Lie, steal and cheat

Participants:

E'ro.jpg Indira.jpg

Date: 2010.07.20
Location: EW - Lower Caverns and obscure passageway
Synopsis: E'ro does as told and arrives at the Headwoman's desk only to find that it is not, as he'd assumed, in an office, with a door, that locks ;)
Rating: PG18 for adult situations and language
Logger: Indira

[ Eastern Weyr: Lower Caverns ]

Set up for use as both a massive storage area and an everyday workspace, the Lower Caverns is a single, high-ceiling room that has been blocked off into several smaller 'rooms' for different work that needs to be done. Over on the northernmost end is a larger section almost completely blocked off from the rest of the cavern where cots are set up for the non-rider folk to sleep until proper dormitories can be carved out of the rock.

[ Exits ]
[KIT] Kitchens
[WS] West Stairs
[ES] East Stairs


Evening of the same day Indira had ‘caught’ E’ro in the kitchens, finds activity in the lower caverns shifting from the usual hive of activity to the slow ebb and flow of people in and out of the area as the day winds down. Winding down for some that is. At a large desk set off to one corner, nursing a glass of whiskey as she works, sits the Headwoman, head bowed over a somewhat large stack of paperwork. With having shut out the goings on around her so that she can concentrate on the work at hand, chances are she won’t be aware of any that approach her temporary office.

Tunnels and hallways, but hardly any caverns, oh my. Time has been spent searching for the Headwoman's office, though fingers have all pointed to the inevitable answer. What kind of Weyr put their Headwoman in a communal space? E'ro has been loath to believe it, but at his wits end, he pokes his head in the lower cavern, blue eyes searching like mad. He finds her there, one desk in a corner in a room that lacks any and all privacy factors. "What the," his baritone hits the air and his forehead wrinkles as his eyebrows furrow downwards. Anything else he has to say is a matter for Indira's ears only - however he will manage to achieve that, with so many people and such a wide open space. "Headwoman," is his grumbled greeting, much like a pissed off feline, "I'm here to see about that favor." Electric cobalt eyes speak volumes about a change in suggestion of that favor; perhaps he'd rather beat her ass?

Stylus scratch-scratching a note furiously into the margin of the document before her, Indira holds up a silencing finger and then drops it to indicate the chair on the opposite side of her desk with a distracted, “Sit.” Whether or not she’s even aware of whom it is that stands there growling and grumbling like a wet feline remains to be seen. Still without looking up, the stylus is set down and the tumbler of whiskey reached for. And now dark eyes sliiiide up the bronzerider before her, “You came,” voice caressing over the words as her mouth disappears behind the rim of the upturned tumbler.

Nerves strained to the point of bursting would have been a problem for anyone else, but E'ro isn't just anyone else. He's lives by the 'I don't give a flying fuck' phrase - all the same, he settles himself in the chair opposite the Headwoman with a bit of attitude, his large hands wrapping tightly around the ends of the arms. His attitude intensifies whenever she looks up at him and pronounces that he "came", to which he looks at her deadpan and says sardonically, "Not yet." It's an audacious answer, one which she should expect from the likes of this bronzerider. "So this is your office, huh?" A derisive glance is passed over the close quarters, his words dripping cynicism, "It's cozy."

Deliberately taking her time about sipping on that whiskey, Indira’s eyes alternate their focus between the blue of E’ro’s and those hands laying tight claim to the arms of the chair. Mmmm, still riled up. How lovely! Eventually the glass is set down, fingers dragging a slow purposeful caress away from it. Laughter rich and husky spills out, the Headwoman’s mouth dimpling at the corners for the bronzerider’s sardonic comeback. She has no verbal return wearing instead the image of a cat licking its chops at thought of a tasty treat. Leaning back in her chair, a smirk greets his cynicism as she glances about, “You think this is cozy, you should see where I sleep!” Pretending remorse a soft tsking comes next, "Aw, are you disappointed bronzerider?"

All she can do is laugh? E'ro's eyes narrow as he eyes the older woman from across the desk. "I was under the impression that your office was a central location. Private. Not in the middle of a cavern, where there's a lot of other weyrfolk loitering about." His attention swivels to a steward, sitting at a desk not far away, with his large, beak-like nose in the air as he talks down to a frightened, former holdless girl. "I'd rather be stuck on watchrider duty than have to come to this forsaken hole again," he growls, flinging his head back Indira's way. It's not often he gets riled up, but she's gotten under his skin and twisted his insides up. "If you don't have a real purpose for me being here, then give me permission to leave because I sure as hell am not going to sit here and watch you smirk all night." Because he has to get his frustrations out somehow and apparently, that won't be happening with this particular tease.

Inhaling slowly, breath expels through lips parted in a cunning smile as Indira leans forward, propping her chin in a hand. “And tell me, E’ro,” husky voice winding like silk around his name, “what about that,” the total exclusion of privacy from the setting, “is making you so unhappy, hmmm?” Tone dropping down a notch, keeping the conversation (if nothing else) just between the two of them, “What would you have done differently if I did have an office all of my own, with a door, that locks?” low laughter once again as she shakes her head slowly, “Oooh no, I think you’re going to stay right there where I can keep an eye on you while I catch up on some paperwork. Wouldn’t want you wandering off and putting numbweed into someone’s shorts.” Let’s hope the Headwoman is in the habit of sticking to well lit passageways.

"Unhappy?" Disbelief imbues the man's words. "I'm not unhappy. I'm fucking irate. I thought we had an understanding," E'ro growls again, this time with less power behind his words, but the power is still there, it's just found higher ground in his eyes. "I'm able to give you certain favors, and we'll forget the whole business about this morning." He moves his hands into his lap, steepling his fingers together, at the same time that he leans forward. "Nothing can be discussed in these conditions, whether they're your suggestions or mine. There's too many ears eager to overhear and I'd rather not get in trouble with either of the weyrwomen." On the last word, his breath hitches and he presses his lips together until they turn white, his eyes blazing fury now. Not only is she holding out on him, she's going to keep him glued to this damn chair is this damned cavern? For Faranth's sake, he might just end up throttling her on the spot, or so his expression says.

“Irate,” Indira echoes, all but savoring the word. Dark eyes snap and glitter at talk of favors owed or to be paid, “You’re able to…give…me favors…” deliberately pausing over that one particular word before continuing on a little further and then going silent as she appears to slip into deep contemplation for what E’ro has said. It’s either the white hot anger spilling off of the bronzerider (mission accomplished?) or his alluding to being willing to carry out tasks not ordinarily deemed above board that finally seems to motivate the woman into standing and stepping around her desk. “Come,” the tousle haired blonde instructs and then sets off toward one of the myriad of passageways leading off the lower caverns, not bothering to turn and see if he follows.

A feral growl gets stuck in his throat as the Headwoman takes off down a passageway, leaving the bronzerider the choice to follow or stay. E'ro looks to his right, spies that big-nosed steward eyeing him imperiously, and he spits back, "What you lookin at?" to which the gray-haired man huffs and turns back to the girl at his desk. "Sharding lower caverns," is the last thing the dragonrider says before heaving himself out of his chair and sauntering after Indira. "Tell me where we're going." It's not a question, a command, as he spots the silhouette of the woman ahead of him in the tunnel. "Or is that off limits too?" There's a sneer in his voice.

Down one passageway, turn a corner and down another until sounds from the lower caverns have faded, leaving just the staccato clip of Indira’s heels ringing out ahead. Silence from the Headwoman until finally she turns, waiting with arms crossed over her chest and one hip thrust out in arrogant, self assured stance, for E’ro to catch up. “Wherever you go, there you are, bronzerider,” she puts out eventually as response to his question, the words echoing and bouncing off of the silent rock. Grabbing the bull by the proverbial horns, “So tell me then, what is it you think you can do for me, hmm?”

The farther they go, the less angry the bronzerider gets. It's as if walking is calming him down, until he gets to the point where he can stop, loop his thumbs in his beltloops, and gives Indira a smirk. "I think we both know what I can offer you. It's all on what you want. Do you need someone to bust up an unreasonable trader? Someone to see a delivery safely made and never found out about? How about something taken without evidence as to who did it? I can give you these, or," and here's the kicker, "anything else you desire. I prefer the baser needs. A toss in the hay, perhaps some champagne, but why do I have a feeling that if that's what you had wanted, you'd have done it already." E'ro gives her a dry look, his blue eyes bereft of anger.

Indira listens, features an impassive mask through most of what E'ro says, lifting a finger from its place amongst the others where they lie on the opposite arm, and tips it his way, "All of the above." -All- of the above? A slow predatory smile forms as she swaggers over to where the bronzerider has come to a halt. Arms unfold and hands lift to curl fingers into his collar, "Good boy," she purrs, mouth moving closer to his and then halting as she murmurs through a low chuckle, "Though I think I liked you better when you were mad." If the bronzerider has any sanity left, he might realize that there is finally, little resistance to be met.

All of the above - hot diggity, he got lucky. Transformation is instant, from petulant boy to self-satisfied man. E'ro gives his shoulders a roll for good measure, as if shrugging away some kind of layer that had been weighing him down this whole time. He's not resistant when she comes close, putting her hands on his collar, and neither does he lean away with her mouth so close to his. "I'll try to please, ma'am," comes his low reply, a mixture of desire and amusement, "but I must warn you again, don't ask me to start conflict between the Weyrs. That, I have a problem with." Of course, he'll steal, lie, cheat, and all manner of others things, just don't make him be "that guy" who started the war between the Weyrs. "Now, which would you prefer first?" Not that it matters, because he'll make that oh-so-hard decision, resting a hand against her lower back and his other hand fisting in her hair. His mouth hovers a space away from her lips a moment longer - letting her absorb his Cheshire grin and gleaming eyes - before it presses against hers, hungrily devouring.

"I'm sure you'll do more than just try, darling," Indira intones, leaning the full length of her body into his. Lie, steal, cheat. The list is carefully filed away before yet another low laugh spills out, "Leave the Weyrs to me, baby boy." She's…not planning on actually starting a war of the Weyrs is she? Dark eyes stay fixed to E'ro as his hand claims her lower back, teeth catching to lower lip for the delightful tangle of his other hand in her hair. Hunger meeting hunger of like urgency and fiercely passionate response. The kind that'll have anyone who has the misfortune to wander down that dimly lit passageway, blushing from the tips of their toes to the roots of their hair. And that, boys and girls, is how you go about ensuring all roads, will eventually lead to your door.


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