Of Turndays Misunderstood


Jaya.jpg Jonavan.jpg

Date: Jan. 1, 2011
Location: The Bar, EW
Synopsis: A tired Jonavan stops by with a tampered letter from his sister. The topic of upcoming turndays is discussed along with their usual banter.
Rating: PG-13
Logger: Jaya

The evening is winding down towards closing, but there's still plenty of patrons about - mostly of the dragonriding sort - trying to finish up their drinks or hit maybe just one more game of cards. Hayli and Suli are doing their usual rounds while Shijan is at his post by the entrance, his gaze lingering for the most part in the barkeep's direction. The barkeep meanwhile is behind the counter deep in idle conversation with one of the dragonriders sitting there, the dark haired man appearing animated in his tale and having her tossing some or other amused comment in his direction for a jaunty response.

Jonavan darkens the doorway and crosses the threshold, giving his nod to Shijan but no more than that tonight, perhaps silenced from jibe given the later hour. Tiredness sits in the faint shadows beneath his eyes, and with this man tired is often twinned to moody. He isn't scowling though, not yet, as his gaze sweeps past Shijan to see if there's anyone present who'll try to hold him accountable for absconding without pay; the guard he recently met isn't among the patrons, but he watches to see if Hayli's been charged with bringing him to justice. Jonavan approaches the bar and, without hesitation, interrupts the dragonrider. "Hey." This for Jaya. "Letter for you."

Shijan gives Jonavan a bare nod, his eyes trailing after the healer oddly enough as he passes him. Hayli catches him passing by but is far too engaged to say anything, and once he's at the bar the dragonrider looking to launch into another one of his stories appears taken aback when he can't do so. He eyes the healer mid-sentence when Jaya looks Jonavan's way, her fingers stilling over a glass she was about to pour into when he interrupts and mentions a note. Straightening up with a look towards the dragonrider, "Hey," she sends back, faint curiosity coloring her tone before nodding towards the healer once she meets his gaze. "From who?" she asks then, having now been used to getting letters through middle-men throughout the Weyr and as such, the query is normal for her.

Jonavan's disregard for dragonrider is complete; he doesn't even glance at the other man to acknowledge the snub with faked guilt or superiority as he upstages him. "Evie," the healer answers briefly and produces the letter, holding it out across the countertop. The seal's been broken.

The dragonrider leaning back and set to watching with his drink, "You alright?" Jaya's not taking the letter right away, her gaze remaining firmly on the healer as she finally detects some of his mood. When she finally does look down at the letter and notices the seal broken, a brow immediately lifts and she fits a long look onto Jonavan again before adding, "Seal's broken, I see. I take it you couldn't help yourself, and so you've read something…unpleasant?" She's now chalking his demeanor up to that, and she finally moves forward and pulls the letter from his grasp by two fingers.

"Nothing a long sleep won't heal." Jonavan slides to a stool and perches there with one foot still on the ground, deciding to wait a moment rather than leave as abruptly as he came. "What?" he responds to her guess, not immediately following the train of Jaya's thought. "Oh, no, nothing like that." He doesn't say what it is about, though has indeed read the correspondence. Evie's letter even predicts it towards the beginning: Jonavan's probably read this because he has no respect for anyone's privacy so feel free to give him a smack on my behalf as well as yours. Jonavan, when sitting, made sure to pull the stool just slightly out of range.

Regarding that fatigue in his eyes when he sits, "Get plenty of it then," comes Jaya's official 'barkeep' advice as it is, the wry smirk there and gone as the note now has her full attention. Letter gets unfolded and smoothed right there in front of him, those words on privacy getting a snort. Eyes lift to find Jonavan indeed out of range though, and she briefly sets the letter down to give him a pointed look. "What, want to make sure she's saying all good things about you?" she seems to tease, fingers lifting as if she was at least contemplating on giving him that smack. "You can't possibly be that paranoid as to read through a letter that probably is talking about, I dunno, our favorite color panties…are you?" Can't fault the girl for her cheekiness, right? And even the listening dragonrider sniggers at that as he drinks.

Jonavan gives Jaya a mock-salute for the advice given, and this his hand drops to his knee. He watches Jaya begin to read, watching with faint anticipation when she reaches the bit referring to him and lowers the letter. "Do I have to be paranoid to be curious?" A glimmer of amusement momentarily breaks through the fatigue. "Have you got a favourite panty colour to report, then?" The letter continues with bubbliness rising up through the page: an explanation that Evie missed Jaya the seven she was gone but hoped the barkeep was well-rested with frond-waving Southern boys at her beck and call; that work keeps her away this sevenday, but she's typically coming every sixth with the following her restday; and that she's heard that Jaya has a Turnday approaching and wants to know what she wants from the North. Tell my brother and then he has no excuse for not getting you something too, Evie irrepressibly directs before adding her signature.

"Not so sure with you," Jaya admits in her answer to Jonavan on the line between paranoia and curiosity. "You might have to be curious to be paranoid." It makes sense to her anyway. His question on panties has her tapping an edge of the letter to the bottom of her chin as eyes roll to the ceiling in mock contemplation. "A favorite panty color?" she echoes that as if he had just asked her a serious political question. "Hmmm. Well, when I bother to even wear any-" and the dragonrider gives her a leery look for the crass remark before one of his buddies arrive and takes away his attentions "-I would usually go for something in a warm tone. I think." She could very well be lying too. Eyes go back to the letter then to finish reading it, a brow lifting at something written, and an amused snort given for something else there before the barkeep nods once and finally folds the letter back up. Slipping it into one of her pant pockets once it's folded again, "I'll have to write her back," she says, returning to the glass and her work. "I'm choosing a different deliverer, though," and with that, she sends Jonavan a look for his seal-breaking. Silent after a moment, "I don't usually celebrate my turndays," she adds then with some non-chalance, setting her regard on him. "I'm shocked enough that I'm making it to turn 19 with just a scar and no guards on my back." Well, there's Solak and his men, but… "Usually drink myself sloppy, scream obscenities to my not-here father for making it another turn when he said I couldn't, and pass out hopefully somewhere in the vicinity of my bed. Don't ask for much. Why does she want you to get me something?" she tacks the last on without pause, as is normal of her. "And why is she getting me something? She doesn't have to, you know."

Jonavan gives Jaya a curious look for her reply, but without answer, the verdict is out on which quality takes primacy. He opens into a grin with Jaya's contemplation on underthings, less lascivious than the rider nearby but more outwardly amused. "At least you're not barkeeping in Ista with their ugly orange. You might be tempted to wear that." Jonavan waits for her to finish, watching, and when Jaya looks up he is unrepentant for his nosiness. "Oh that sounds fun," he says dryly for the young woman's Turnday tradition. "Did you forget to add the part about waking up in a pool of your own vomit?" Jaya's question about his sister draws another in answer. "Why wouldn't she? You've met her. She's the very definition of magnanimous." Sarcasm clouds the transparency of his brotherly affection.

Making a brief face when Jonavan mentions Ista, "Got a nice renegadelord out there, but I'd still rather take my chances here than there." Snorting at that and shaking her head, and Jaya finishes the drinks she makes and passes them over towards a waiting Hayli. Hearing the dryness in his tone for her traditions, "Usually is," she remarks, deliberately sounding chipper about it. "I break out the good stuff on my turnday, and I don't wake up in my own vomit. That only happens when I'm pissed drunk. There's a difference." Clearly, to her. Meeting his gaze once Hayli is gone, "I'm not very, ah, sentimental about such things," she explains on turndays, though her eyes flicker briefly towards her bodyguard at his post. "Turndays. Never had time for them before." Before she became a fugitive, that is. "What do you do on yours, anyway?" she asks then to take the attention off of her, though she does comment wryly on his last in regards to Evie: "She's sweet. She shouldn't waste a gift on me." Not on a criminal, but she's not going to say that directly.

Interest sparks when Jaya mentions one of the renegades in tones that suggest familiarity. "Nice is just what springs to mind when I think of the renegade hoards." The last word is wordplay, a deliberate mishearing. "Excuse me, I'll be more careful about the distinctions between sloppy drunk and piss-drunk," Jonavan says, facetious in his response. He notes the direction of Jaya's shifting regard but doesn't ask about it, though the nature of her relationship to her bodyguard always pricks his curiosity (or nosiness, or paranoia, depending on one's viewpoint). When the question rebounds onto him and his habits, the healer takes a moment to decide how to answer and chooses to remain wry. "Similar, drunk without the same heights of father-hate." There's no telling how much truth is in that answer. On Evie, Jonavan looks at the barkeep directly to state, "You try telling her that. She'll do what she wants." Which seems to mean giving Jaya gifts. "You don't have the proper attitude," he decides. "Someone gives you a gift, you take it. Can always resell it later if it sucks."

"Some are misunderstood," Jaya notes sardonically on the crimelords, but one can say that she could be lying. Misunderstood. Right. "Similar," she repeats then, regarding the healer with some interest before putting forth, "I haven't seen you sloppy-drunk. Who gets that privilege?" Pause. As for his sister and gifts, there's an amused snort and the barkeep leans a little on the counter to regard the man and his words in the pause. Head tilting slightly as she studies him, perhaps to make him a bit uncomfortable, "All I said was that she shouldn't," she notes, a brow lifting briefly. "I can't stop her if she wants to. Anyone, really. And no," and there's a crooked smile touching her lips now, "I don't have the proper attitude. What other girl you know drinks herself sloppy on her turnday? And here I thought I was being special." Dramatics show her shaking her head with a sigh, looking rather disappointed for the moment.

Jonavan looks amused at Jaya's remark on the crimelords; it's the sort of thing he would say. "No-one," he says a bit shortly to her question on privilege, shifting so that the toe of each boot is hooked behind the lowest rung on his stool. "That's the sort of thing that stays behind closed doors. What would people say?" The question's sardonic. When has Jonavan ever demonstrated that he cared about what people say of him? "You know drinking's bad for you, after all." The nod towards his craft comes out with an ironic humour. "You can have that honour," he assures when Jaya turns on the theatrics, scooting his stool forward so his elbows can touch the bar. "But you still haven't said what you want. Even if it's something thoroughly nontraditional like a drinking partner or an effigy of your father to burn."

Giving the man a playful shrug, "As if you give a shit what people say," Jaya notes openly there on what stays behind closed doors, regarding him in amusement. His note on her drinking gets both brows to lift this time, the barkeep sending looks all over the bar before meeting his gaze and spreading her hands out from her sides in a show of arrogance. "A bit too late for that announcement, you think?" she returns sardonically, though that amusement never fades from her voice as well. Hands drop back down and she steps forward to add promptly, "You might as well indulge yourself in my poisons if you're going to stick around," with an enticing drawl, running a hand over an empty glass not yet put away as if to get the man to order something. But then there's talk of her turnday, and she lets off the banter long enough to actually give it some thought this time. With a twitch of shoulders as she tries to answer, Suli coming by with dirty mugs to be cleaned in the pause, "You think me a holdgirl," she notes then, dropping her chin at him. "I don't know. I mean, anything's better than a washrag, right? I could ask for someone's decapitated head, but that would be asking for too much." Yeah, a specific person at that. "So surprise me. Tell your sister to surprise me."

"I have my professional integrity to maintain," Jonavan raises as a point of protest, sitting up straighter as if the same uprightness can be attributed to his character. Of course, Jaya's following remark shows that he's already vacillating. "Well, people would riot without it. So your bar's providing for the social health of the population." The man, for once, seems capable of withstanding temptation, for although following the gesture of Jaya's hand, he shakes his head a moment later. "One drink and I'd be face-down on your bar tonight," he admits, making reference to his resurfacing weariness before smothering a yawn. It doesn't stop him from adding, "And then Suli would have her wicked way with me and I could never set foot in here again." He times it just prior to the barmaid's arrival, and even if she didn't hear the remark, the look of smug mischief is enough to alert that something was said. "I'm just the messenger tonight." He droops a bit closer to the counter and gives Jaya a look. "You, holdgirl? Day that dragons' wings drop off." A faint chuckle in the back of his throat follows the barkeep's real Turnday wish, though he comments, "Grim. Careful though on the surprise, you're leaving yourself open to horrible Ista-orange. I'm telling Evie all the wrong things. When is it, anyway, so we have time to come up with things truly awful?"

“Yeah, and so do I,” Jaya drawls on professional integrity, which could probably attest to all of her drink, right? Riiight. “And of course, I provide in a such a way. If I did not open up a bar here, all of you would be dying without me. Dragonriders would be open to being robbed left and right at all the faraway shady bars they frequent, leaving them at my mercy …” Hands flutter about for dramatic effect, showing the tragedy of such a alternate reality. “I’d say I and my whiskey have done wonders for this place.” Jonavan declines the offer of a drink then, his words on her barmaid drawing a loud snort just as Suli arrives. No, she didn’t hear the remark, but she’s giving the healer the eye anyway. She was certain he had said something inappropriate regarding her again … Jaya smirks her way, then at him for his remark on her being a holdergirl, and his answer on her turnday wish gets a dry, “That’s alright. If I get that horrible Ista-orange, I’ll just rewrap it and give it to you for your turnday. It’s the least I can do.” Suli gets a wink for the return banter she gives, and Suli’s off with dark look in Jonavan’s direction. As to the last? “A month from now, about,” she finally reveals, amused at his response. “You both could just save all the surprises and just get me a bottle of good Benden red. Real good vintage, too. Might have to get in bed with a vintner to do so though.” And she gives him a brow raise at that.

"So one way or another you end up with their marks?" Jonavan sums up Jaya's scenarios, voice lifting at the end to make it a question. The look he gives Suli in return is wide-eyed and slightly indignant that she suspects him. As the barmaid heads away again, he makes his retort. "My turnday's past; you'd have to wait til another Turn comes around, and then it'll be in fashion and the satisfying retribution will be lost." Jonavan looks thoughtful when Jaya proposes the red wine and the vintner that goes with it, resting his chin on his fist in a pondering pose. "Have to," he repeats, turning it into something tragic with a long sigh. "Life is difficult. You are difficult. Who says I'm getting you anything anyway?"

Twitching a shrug, “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” Jaya answers his question with a question, amusement lingering in her gaze. With Suli gone and Jonavan talking on his turnday already passing, the barkeep lets out a sigh of mock-regret as she flaps a hand at him. “Just my luck. Guess I’ll have to give it as a token of friendship then. I think on my toes like that,” and she taps the side of her head with two fingers, alluding to her being slightly un-hinged – but he probably already knows that by now. She straightens up then and sets to cleaning out the deposited mugs when the healer notes his last allowing herself a single nod of acknowledgement to his words on her being difficult. Wiping a washrag through a mug, “I am trouble,” she adds to that, briefly meeting his eyes, “but this shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. Did I say you were getting me something for my turnday?” She actually pauses on that one, going through what she had said before and finding the culprit words. “Ah. My mistake. You knew who I meant. Your sister.” And she goes back to cleaning her mug as if the pause hadn’t happened. “The letter,” she adds then, meeting his eyes fully now with a brief smirk that comes and goes some. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to write her soon. I’ve been meaning to send out a letter to my sister while I was at it, but I’ve haven’t had much time since getting back.”

"You do do a good job of taking my money." Jonavan's grumble is mild, complimented by the roll of his eyes at the woman's following words and gesture. Another yawn from him acts as the prompt to begin his departure by slipping from the stool he's commandeered at the bar counter to talk to Jaya while she works. "It bears repeating," Jonavan says of Jaya, troublesome and difficult, with a touch of stubbornness that makes him look down at her from his greater height. "I did offer an effigy," he remembers then, a slight relenting. He pushes the stool in as a rare gesture of courtesy, tucked out of the way where it won't trip anyone. A nod to acknowledge the spoken thanks, then he says, “Take your time - she gets all her mail in one big pile at Hall anyway, since she's running around the rest of the time saving Pern from itself." One last yawn is his signal to go seek his bed.

“I don’t see you complaining all that much,” Jaya quips for his first, though now he does. “Next time I’ll serve you klah or water and see how you like it.” Cheek smile greets that before she catches the yawn and continues to clean the rest of her mugs. Jonavan’s next comments earn a mere snort from the barkeep, her arms working before she says, “Uh-huh. You don’t need to get me anything, Jonavan,” she adds then more soberly, looking over his way. “I can’t protest your sister, according to you, but I can try with you. Unless you want to, you know, get me that bottle. I’ll suffer through your generosity then.” She nods to the words on mail but makes no comment, the man yawning again sending a wry, “Get to bed, shuga. Won’t have you blaming me and my bar for your poor performance tomorrow.”

"Sometimes I throw darts at your likeness," Jonavan says, but his retorts are losing their power when yawning wrecks his straight face. "I'm upgrading to knives like you taught me." As Jaya goes back to the subject of gifts that need not be given, he shakes his head slightly and waves a hand at Jaya to dismiss her protest; like he said about his sister earlier, he'll do what he wants whether she likes it or not. "Not generosity. I'm completely selfish." Which is pretty true. "And I like burning things. And drinking things. And making people cringe at things in bad taste. So who knows, maybe you'll get all three." His tone makes the last comment a threat before, acquiescing to Jaya's good sense and the weight of his eyelids, he mumbles "Night" and goes.

“Didn’t know you cared,” Jaya tosses back sardonically to his throwing darts at her likeness, though her amusement doesn’t abate at his upgrading to knives. She won’t protest any further on the topic of turnday gifts, simply rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Knock yourself out, shuga,” she simply says to his last when he departs, the dragonrider turning back once his friend leaves as well and continuing on with her on some or other topic that got interrupted when the healer first arrived.

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