Participants:
| Date: | 2011.01.19 |
|---|---|
| Location: | EW - Headwoman's Office |
| Synopsis: | Keane suddenly appears in the doorway of her office and sends the usually In Control Headwoman into a flat spin. |
| Rating: | PG18 - For some language and adult innuendo. |
| Logger: | Indira |
Early morning, shortly after the breakfast hour finds the Headwoman having handed out duties for the day, dismissing the last of her staff. The head of storage caverns hesitates a moment, turning back to the immaculately turned out blonde, “Those crates that came in last night. You want me to unpack and itemise them?” A groomed brow arches high, and Indira taps her stylus impatiently against the clipboard lying on the desk before her, “Jeshran,” the patience in her tone thinning as she tells the man for the umpteenth time, “I will take care of any crates that come in and are put into storage room nine. Do you not yet, understand that?” Stifling the exasperated sigh and turning it inward instead. And then she lowers her attention back to the requisition lists in need of her attention, giving the rusty-haired man little more than the top of her head to stare at as without looking up she lifts a hand and fingers flicker toward the door, “Now go away.”
After leaving the Tillekian crimelord and his second-in-command to their own devices, Keane stops a few passing weyrfolks for directions to the Headwoman's office. It didn't take him long, really, the barkeep's joints seeming to take to the warm weather and causing him to walk about in a much brisker pace. After asking another passerby to be sure he was in the right area, Keane makes it to the office and walks in without so much as a pause or hesitation. He was on a mission, after all. He comes upon a scene between Jeshran and the Headwoman … or rather, it's Indira. Indira was sitting behind a desk fit for a Headwoman, and this makes the barkeep stall his steps with his eyes narrowing in shock. He wasn't expecting to run into her so quickly, having just arrived at the Weyr only moments before. The woman he's been writing was sitting right there, speaking to that man in such a voice of authority - something missing in his dealings with her up north. And so, a slow smile curls his mouth and he steps back and takes to leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, listening and watching the scene with interest as he does not yet give himself away.
Being as how that head of hair that’s been scraped severely back from her face and wound into a tight bun, is bent over her work, Indira notices neither Keane, nor the fact that Jeshran is still lingering casting an uncertain glance between newcomer and Headwoman, unsure of whether he should announce the other’s presence or not. Or perhaps, she is aware of someone still taking up office space, for lips thin, “I swear to Faranth, Jeshran, if you’re not out of my office in ten seconds flat, you’re going to find my boot up your ass so fast you’ll not know whether you’re male or female!” The words falling from her lips swiftly as her head snaps up to narrow a look onto the head of the storage caverns only to find him gone and…blink! Indira goes pale beneath the tan living on the southern continent has leant her, her mouth working soundlessly as her heads shakes a little from side to side trying to convince herself she’s not seeing what she’s seeing – one Telgari barkeep that’s…a very long way home. Eventually swallowing slowly brows pitch toward each other in an uncomprehending frown and all she’s able to do is put out a lame, “You’re…not…Jeshran.” No kidding!
Indira's words meant for Jeshran gets deliberately taken to mean himself. Keane watches the man be gone in seconds with only his eyes trailing him out, and then when he finds that narrow-eyed look onto himself - along with those disbelieving words from her - "I think I'm lucky to find myself not Jeshran at this moment, then," Keane drawls, straightening up from his lean and now taking a few steps into the office. He considers closing the door behind him but chooses not to - leaving such discretions up to the Headwoman. His eyes taking her form in now with bare approval in the silence, "I must say, my lady, when I was told where to find the Headwoman of this Weyr, I had no clue it was going to be you." Another step. Eyes drop to her lips, then her eyes again, "I trust you're not too busy to help an old friend out, hmm?" he asks then, an amused smirk lingering for the shock he sees on her face. Yep, he knew she was definitely not going to expect to see him there!
Under any other circumstances, Indira would have had more than a few witty or cutting comebacks. This situation however, has her floored and apparently unable to make her brain work or her mouth to form intelligible words. “Uuuh…he…you…” as so aptly demonstrated. Keane steps further into her office and she freezes, eyes darting toward the door he’s left open as if she might be of a mind to vault over her desk and bolt through it. From authoritative, ready to kick ass Headwoman one second to deer trapped in headlights, the next. Soon she’s clearing her throat and looking away, taking undue care and time about lining the stylus up exactly parallel to the clipboard and the pile of requisition forms in like form. And though lips move as if she’s speaking, no words come out. Finally, with some of the colour having returned, sloe eyes lift a heavily cautious look onto Keane, “Why are you here?” given in a bare whisper of sound.
Catching those eyes darting towards the door, "Shall I close it from prying eyes?" Keane deliberately misinterprets, taking another step forward and placing both of his hands on the back of a chair that's now in his way. Then Indira looks away and he follows her gaze easily to the stylus and clipboard that has her attention. He notes the moving lips, the return of come color to face and the cautious look being sent his way when she meets his gaze again. Silence meets that whispered question, and instead of answering right away he moves around the chair, and the desk, to fall into her personal space. A hand lifting to try and brush the warmth he sees on her cheek, "You know why I am here, Indira," he states in a gruff and lowered voice, all semblance of joking put aside to light an even look onto the Headwoman. "You know why."
"No," Indira puts out far quicker than intended to the offer of closing that door, far too much revealed in that hasty deliverance of that one simple word. And then…Keane's stalking closer and she's trying desperately to shrink herself into the farthest corner of that big wing-back chair of hers that she occupies. Not that it helps any of course. Her only other option, to jump out of the chair and back away from him which she does just seconds after his fingers brush across her cheek sending a jolt of electricity through the woman. Now, with the chair she's just darted from between them, arms come up to hug about herself in a telling gesture of self-protection, tongue flicking nervously across her lips. "You weren't…supposed to come. Just…to write," she nods to that as if confirming how she'd had it all figured out. He'd write for a while and then eventually the letters would stop coming and then she could call him a bastard and go back to her 'safe' little life of hiding behind self-absorbed young bucks and never have to face her deepest fears of hurt and rejection. And then, in some far recesses of her mind she recalls the content of her last letter to him, the conversation had with Jaya and uncertainty once again wells up and filters into the unsettled look that lifts up to meet that disturbing gaze of his. "Keane…" his name spoken in a blend of soft plea and shock for his unexpected presence still at play, "You came…for me?"
Keane could tell that she was spooked. Indira jumps from him once he touches her, the barkeep pausing with a blink - not having expected such a reaction. The Indira before him now was quite different from the one he met up in his bar all those months ago, and he takes in every single nuance of her body language with a slight furrowed brow. Eyes dropping to nervous lips, "You wanted me to come," he states that simply, alluding to the letters she had sent last. Taking a step closer then, deliberate, "I wanted to come see you," he adds in intently, eyes never leaving hers. Another step, then he stops by her now-vacated chair and regard quietly - wondering how best to go about this, not expecting the wary reactions from the wily younger woman. He thinks back to if he had offended her in some way - perhaps his letters were too forward and she thinks he's crazy. Not many younger women get an older barkeep stalking them, if that's what he's doing. Keane frowns at such thoughts, perhaps seeing it from her perspective - or at least thinking that's what it is - and finally takes a step back to keep the chair firmly in between them. "I'm sorry, I, uh …" he appears at a loss, eyes finally dropping from her as he interprets her shock and fear for those very things. "I didn't mean to… uhhh …" Well he's done it now! He looks toward her desk then, and then the office, clearing his throat and speaking in a more formal tone. "Um, I'm here with some friends of mine," he tells her briskly, eyes meeting her lips rather than her gaze for his own embarrassment for his behavior of earlier. "Kelarad and his second will be needing quarters to stay in, as will I. He's here for your son and his cousin, and … he was gracious enough to bring me along down here for a sevenday, so …"
For the time being, Indira stays exactly where she’d backed up to, somewhere between her desk and the door to her private quarters, dark eyes fixed onto the older man and silent throughout as if trying to see into his mind, to divine his purpose of intent. That night. That one all-consuming-can’t-scrub-it-from-her-brain night and the flow of letters that had gone back and forth and brought them to this point where she feels like she’s been set adrift on the wide blue sea without a port to call safe harbour and in all honesty, is just a little overwhelming for a woman so used to being In Control. And so, she says nothing. Does…nothing. Just stands there and stares at Keane. It’s only when the Telgari barkeep starts exhibiting signs of being just unsure and out of his depth that the Headwoman takes a tentative step forward. Inhaling slowly as if come to a decision and then exhaling a shaky breath a hand unwraps from about herself and moves as if to reach toward him, “Don’t…go,” spoken softly, “Please, stay.” Another half-step forward and then she registers what he says at the end about who it is that’s accompanied him and her frame tenses, “Kelarad’s, here? Now? Shit.” That last given flatly as brows drew together in a frown.
When Indira says nothing at all, just standing there and staring at him, Keane was very much feeling like the fool who ate all the cookies before dinner. He wasn't planning on leaving - not until quarters were arranged for him and the crimelord, that is - but he was starting to back away when he hears Indira's stalling words. He remains uncertain, confused, but his steps falter when he sees her stepping forward. He even says quietly, "I'm not leaving." No, he won't. Not until he was certain that she did not want him here. When it registers to her what he was saying about Kelarad, "In the bowl clearing if you wanted to see him," he answers, nodding sharply towards the door now that his gaze meets hers and doesn't waver. "I think they might be looking for something to eat though. We left in a bit of a hurry. Hope you and Max doesn't mind." Yep. Surprise! Eyes falling briefly back on her desk, unsure to bring up the previous and more intimate topic, "Do we pay for quarters here?" he asks then, not sure about how things are done in a Weyr. In fact, this was his first time in one, and he was usually placing such an establishment in the same category as a Hold. Here and now? Very much not the case, he realizes.
The truth of the matter is that despite her initial shock when she’d looked up and found Keane lounging against the doorframe of her office, his mere presence had had her heart lurch in thrill, it still beating wildly and making it a little hard to breathe. Perhaps it’s the confusion that he displays, or the steps he’d started to back away with that draws Indira in closer, shaking her head to wanting to see the Tillekian crimelord. Her steps forward are slow, hesitant, until she stops with just one last step needing to be taken to put her in the Telgari’s personal space. As his attention drifts down to her desk, the Headwoman sets all else aside and lifts a hand to set it lightly to the side of his face if he allows, fingers brushing down along his strong jawline and then curling in under the goatee on his chin, “Keane…look at me…please?” Fear starting to well up and twist in her gut that she might well have just ruined the one good thing she had going in her life right now.
Indira shakes her head and Keane looks so drawn to that small gesture. Even if he's not looking her way, he can feel her moving slowly towards him. Then she's so close to him that it's almost hard to not look at her, and it's her touch - such fingers brushing across his jawline along with those pleading words - that he couldn't look away any longer. The old barkeep's eyes find her own, searching that gaze of hers to see if she truly was upset with him for being there, wanting desperately to pull her close to him, he says low and roughly, "I missed you, woman. I know I'm not supposed to be here, but …" But. Shaking his head, keeping that intent gaze on her as he slowly closes the distance between them, "If you're truly unhappy with me being here, I can go," he tells her then, continuing to search her gaze for any sign or confirmation. "Your last letter … I just had to …" If anything, he begs the Headwoman's apology, frowning and clearly at a loss on what to say despite how he confidently strode into the office earlier.
As much as she’s trying to fight it, and deny it, all she really wants are his strong arms around her, to be pulled in against his chest and feel that same sense of safety she had that night with him. Panic however, rises back up again, unused to feeling so vulnerable around a man and she almost steps away again. Except that just as her resolve to stand firm for what she wants starts to fade, Keane lifts that intent gaze onto her and no matter how much she might want to run, she can’t seem to be able to make her feet move. Mesmerized. One corner of her mouth twitches toward the faint idea of a tentative smile in response to his having missed her. “I missed you too,” Indira admits quietly, almost shyly, eyes slipping away from his and drop to where the fingers of her other hand trace a light line down the edge of her desk. Usually so confident in taking what she wants, she now finds herself awkward and unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, from somewhere she finds her strength and determination and steps right up into the older man’s personal space, pressing her body in lightly against his, “I want you…here…with me.” The hand that had halted with fingers touched lightly under his chin, now slips downward to rest palm flat against his chest, dark eyes lifted to his, searching his face. Decision made and fuck the consequences it seems. It’s now make or break for the woman, the next move his.
When Indira admits to missing him too, it's like a heavy cloud lifts from Keane's shoulders. Straightening up a bit, regarding that shy smile and her gaze slipping away, the old barkeep looks mesmerized by different facets that he's learning from her in one sitting. What seems to take him off-guard is when she presses herself against him so suddenly, the move bold and unexpected despite how she reacted to him when he entered her office, and her words brush his face lightly. Wry, "Ain't going anywhere, shuga," he drawls then, finally letting that roguish smile touch his lips once more. Arms immediately wrap about her, taking her firmly against him as if claiming her for himself and his head dips down as her fingers touch his chest. Her words are enough for him, and for the moment his reasons for entering her office were put aside as he makes the bold movement to lift his fingers to her chin and dips his head to kiss her.
That roguish smile coming off of Keane along with his words has the effect of curving her mouth into a more open smile. His arms going about her and pulling her in firmly against him has a barely audible sigh escaping India, “Stay with me.” Though whether or not she’s meaning during his visit at the Weyr or something deeper might be hard to determine. The light press of fingers under her chin, has her lifting it and soft lips greet his in a kiss that at first speaks to a wealth of uncertainty still at play and then slowly bears testament to the effect he has on her with her hand at his chest slipping up to the nape of his neck and the other curling into the collar of his shirt. Anyone wandering down the hallway, treated to fodder for the gossip mill. Not to mention the wide eyed look thrown their way when her guard poked his head through the door and then discreetly withdrew back to his post.
There's a low and rough sort of chuckle emitting from Keane at the feel of her lips to his once more - it being the torture of dreams for so long. His arms tighten about the Headwoman, for the moment not caring who sees them as he lengthens that kiss regardless of Indira's certainty. He's been waiting long months to do this - to have her by his side and in the flesh - and he was going to get his fill of her lips for the moment. Lips part momentarily, teasing her as he feels her hand curling about his collar with a low moan. It's only then, once the kiss had deepened to the point that that door would certainly need to be closed, that the Telgari barkeep finally breaks the kiss. "Stay, huh … ?" he says breathlessly then, running a thumb over Indira's lips as he tries to regain his composure. There will be plenty of time to make up for lost time - at least a sevenday's worth. "I will stay with you," he drawls, "if you want me to. I've managed to squeeze a sevenday down here thanks to Tillek's favored renegade, my dear." Leaning forward to brush his lips over her cheek, he says low to her ear then, "I hope, for now, that would be more effective than a written response."
Indira still unable to believe he’s actually there, in the flesh and not some sort of cruel dream come to taunt her, exhales the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. A soft whimper escapes, lips parting under his and deepening the kiss in a near possessive manner. With her body singing out with all kinds of urging, she’s a little dazed when he breaks the kiss and ends up blinking up at Keane. Stay? Oh right, stay. Ahem. His tracing his thumb over her lips isn’t helping any in trying to collect her thoughts either and so her hand releases his collar and lays palm flat against his chest in a staying gesture. Those low words then spoken to her ear, draw a shiver from the usually In Control Headwoman. “Stop that…” her voice breaking husky with very little weight to the words, “I’m trying to think here.” Finally her brain kicks in and as much as she doesn’t want to, she steps out of his arms, putting just a foot of distance between them, breathing shallow as she runs a rake of eyes slowly up the Telgari barkeep’s form and then gives a quick shake of head as she catches her mind wandering away again. Clearing her throat, brows pinch together and dark eyes lift a troubled look up to him, “Keane…there’s something you should know about, Olira.”
Low and inviting, "Is the Weyr's powerful Headwoman not in control of herself in the face of such … welcome?" Keane seems to gruffly tease, willing to draw his thumb away but not his hold around Indira's waist. Yeah, he heard that whimper, alright. When she breaks from his embrace he allows it, watching her like a feline watches its prey as she speaks. He's not one to preen before such study and so he doesn't, but he does seem to return that lazy grin to her when she meets his gaze and shakes her head. It amuses him, admittedly, that he could rattle her so, but she does have the same effect on him. He stays where he is when she brings up a former barmaid of his, the man blinking once at the troubled look sent his way. Stepping forward now in concern, "What happened to her?" he immediately asks, assuming the worst being that one of the 'worst' had happened right underneath his roof. "Is she alright. Is it that bastard?" He's not going to elaborate on who that 'bastard' is, too. There's only one man fitting the description as far as he was concerned.
Of course, Indira will never admit to just how easily he rattles her and so she puts a mock frown onto the older barkeep along with a soft tsk’ing sound and toss of head, “It’s going to take more than a kiss to put me on my knees, Telgar.” She’s not however, able to disguise the suggestive invitation in her tone. Ahem. Moving on. When Keane steps in closer to her and effectively breaks that small barrier of distance she’d tried to form between them, the frown is genuine and teeth catch to the corner of her lower lip, “Max is going to need your help, Keane.” Worry for how Kelarad might react upon seeing his cousin in her current condition she delays revealing what that is for a moment or two and then the Headwoman sighs, one hand setting to her hip, the other rubbing at the back of her neck. “She’s pregnant,” flatly given.
Laughter simply meets Indira's initial response, the sound full and infectious. He catches that suggestive invitation easily, the light smirk bleeding through until she brings up her son. He stops his approach toward her at that, his turn to frown a bit when she mentions Max needing his help. He remains silent then, waiting for her to tell him what the problem with Olira was. When she does reveal it, a chin lifts. There really is no reaction from the old barkeep, the man clearly not looking surprised. His chin then dropping in contemplation, "And her crimelord cousin does not know," he figures the dilemma out then after breaking his silence, his gaze falling on her own with furrowed brows. He's guessing of course, it being highly likely that Kelarad does not know that he was going to walk on his very pregnant relative. There's a heavy sigh at this issue, turning from her to face her desk that suddenly becomes very interesting to him. "That's going to be a problem, my dear, but at the same time …" and there's a pregnant pause, the man turning back towards her again, "… not unexpected."
That laughter coming from Keane is indeed infectious and the Headwoman can’t but help to put a flirtatiously challenging grin to him in response for it. The more serious topic of crimelords and their knocked up cousins though, that draws her lips to press into a thin line, “Not unless she’s written him about it, no.” Although the chances are probably good that Flack or any other of the Tillekian’s spies about the place have already conveyed the news to the man. Which in her estimation, is half the battle won and hopefully some of the heat taken off of her son for not having perhaps enforced his will to have Olira get rid of the pregnancy. When Keane turns his focus to her desk, Indira steps in closer to him, bridging the small gap that had still remained and seeking to put a hand to his shoulder if he allows, worry sifting into her husky tone, “You know Kelarad better than I do. Is this…is he likely to take it out on Max?” Because if so, one can be sure she’ll be out the door and off to find her son and warn him of the Tillekian’s presence at the Weyr so that he can prepare himself.
Warming to the sight of the Headwoman's grin, it ebbs a bit then at her words on Olira. Keane shakes her head, "If Rad knows, then he's playing that card very close to his chest from me," he answers, not sure on how connected the man is with the south. "He hasn't mentioned to me once that she was pregnant, and I would think that would be something he would tell me. Still," and he looks back to her desk, "it's possible that he knows. Wouldn't be out of character for him to hold something to himself until he gets some sort of confirmation. Might be why he's here so soon." He can feel Indira close to him now, and when she puts her hand on his shoulder he turns towards her with his eyes on her own. To her question, "He'll be displeased," he answers without hesitation, the old barkeep having gotten to know the crimelord enough to make such estimations. Moving to place a comforting hand on the once placed on his shoulder now, "I doubt he'll place all the blame on your son," he tells her, nodding. "This is Vaputero's deal, not Max's. He'll be upset that neither Max nor his cousin sent word to him on the matter, if anything but I have a feeling that your Max could handle him." And that smirk returns.
That troubled look still in place, Indira’s mouth twists into an unhappy line and she merely nods to what he says on whether or not Kelarad knows or that it might be just why he’d decided to pay the Weyr an unexpected visit, along with another certain unexpected visitor. Not that she’s complaining. Well, not now that the shock has worn off that is. She has no idea why Max hadn’t let the Tillekian know before now but her worry is evident as dark eyes slip away from Keane and back to the open doorway of her office. But with him placing his hand over hers at his shoulder, the woman is apparently torn between going to her son and…staying with the Telgari. Eventually she reaches some sort of a compromise and pulling her hand out from under Keane’s, heads toward the door with a purpose of stride and unintentional sway of skirted hips. Doran’s frame fills the doorway and a quick low spoken exchange passes between the two with the burly bodyguard shooting Keane a look, nodding firmly to whatever his instructions are and then turns on his heel and leaves. Watching after him for a moment, Indira steps back into the office, closes the door firmly and leans her back against it, hands trapped between the door and her butt, “I’ve sent him to try and find Max and warn him.” Though whether or not Doran is able to get to the beast manager before Kelarad does remains to be seen.
Keane's concern for all parties involved - including the current party right here - lingers as Indira pulls away and goes toward the door. He watches that sway of her hips, of course - despite the seriousness of the situation they're speaking of, he really can't help but to stare after her - and then draws his gaze up towards Doran with a slight frown. He meets the look shot his way with a raised brow, and once he's gone and that door is firmly closed behind the Headwoman, "You could have sent me to do the honors," he notes with some faint semblance of amusement, eyes falling briefly on the closed door. Pausing, as if reading her thoughts, "I really wouldn't worry about Kelarad seeking him out anytime soon," he adds then, amusement more evident. "He'll be looking for food, a room, and he mentioned checking this place out before seeking out your son." He'll likely be looking for Flack as well, who was his contact down here. Eyes lingering over her frame as he speaks, "He and Max have a lot to discuss, one can imagine." And so do they, apparently, the man looking as if he was not leaving the office anytime soon.
Despite her concern, Indira’s lips curve into a faint smirk, “I could have.” She agrees on sending him to alert her son. “Could have gone myself too,” that smirk deepening in possible hint of why she hadn’t. She isn’t however, moving from where she is. “Well now, it’ll be a while before he hunts Max down in that case, given that he has to come to me if he’s wanting a room first.” And we all know how ornery the woman can be when she puts her mind to it. Or, was that a double-edged comment intended to hold innuendo? Sloe eyes set a long look over Keane, the slow smoulder in them not hard to miss and then a low self-deprecating chuckle spills out as she catches herself and tries to divert attention away from the fact that she’d been staring. “You’ll be wanting to see, Jaya,” she decides, “She should be down in her bar soon, getting everything straight before opening time.” Trying to side-step what’s currently not being said much?
"Well you do have another guest here that needs attending to," Keane says that with as innocent a look as he could muster towards Indira's crafty smirk. "And as for Rad? That's why he sent me. I'm to get the rooms. Can't really disappoint the man, now could I? I mean," and he shrugs, stepping around the desk as if to approach her, "I can't really go back without some sort of answer from the Headwoman." Oh, what's a man to do? He catches that smoldering look sent his way then, and the chuckle that falls along with the distracting words on Jaya gets a wry "I love the girl, but she ain't my priority right now," he brushes such deflections aside, resuming his slow approach of her with intent. "Got plenty of time to harass Dicori the way she harasses me. Faranth knows she needs it, though, if she's really in love as you had written …" He remembers the letter and its contents, including the part about his Jaya being in love - which was interesting to him, but the last thing on his mind for now. Brow lifting in deliberate challenge now as he figures out what she's doing, "Got anything else I need to know?" he asks then, moving ever so closer to the younger woman pressed against the door to her office as she faces him.
A brow goes up and a slow smile forms for having another guest to entertain and then Indira utters a light snort, “He sure as shit isn’t staying here.” As she’d offered that Keane might do. “It uuh…might take me a while to find suitable accommodations for him though,” nodding in mock gravity to that, “A few hours at least.” Dark eyes set back to Keane, watchful anticipation in them as he rounds her desk and moves toward her. Amusement flirts about her mouth on the topic of Jaya being in love, “Hopelessly so. Even suggested I give him to her as a turnday gift.” Okay, so that’s not quite what the young barkeep’s request had been but Keane doesn’t know that. “And of course, being the generous woman that I am…” words trail away as the older man moves ever closer to her. A soft sigh, pretended at with mournful edges cast to it for what else he might need to know, “I’m a lot older than you might think I am,” hard to hide the impish humour in her eyes despite the grave tone she affects, “In fact…so old that I’ve just found out I have a grand daughter.” Is she really trying to put him off or is she just playing with him?
"He might be more generous if you offered to let him," Keane drawls back in return for that first quip, winking. He even has the grace to look regretful for his hosts, too. "A few hours? Damn," and he shakes his head to that. "That's really a shame for them. Such things can't be helped though." Yeah right. One better hope a certain crimelord on the loose in Eastern Weyr better not bust through the Headwoman's door at this very moment. He continues to step close to Indira as he speaks, her answer on the Dicori woman drawing a raised brow from the old barkeep. "A lover is a far better turnday gift than a dishrag," he notes wryly, alluding to one of the gifts he has given Jaya for her turnday in the past. "You are quite … generous," he then notes, lingering on that last word with a suggestive tilt as he reaches her personal space. To the last though, that gets his hand to lift once he's close enough to do so to try and touch her chin. "Huh, well," he states, finding out that she's now a grandmother, "I think some congratulations are in order, my dear. A granddaughter! Tell me about it." If his hand had reached her chin, it would travel down her neck then before a thumb brushes her lips enticingly.
Keane’s quip draws an entirely wicked light to enter Indira’ eyes, “Why darlin’, I had no idea you were into threesomes. If you’d given hint I might have arranged something…” letting the words trail deliberately. Oh she’s just awful! Putting out another exaggerated sigh for it taking a few hours to find something suitable for Kelarad, “I know. A real shame.” And then shrugging in a ‘What can I do?’ type gesture. Dark eyes widen and she puts an openly amused look onto the stalking barkeep, “You gave her a dishrag?” and then narrow playfully, “You give me a washrag,” deliberately changing the word, “and you’d better be prepared to use it, Telgar.” All kinds of suggestion in that. Once he’s come to a halt right in her personal space, the Headwoman’s chin lifts automatically at the touch of his fingers to it, breath quickening slightly. Low laughter, a little shaky at the edges for the trail of his hand down her neck greets prompt to tell him more of her granddaughter, “You already know about as much as I do.” Only the smallest amount of regret in her tone that’s dropped husky for not knowing more about the child. Oh yeah, if Kelarad comes a knocking now, he’s likely to find more than he bargains for.
Threesomes? There's lusty laughter to that, the old barkeep lifting and dropping his brows in quick succession before drawling out, "I haven't established yet that I'm willing to try anything once?" Keane quips to that in all manners of innuendo laced through his rough tone. Eyes traveling over her, "But I'd be in all kinds of trouble letting the third person be him, or a man for that matter." Yeah, he can play with awful. He's all manner of amusement on the matter of turndays, shrugging and saying in his defense, "It was a rather nice dishrag. Don't worry though," he adds, sinking further in this play of words. "I can be quite creative with my gifts." Yeah, like he was creative in giving Jaya that dishrag. His thumb continues to brush her bottom lip, Indira words on not knowing her granddaughter getting a grunt and, "In time," is all he gives to that, those two words saying more than their meaning in regards to her granddaughter. It's calm in the way that he says it, his free hand stealing close to try and pull her toward him then.
A brow goes up and Indira tilts her head to one side, putting the older man under a shamelessly open study, lips twitching as she fights back amusement and then fails when a rich throaty chuckle spills forth for his comment on preferring the third person not be male. “Don’t knock it ‘til you tried it,” she teases right back. That chuckle deepens into laughter for the dishrag having been a nice one, “Did you embroider pretty flowers along the edges of it then?” Keane’s comeback on being creative with his gifts draws a wide grin, “Oh, I have a feeling you can be.” She takes the reply on her granddaughter with a short nod of head in agreement. In time. Missing whatever else he might have intended with that simple delivery. That hand stealing toward her finds purchase and she allows him to pull her in against him, lips briefly trapping his thumb and then releasing it, all teasing fallen away as dark eyes lift and fit to him,“What are we doing, Keane?” The question asked softly of him.
Amused, "I'll knock back a few bottles before that goes down, shuga," Keane vows, laughter in his voice as well and it lingers on towards talk of his gifts. He merely grins wryly at the thought of him embroidering anything, and once he finds Indira close by the waist, it's her last that gets his more sober silence. He searches her gaze, eyes dipping to her lips briefly before answering, "We're falling, Indira." Might be a strange answer, but at the moment, the words seemed right. Reaching to touch the side of her face, "I intend to get to know you, Headwoman," he states a bit more formally now, those eyes having a heat to them. "Like I've written before. I meant that … if you still wanted to." The hand about her tightening as he adds, "Because letters aren't enough for me, Indira. Because you're the first woman I've braved going Between for." For him, that was a pretty big deal.
There’s something crafty in the amused look Indira sends him in return but she says nothing of whatever might be going through that devious mind of her. With Keane catching her up against him, hands finally come free from behind her and set to his chest with a light caress of movement over his shirt. Eyes drop away from his and she goes quiet for a good few moments. “Falling,” she murmurs in echo of his words and looks up again a faint smile appearing with her cheek turning into the touch to the side of her face. Catching onto the heat in his eyes, lips part and she sways in a little closer giving quietly as she does, “I want to get to know you too.” She doesn’t try to hide the pleased though somewhat surprised smile that his last admission draws from her, “You’ve never been Between before?” And then her own confession, spoken a touch wry, “You’re the first man I’ve written to that…wasn’t working for me.” She and L’min had lived in the same Weyr and as to the others…well, they’d not really been worth the time to her. Hands slide upward and fingers curl about the collar of his shirt as if needing the leverage to draw her mouth close to his ear where she murmurs huskily, “I…never gave your shirt away.” Needing him to know that for some odd reason.
Keane regards that crafty look with interest, the old barkeep desperate to get inside the Headwoman’s head. He’s heard so much about the ways of weyrbred folks, but not even once has he questioned it … until now. “Falling,” he reiterates when she does, his smile turning to something more yearning for at the turn of her cheek. She’s so close, something he had only written about as she admits to wanting to get to know him too. Of course that pleases him – it was something he wanted to hear her say, not write. He continues to hold her against him, just reveling for now in the feel of her close presence to him – something that he was only dreaming about since the day she had walked into his bar. “I’ve been Between once before,” he murmurs, his gaze searing through as he continues to brush his fingers along her jaw. “I promised myself never again. Then I met you.” Simple as that. Her own confession causes him to smile more, responding back to that with, “Your letters worked more effectively than the hottest fireplace, my dear.” He feels her finger, and then her mouth is close to his ear and he closes his eyes through her murmured words. Wry, “That is good,” he returns, turning his head to drop a kiss to her cheek. “It’s a good shirt.” His lips draw close to hers then, teasing as he adds in, “I know you have a busy schedule this morning,” he drawls in, his voice husky against her own as his hand tightens more about her. “But perhaps I can have a moment of your time?” The Headwoman could interpret that however she sees fit, the old barkeep allowing her to with that raised brow of open suggestion. He wants to get right in to getting to know her, for sure. He also is finding it extremely hard to concentrate and keeps his hands off of her at this moment. And he realizes that he’s hungry.
All Keane gets in return is an enigmatic smile which really, could mean anything. Poor man. That smile fades into something softer, more vulnerable as she searches eyes, “Don’t…let me fall.” Which might be a contradiction to his reiteration but is meant in an entirely different way. He’d written it, told her he’d not hurt her or toy with her but writing such words and making good on them are two completely different things in her mind and so the edges of wariness still remain and war with her wanting to just give herself over entirely to him. Indira is however, unable to tear her gaze away from his a flicker of a smile appearing, “I promised…never to give another man a chance and then,” her voice drops to a bare whisper, “I met you.” His comment on the letters she’d sent him draw a low laugh and fingers of a hand trail up from his collar and round to the nape of his neck where they flirt lightly over his skin. “Yours kept me awake at night,” the immaculately groomed blonde gives with a margin of teasing accusation in her tone. Lips part and breath is pulled in sharper than she’d had time to hide when he kisses her cheek. To have him so near after these months and not give into her baser instincts was proving to be a test almost beyond her limits of control. A light flush does however darken the skin of her cheeks when he comments on his shirt. Well, it might have once been a good shirt. Not so much now that she’s, ahem, modified it with having had to sew the sleeves back on again. So Keane might mistake the blush for something else. Drawn back from the memory of how she’d taken her confusion out on the poor item of clothing, Indira sets a slow and suggestive smile up to the older man, “You can have me for longer than just a moment, darlin’.” Leaving the ball entirely his court. Just as well he hadn’t told her he was hungry for one could bet she would have taken that the wrong way. Purposefully so.
“I won’t,” comes unbidden to Keane’s lips on not letting her fall, the man regarding the vulnerability he sees there in her gaze. He finds the wariness easily enough, too, but he reassured himself that in time, he would prove himself to her. He gives her a smile of pleasure at hearing she was willing to open herself to him, leaning forward and dipping his head into the crook of Indira’s neck as if her nuzzle her there. Low, “I’m glad you’re willing to give me a chance, Indira,” he says in response, honesty in his tone. “I know … it must be hard for you. It’s hard to love again.” Meeting her gaze, “After Regane died, I was willing to give women a pass. Didn’t see the point, after her.” Until now. Talk of their letters – her answer on his own – draw open and easy laughter from the Telgari. “I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t pleased that they have,” he notes towards the teasing accusation, winking. “Perhaps that was my intention.” He catches that light flush with interest, and the answer on taking more than a moment of her time proves to be too much for the man. Pulling her closer to him and murmuring huskily against her lips then as a free hand travels down her body, “Then you’re mine,” is all he answers roughly to that before kissing her soundly, making it clear that right now, everything else can be thrown to the winds for this long moment with his Indira.
Silent for many a long moment after he gives his reassurance and then Indira slowly swallows and nods in acceptance thereof. The tremor that goes through her when Keane nuzzles into her neck like that, is hard to disguise, eyes slipping closed a moment as she tries to draw on humour and murmurs huskily, “Don’t fuck it up.” That doesn’t last beyond his opening words on his dead wife and she’s lifting her head to seek his eyes out, “You loved her.” She states softly, a hand lifting to stroke against the side of his jaw, “I’m sorry you lost her.” Well, to be truthful, she’s sorry for whatever pain losing his wife must have caused him to swear off woman, but not sorry that now leaves him free (so to speak) to be with her. Of course, she’d never say as much. The moment of solemnity passes and she passes a wryly amused look up to the older man on the intent behind his letters, another low chuckle given, “Then I can honestly say that…you achieved your objective, Telgar. Shall I tell you how…” Pulled in closer against him, his lips brushing against hers as he claims her for his own, has her losing her train of thought entirely. With a soft sigh of surrender, arms lift and wrap about his neck, her hips leaning into his. “All yours,” she agrees giving herself over to the heat of his kiss with a soft whimper of need. Work? What work?
Jennifer Lopez - Do It Well