Goes With The Territory


Max.jpg Nenienne.jpg

Date: 2011.07.09
Location: EW - Bathing Caverns
Synopsis: Max seeks Nenienne out to check up on her after the incident down at Landing.
Rating: PG13
Logger: Max

It's the middle of the lunch rush, which means the baths are nigh on deserted. This seems not to be a problem for the grim-faced Smith jeweler who enters, her right arm in a very stiff-looking sling which keeps the arm slightly away from her body. After removing the sling she undresses awkwardly, using her left hand only, to reveal a one-piece bathing suit. She looks around and opts for one of the unoccupied smaller pools.

Not quite a seven has passed since the incident down at Landing and the beast manager is out and about, prowling the inner warren of the Weyr with a determined look in place. Truth be told, he’s removing the temptation to deck Waine for telling him for the umpteenth time to ‘take it easy’. Though most of his face is shadowed by his wide-brimmed hat, there is no sign of bandaging now but the stitches have yet to come out. “Don’t need a nursemaid,” he growls to the young stablehand that’s been put to shadowing him by his second, “Now rack off and go irritate someone else.” That the growl of frustration that precedes his entry into the bathing caverns.

Nenienne is sunk deep into the pool to the point where her shoulders are submerged. Upon hearing the growl, though, she jumps slightly and turns to see who's entering. She relaxes and sinks back in when she sees Max.

“But Waine said,” – “Ain’t dead am I?” Max shoots back in return sending a glare made more threatening by the healing knife wound. “N-n-no sir,” the lad stutters. “Then I’m still givin’ the orders,” Max snaps out. Baralon is clever enough to know when to retreat, though he only goes so far as just around the corner and out of sight. “Shardin’ bunch of shardin’ ole women,” he’s muttering under his breath as he stalks further into the bathing caverns and then comes to an abrupt halt as his dark regard lands on Nenienne. He stands there in silence for a moment or two and then with heavy exhale of breath approaches and removing his hat hunkers down near her, though not too close so as to intrude. “How you doin’, darlin’,” spoken with quiet yet sincere concern threaded into his tone.

Nenienne says tersely, "A bit jumpy. Not in too much pain. Wondering how long it will be before I find out if the damage is permanent." Eyeing his newest scar, she asks, with no little sympathy of her own, "How are you doing? I never got a chance to thank you for the rescue the other night."

The jewellery-smith’s words bring a faint grimace into place along with a frown that sort of only half-forms until the pinch of stitches push it away again. “Sleepin’ alright?” Max queries in response to the jumpy part of Nenienne’s reply and then his gaze drops openly to her shoulder and a small smile, meant to be reassuring appears, “Naw, takes more’n that to keep our Neni, down, aye?” As to his own injuries and the thanks given, his gaze drops to the hat in his hands and then lifts back to her as broad shoulders shift in an awkward shrug, “T’weren’t nothin’. Just sorry we didn’t get there before those two pieces of shite got to you.” Regret for having failed in that sense flickering in and out of his tone.

Nenienne's frown doesn't go away, though it doesn't get any deeper. "Having nightmares, and sleeping sitting up is no fun." In a somewhat flat voice she says, "I'd be more reassured if I could move my right arm of its own volition." She lightens a bit as he discusses timing. "I think your timing was just fine. I don't want to know what they would have done when they figured out that I was telling the truth." She can't help but shudder."

"Get the healers to mix you up a sleepin' draught, aye?" spoken more as a missive than a suggestion by Max, "And I can have someone watchin' outside your door at night if that helps?" There's a wry look and an understanding nod given to the difficulties of sleeping upright for cracked ribs make finding a comfortable position a touch tricky too. "It'll come right, darlin'," he tries once again to reassure, "Pulled my shoulders out like that more'n once and I'm still cuttin' my own meat," a lopsided smile appearing at the end. In subconscious gesture a hand lifts and rubs at the fresh scar on his forehead as anger threads in for the way in which Nenienne had been abused. "Men like that…" Max pauses and then adds in a tone so low his words almost get lost in the steam, "ain't got no place in the south." Perhaps alluding to the man he'd killed.

Nenienne nods at the directive/suggestive, noting "That probably wouldn't hurt. The first night I had enough fellis to down a small cothold, but something a little less powerful wouldn't hurt." She does look relieved as he mentions his own dislocated shoulder incidents, though there is still some hint of worry haunting her features. She becomes grim again when he mentions Crud and Stud. "Don't belong anywhere on Pern. Have you found them yet?" She didn't register that Stud died in the forge that night.

“Heh. You and me both, darlin’,” Max speaks to being doped on fellis, “Wound up nearly chokin’ Jaya when she stopped by cause I weren’t sure which side was up,” not the sort of confession one might expect him to speak to anyone let alone Nenienne. Then again, near death experiences tend to form unusual bonds between the unlikeliest of people. The young crimelord could lie or be evasive in order to spare the journeywoman but she’s already proven herself to be an unusually strong woman. So it is that he meets her eyes without flinching and speaks Stud and Crud’s outcome in a single flat word, “Dead.”

Nenienne shows no change in emotion, though she does say, "Shards. Now I won't get to see them tried and staked out in threadfall." She pauses, then adds, "Ah well, it's better than them escaping, I suppose." Then she asks, "I hadn't seen Jaya around in a while. Is she back? How is she?"

Max sets Neni with a darkly amused look that is devoid of humour, “Does bein’ dropped over a waterfall and left for the wherries to feed on, count any?” As to Jaya, his expression warms a touch, “Aye, she’s back,” he confirms and then adds, “She…uh…was takin’ care of somethin’ for me.” That something being his daughter but he doesn’t say as much, neither does he add that Jaya had been sent away for her own safety too.

Nenienne nods at the first and murmurs "That sounds perfectly reasonable." Perhaps the usually bland Smith is a touch bloodthirsty. She looks curious when he mentions the reason for Jaya's absence, but says cryptically, "You're all over the place these days." She does not sound at all disapproving.

Approval edges into Max’s expression for the response given, the curiosity Nenienne displays rewarded with only a faintly enigmatic smile and then the beast manager is setting his hat back to his head. Hands set to thighs as he prepares to stand, he pauses and a slightly wry smile falls into place, “Goes with the territory, darlin’.” Volumes spoken with those few words and perhaps it’s the double meaning attached to them that he finds humorous enough to send the journeywoman a wink as he unfolds and stands. “You need anythin’. And I mean anythin’, you know where to find me, aye?”

Nenienne nods, then marks him getting up and asks amusedly, "Not even going to bathe after managing to shake your bodyguard?"

Glancing toward the entrance to the bathing caverns where he’s quite sure that Baralon is still lurking somewhere, Max turns a crooked grin down onto Nenienne. “Naw, ain’t my bath time yet,” he quips in return and then pauses as if a thought had just formed, “Maybe next time I should bathe, tell the kid he can scrub my back or somethin’,” teasing. Then the young beast manager slash crimelord adds more sincerely, “Just wanted to check you were doin’ okay.” As if he’d known all along that she was to be found there or at the very least, had been prowling about the inner workings of the Weyr with the intent of tracking her down.

"Thank you," Neni says sincerely. "Good luck shaking the kid again," she adds impishly, though as usual without a smile.

“Any time, darlin’,” Max replies with warmth attached and then scratching a thumb to the tip of the head wound that’s starting to irritate he sends Nenienne a conspiratorial wink, “Kid’s easier to shake than mud off boots but he’s gotta start someplace, aye?” Part of being a stablehand is learning to tail people without being seen? Apparently so. “You want that overnight insurance,” the guard at her door that he’d mentioned earlier, “just say the word.” And then with a light touch of fingers touch to the brim of his hat in a gesture of farewell, Max turns and makes his way back to the entrance, a suitable scowl arranging onto scarred features as he calls out, “Alright you little shit, that’s twice. Let’s see if we can go three for three.” As if shaking his shadow is some kind of game to him.

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