow onto the woman sneaking about and in a newly formed habit, Max rubs at the fresh scar that dissects his face diagonally. Sneaking right up behind her, and sticking his finger into the small of her back as if it were a weapon, his words come low enough to at least carry the idea of serious threat, "Back away from the pies and no one gets hurt."

Maura startles quite easily, unfortunately for her dignity. So when there is suddenly a finger against the small of her back, her hands abruptly release the oven handle and the contraption snaps shut with a loud clang. "I don't think so, buddy. Whatever's pressed against my back better be gone when I count to three or I am -totally- going to rat you out to my big strong friends." the girl retorts, as if it's entirely something to be taken seriously. "You must be Max. Indira warned me about you, you know."

"Big strong friends, huh?" amusement is evident in Max's tone, though he doesn't move his 'weapon' from the small of her back just yet. "You mean that walkin' ego, D'lan?" a snort spills and dropping his hand away the beast manager steps around Maura to her side, opens the oven and then drops a curse as forgetting to use a kitchen towel, he burns his fingers on the hot tray. "I'll just bet she did," he says from around the finger he's now got shoved in his mouth as he scowls on his mother having given the bluerider the drop on him. An expression worsened by that scar. "Lessee," dark eyes drop to her shoulder, "bluerider. That would make you…Maura, bonded to Rikath, aye?" And he would know that how?

Maura tries not to laugh at the description of D'lan. Really she does. And it's really not nice of her to have to choke back that sounds of amusement, but… "One of them." she replies, with a bit of a smirk. "But there's others. And they're quiet. And you know what they say about the quiet ones." she grabs a towel to hand over to the scarred one, but he's got his hand in the oven before she can pass it over, and her tongue clucks in dismay. "Yes, she sure did. And you're not going to stop me from getting a bubbly of my own." Mouthy little thing, she is. "Since none of us blab, you must know my name and my bond for a reason. What is it?" She also has… no fear. None at all, since there's merely a flicker of sympathy for the fresh scar but no flinch and no backing away.

Max's mouth hitches up in the one corner as the bluerider battles to keep a straight face. "P'sec, Ch'rii, M'pret, H'tek, the twins, J'lorn," he goes on to name the 'terrible twelve' a brow lifting at the end, "I leave anyone out?" With a smirk in place he turns back to the oven, this time using the towel Maura had tried to offer him in the first place and hauls the tray out. Setting it on the counter he positions himself right in front of it, arms folding over his chest and boots crossed at the ankle, setting the woman with a silently challenging look meant to convey that if she wants one, she's either going to have to go through him or…the or is left undefined. For now. "You don't think folk are gonna notice a new bunch of riders spillin' into the Weyr?" The look of sympathy he sees flash in her eyes has Max dropping his gaze away. "I work with Randi," he eventually states but adds nothing more preferring to be irritatingly unhelpful on just what his involvement might be.

"I don't count U'rrem because all he's good for is trying to cop a feel." Maura replies promptly. giving Max her very best 'so there' look, because at least she was able to dispute something in his list. "Of course people are going to notice a new bunch of riders arriving. But there's only a few of us arrived so far, and you've been… not here." she points out, irritated that he is standing in front of the prized bubblies. So at the very least, she tries to quickly reach around him and grab the first litle pie she can come in contact with. "You work with Randi." Pause. "You know that it's easy for me to find out if you're lying. So I'll take your word for it right now. Randi would kick my arse for waking Kaseth and her up to ask anyway. So, nice to meet you and all. Except for the fact that you're blocking the /pastries/."

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Max quips on U'rrem, the 'so there' look rolling right off of him and simply serving to deepen his amusement. "Not here?" Up goes that brow, "And where is it that I've been, hmm?" He seems to be enjoying baiting the woman for as she makes an attempt to grab a bubbly from around him, so the beast manager just so happens slide that way, thus blocking her route, an annoying grin in place. "If you think about it," he goes on to add to the topic of Randi, "We all work for her don't we?" For everyone in the Weyr falls under the hand of the weyrwoman in some form or another. Max then casts a look behind and feigns surprise, "I am? Jays, sorry darlin'. Want one?" And with that he'll lift one of the tasty treats up and waft it just under the bluerider's nose.

"He's my /uncle/. Yes, I consider it a bad thing." Forgive Maura for looking a little green around the edges at that. "How would I know where you've been? I just know that you haven't been /here/." Her first attempt at grabbing a bubbly thwarted, she just narrows her eyes a little. "Yeah sure, in the technical sense everyone does. Just some of us a little more then others." She knows better then to be specific, even with someone who appears to know more then everyone else. But for his torment of wafting, she doesn't try to grab the pastry. No, that could be messy. Instead, she tries to bump his hand away; it could make the treat go flying near anywhere if he loses his grip. And she is quite amused. Ok, -very- amused. "You, are an ass. But that's ok - I can deal with that." As if to demonstrate, she starts movng around the counter, fully intending to climb right up on it to nab what she wants if she has to.

Max sends the bluerider an entirely 'Duuuh' type expression when she tells him what he already knows of her link to U'rrem but he drops the topic. Moving on. "Ah, here as in this exact location." And he pretends to give that some thought, "Not in person, no." Because he's got people that lift treats for him, right? Riiight. "Give it up, darlin'," the sly cast to his expression likely making it hard to define whether he's referring to her attempts to snag a bubbly pie or the innocent act pertaining to the renegade rider's activities. "Southern Boll, sixty two turns ago, a large chest of clothin' went missin' from the Weaver Hall. Crom will find twenty turns into the future that they're short a fair few sacks of coal and firestone from their stocks. Forty turns passed, the millers discovered flour, sweetener and large amounts of wheat missin'." His dark regard then settles an intent look onto Maura and his voice drops to a quiet rumble, "O'ren and green Salarth. Eighteen riders gone. Shall I continue?" There is now neither mockery nor taunt in either tone or expression just a heavy look that conveys his full understanding at the horrific tragedy.

The mood however is lightened when Maura's hand makes contact with his and sends that bubbly pie flying across the kitchen. Shock crosses the man's expression, "Hey now, that just ain't right. You can't be treatin' bubblies like that!" Horrified. Or at least seeming to be, Max is distracted just long enough that she'll make it up and onto that counter.

Maura may make it up onto the counter alright, but instead of grabbing her pie and running while she has the chance, her expression falls at the recital of raid and dead riders. "No, you don't need to continue." The reply is both hoarse and tired, for all the playful rivalry over pastries, a bit of her underlying weariness shows through. "Don't talk about them. Just.. just /don't/. I come down here to get away from that and put it away. Out of my mind, since it sure doesn't let me do it when I sleep, alright?"

That seems to be all she asks, allowing a smirk to appear when the sound of pie filling smacking against a wall fills the sudden silence. "Wonder which of us will get in trouble from your mother for that, if we can't find it and clean it up." she wonders.

Max goes quiet, turning slowly, attention pinned to Maura as she goes still atop the counter. Long his dark regard holds to her and then he's lifting a hand to her in offer to help her down. "Come down from there, darlin'," tone turned gentle, all teasing gone now. "They ain't never gonna be gone from your mind, Maura," using her name for the first time, "You'll carry 'em with you forever," he notes grimly, "As do me and Ma those whose names we put forward and sent to their deaths." Thus handing over some of the part he'd had to play in it all. "There ain't no shame in mournin' 'em and the pain ain't gonna be gone overnight neither. But, with time, the hole fills in and it don't ache so much no more." Spoken in such a tone as to suggest he's had personal experience with loss. Allowing a few moments of silence, his gaze then tracks hers, sweeping about the kitchen and the edge of a mischievous grin fits into place. "You, cause I'm the Headwoman's son remember?" Which actually casts the most aspersions on him but he's not about to point that out.

Far too polite to turn down an offered hand, Maura grasps the outstretched limb and helps herself down off the counter with downcast gaze. It's good that she's had a lot of practice of late in fighting back tears and affecting a serene outward expression. Because it takes an enormous amount of willpower for her not to just let loose the floodworks in the middle of the kitchen, with the stranger who is apparently not really all that much of a stranger. She takes a deep unsteady breath at first, and just nods before actually meeting his gaze agan. "Thanks." Because really, what else is she going to say?

But then, of course, a snort. "I think that means she's more likely to blame you. I look far more innocent, even /if/ your mum knows what all I've been up to." she points out, a bit of her old cheeky smile showing up. "So I think you oughta help me find where that bubbly landed."

Max isn't like other males that fly into a panic when a woman collapses into tears but he is prepared to do just about anything to wipe them away and put a smile back into place. So it is that he watches closely as Maura fights to maintain her composure and then allowing the woman her dignity, he drops his gaze away only turning it back to her to offer a lopsided smile and an easily spoken, "Any time, darlin'."

A grin peels into place and giving a wink he takes up a bubbly pie, "You gotta know how to lay a trail." With that the bubbly pie gets smooshed into the front pocket of a junior baker's apron that is hanging nearby and then his sticky fingers smear crumbs and filling across the bib section. Sauntering away from the 'evidence' just planted and licking his fingers he reaches for another bubbly pie and this time, actually offers it to Maura. Someone's learned to share!! Taking one up for himself he leans agains the counter and sets the bluerider with an interested look, "Ever been tempted to take a peak at yourself in the future and see how you're doin'?"

Hey, you don't hang with the renegades without learning to keep yourself in check. Mostly. That she keeps calm might be in part because /staying/ calm during one of their timed raids has been carefully honed during the year before they contracted that horrible disease. She cannot help her astonished stare when Max 'lays a trail' to a junior baker's apron though; having to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle the started laughter. "-Nice-. You think she doesn't see through that?" It's definitely a good distraction, and one that brings a broad smile. She'll take that offered pie, thank you, and bite into it before it cools.

That question is a little unexpected, but Maura shrugs at first. "Sure, I've thought about it. I imagine most of us have at one point or another. But, I've never done it. What if I'm a miserable and lonely bitch? Who wants to see that? What if I find that I'm dead? I'd be compelled to keep trvaelling to find out what happened and that alone might be enough to make that eventuality happen. But, why do you ask?"

"Depends, have you met the new baker?" That would be the prissy, self-righteous senior apprentice that has recently transferred in from Telgar that has been making everyone's lives hell with her bitchy snap and snark. "I see it as doin' 'em a favour." Especially if the junior baker packs up and leaves in a huff. "No one who works with somethin' sweet should be that sour." That's his story and Max is sticking to it. Brushing flakes of pastry from the front of his shirt, he reaches for yet another treat and broad shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. "If you're a miserable lonely bitch in the future, then you get to come back and do somethin' about it, aye?" Makes sense to him. As to her possibly finding that she's dead, the beast manager's expression shadows. "Aye, but if you ask the right questions of the right people in that time, you'll find out why without crossing your path too many times tryin' to find out. And maybe you can fix it so it don't happen." He doesn't as yet explain why he'd asked the question of Maura.

"Huh. No, I haven't. Sounds like I don't want to either. Stories get around…" Maura admits, having heard about the trouble the new woman is causing. His reasoning prompts a grin, and she doesn't seem to disagree. Nor does she brush pastry flakes from her shirt just yet. No point until she's done, see. "Well sure, that makes sense." the bluerider agrees, growing thoughtful at the suggestions of how to avoid crossing one's path too many times. "Fixing it so it doesn't happen… nice idea, in theory." she'll agree, raising an eyebrow however. Rikath, for what it's worth is -all ears- right now. He likes where this is going, which means no end of possible trouble for his rider.

Max is quiet for a while, contemplating the half eaten bubbly between his fingers, and then dark eyes shadowed by an odd note of regret lift back up to Maura, "If you could change somethin' in the past. Would you?" He's all over the place it seems with questions casting both to the future and the past. On the matter of fixing things in the future a small smile appears, "I figure why not if you've got a bit of a heads up, aye?" Then an idea starts to formulate and an entirely sly light ignites those intense eyes of his, "Could be a person with the right kind of information could find themselves better'n alright some turns up ahead, aye?" Ever the plotter and schemer he is. Which is probably why his more nefarious title, that being crimelord of the southern continent, fits him so well.

Maura's answer should be obvious, given how close she came to a meltdown mere moments ago. Her answer, when given, is with a bit of trepidation though. "The 18 of us who died. I'd change that if I could. If I knew it wouldn't cause worse to happen down the line." she admits. "But it's so hard to know what will happen if you alter the past. That's why we were always so careful with what times we went." Using knowledge of the future to give oneself some better prospects; that seems a bit less dangerous in some ways, and easier for her to contemplate. "Well sure. Depending on what information. Leadership flight wins are big to bet on. Number of eggs that'll be on the sands… color ratios. Disputed Holds…" her voice trails off. "That the sort of thing you're talking about?"

Maura's reply draws a frown into place, the scar slashed across his forehead, intersecting it and for a long time he's quiet. Setting the half-eaten bubbly aside, arms fold across his chest, expression carrying a faintly haunted edge to it. "How can savin' someone be a bad thing?" A breath of air exhales as a sigh and scrubbing tiredly at his face he fits a smirk into place, "Now you're gettin' the idea." Approval high for the various different options Maura immediately touches on. Then he's pushing away from the counter and taking up the kitchen towel used earlier to extract the treats from their heated hiding place, he puts a few of them into its centre and wraps them up. "Might have somethin' what needs checkin' out," Max states with an enigmatic expression in place, "But right now, I got me some girls what needs some lovin'." A statement which quite likely makes him appear to be in the same Don Juan category that D'lan inhabits.

"If it means even more people die." That's Maura's simple reply; as if she's actually given the matter more thought then she wants to admit. She grins back at him for the apparent approval of how quickly she catches on to the possibilities of bringing back information from the future. "Well, if you need help…" the offer hangs there, and she kind of smirks at his next statement. Yeah, he really does sound like the renegades notorious weyr bicycle there for a moment. But if she doesn't judge D'lan for it, she's not going to judge Max for it either. "Catch you soon." Like, next time they both steal bubblies!

That actually has Max pausing and setting the bluerider with another of those intent looks. He can't dispute her logic and so saying nothing, he slides his gaze away. The bubblies wrapped and tucked under one arm, a crooked smile turns out. Yeah, he knows exactly where Maura's mind went with that comment of his, but he doesn't correct her assumptions and with a tip of two fingers to temple, he ticks off a salute and is gone as quietly as he arrived. Not back to the beast caverns, and not down to the lower caverns to go on the hunt for willing women, but instead first passed the Headwoman's office and then onto Jaya's bar.

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