auspex_caelo | Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass

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Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass_captain)

Organizing a proper wedding is no small affair even on Earth. In Tamriel, without the benefit of instant communications, instant transport and year-round amenities, it requires a good deal more planning. Particularly when it comes to guests who live any distance away. Roads and seaways alike are dangerous. Bandits prowl the land routes. Inclement weather closes mountain passes and keeps ships in their berths. Everything, above all, takes time.

With spring in full flight, snows melting and roads well and truly open, the excuses for delays in invitation replies and guest arrivals are both running out. Mostly this hasn’t been an issue. The arcane side of their guest list have their own ways of sending word, and the military side have first call on the Imperial courier network. Everyone who matters is accounted for. Except, that is, for one…

In the library of the Bruma house, Stratos leans on a desk covered in papers and rubs his eyes. Another day, another absence of word. Marcella did warn him that her mother would be nigh-impossible to contact. She was almost too resigned to the fact to be grumpy about it. But Stratos had thought his connections would get him where his cousin had been unable to reach. The trouble, he sees now, is that he really can’t be sure where that is.

One guest. Perhaps it’s not a disaster if she can’t be there. But this is his mother’s sister, and they have so few near relatives left, since the War….

And he’s getting worried.

Stratos rises then, and tidies away his writing implements. He heads downstairs to his room and changes into better gear for travelling- not too warm, he doubts he’s going to end up in Skyrim – and then he goes to knock on Felix’s – well, his and Jim’s – door. Nereus is out visiting with Terentius, so there’s nothing else to distract the youngest two, nothing else that ought to be occupying them. And if they’re still resting on the Enterprise - well, he’ll just have to go there and fetch one of them.

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The problem with this game is that it's a relay race more than a sprint. He's played games similar to this in dives all over the Midwest but that was years ago, now. Not long enough that he's forgotten how to ignore the burn in his throat. The roll in his gut when he swallows down the drink as though he needs it to live.

His empty cup clatters against the table hollowly when he slams it down. Got one. It won't be a shutout now, at least. It takes an awful lot of self control not to cough. Jim raises his gaze back up to the Legionnaire.

"Not...just a gentleman." It's not exactly the quip he wants but Jim doesn't have the vocabulary for what he does want to say. It'll have to do. It's only now that he realizes a question is supposed to follow. Felix isn't here. Jim doesn't know what the mage would want to know about his aunt, so long far from home. So he'll ask one of his own.

"What're you getting at, here? Is this really just a game?"

He earns an impressed grunt from Lartia as her mug drops behind his. "Maybe you're a sailor after all."

She takes a moment to draw breath before she chuckles at his question. "Not just a game. I told you, I want to know what kind of man you are. The truth of it, mind. Both the Caelus boys collect secrets like a priest collects alms. I'll wager you're not so different. But it's a lot harder to tell a straight lie when you're soused."

Of course, he could decide to cut and run, hearing her intentions- but that would be as good as declaring he has something to hide. Lartia looks him dead in the eye and pushes the jug his way.

"Your turn to pour."

"Lot harder to remember a straight answer tomorrow when you're under the table, too."

And this is dangerous. Because Jim Kirk has quite a lot to hide and Lartia's bound to find out he's not the kind of man who knows how to quit when he's ahead. He's specifically been trained on how not to give information away though this isn't going to be anything like torture. Jim knows his cover story well and good by now. It's less about even the lies as it is where they are and who might hear. Jim's sure that Felix's family are people that can be trusted.

The jug is still well heavy yet though not so much that he has to get out of his seat to pour their next drinks.

"I thought the whole family did. Collect secrets, that is. Doesn't everyone?" Jim nods toward the jug once he's set Lartia's cup down in front of her again. "We're both going to be glad that that's getting lighter the further in we get."

"Bold to assume you'll be the last down." She takes the cup and shifts in her seat, leaning an arm on the table. "Some people hide who they're bedding, or which floorboard their gold's under. Some people have secrets. Let's go, then."

This time she's not underestimating him. The woman drains her cup like she's been in the desert for a month and slams it back down before Jim's.

"-Hah!" A moment to catch her breath. "My turn then. Just what kind of ship do you run, captain? Merchantman, warship? One of those river barges?" Or, she's wondering, maybe something more illicit.

"I'm assuming we're both going to be well pickled."

Mostly Jim, at that. He takes a breath and steadies himself but he's got next to no chance to even keep up this time. He's still convincing himself to swallow down the drink when her cup clamors against the table. Well, fuck. Good thing he'd gotten one round in at least. The drink hasn't hit him yet--they're drinking too quick for it to--but it won't be long.

"Stendarr's sake...." Jim needs half a minute to catch his own breath. "Oh, that's easy. I'm an explorer. Mapmaker." Setting his cup aside. "The less traveled the better."

"A mapmaker?" That's a good answer, indeed. Lartia can already start imagining where he fits into the picture with either Stratos or his little brother. Felix has never been a seafarer that she knows of, but he wouldn't be averse to sleeping with one if they crossed paths. Jim's dress is about right for it, too. Still, there's something about him- perhaps his unweathered skin and the way he holds himself. She's only glimpsed his hands in the low light but they don't look callused or ink-stained.

He seems like he needs a minute, anyway (and Lartia's secretly not sorry to pace the drinks a little) so she doesn't pour again. Figures he won't object to her pressing the question.

"What, for the Legion?" Stratos has the aura of an officer slumming it; Jim only has the look. "Whereabouts do you sail?"

Not that kind of sea. Jim smiles a little bit the way he often does when thinking about his work. His mission, ship, crew. The Chair. To be able to share that with Felix? Now that's some fortune he never would have counted on years ago.

There's so many little things that mark Jim as Other though. Things that will keep stacking up over time. There's his looks, obviously. But there's also the way he talks. How he always seems like he's seeing something for the first time (despite adapting to the unknown well). His hair is impeccable despite a job that would leave it salt ragged. Even the way he carries himself seems a little bit careless for the world he's in. For anyone truly looking the longer one watches Jim Kirk the more he looks like a square peg trying very convincingly to slip into a round hole.

"Takes..." Fuck what is the word he even wants, it is going to be harder to speak the language the further in to his cups Jim gets. "Buy in, for a big job especially when you're expected to fail, so I've been lending my skills to the lesser traveled areas of Skyrim at the time being. That's how I met Felix." Jim carefully nudges his empty cup back toward the middle of the table. "No place exciting yet. Mapping currents on the Eastern coasts is good work but it's hardly what I'd like to be studying."

Her eyes light up a little when he touches on how he met Felix, but she doesn't ask further. Not yet. Besides, mention of the Eastern coast is pretty interesting to Lartia. She picks up the jug to refill their cups, though she's taking her time about it. Definitely pushing it to see how much she can get out of him in one round.

"What's that, then?"

He knows well enough from maps that everything in Northern Skyrim is ice flows that would make sailing dangerous even under the best conditions. But any other direction holds the dilemma of having countries Jim's not familiar with in between him and the Sea. At that point it's best to just pick one and stick with the lie. Windhelm holds the southernmost point in Skyrim one could get to the ocean and that's problematic because of the Civil War going on within the country. Doing mapwork in Skyrim itself is easier to sell.

He knows the holds by heart now having memorized the maps. He can talk about that. If he has to. He shrugs. He's already said as much but the game does resurface in his head.

"Guess you'll find out later, maybe." Or in half a minute. Jim's really not sure he can slam down a cup anywhere close to as quick as Lartia did the last round. It was even quicker than his first had been.

Jim might as well cut himself some slack and pace himself: the moment she counts to three Lartia's knocking back that sujamma hard. Slower this time, though. Her cup hits the table barely ahead of Jim's.

"Got it!" She calls it out immediately, pointing a slightly unsteady finger at Jim as if he were contesting it. "Got you, sailor boy. S'go on. Spill it." She pauses, reminding herself what the actual question was. She's a little out of breath, but she's definitely starting to feel the drink too. Doesn't help that she started before her nephew arrived. "What kind of mage are you? What's it you study, b'sides Imperials with more books than sense?"

Jim's definitely uttering some Choice swears he's learned form Felix when his cup hits the table after hers again. He doesn't have to touch his face to know it's warm. He's going to start flagging fast. But he's still keeping up, even if he's not quite winning. There's A Chance, is what his brain is telling him.

And having a chance means that Jim's getting far more competitive than he probably should be. That or the booze is talking. Probably both.

"Barely." He grouses, but waits for the question to come. And for once, it's an easy question. One he can answer honestly, even. "I'm not. A mage, I mean. Can't do magic."

"Can't? A nice Breton lad like you?" That's odd. Not unheard of, naturally- just because your people have a talent for something doesn't mean you personally are any good at it. There are clumsy Khajiit and illiterate Imperials in the world. Still, she doesn't pass up the chance to tease, "No wonder you ran away to sea. So what do you study. Want to study."

It can't be her first suspicion, if he's no mage and Stratos approves of him.

"Everyone always seems shocked. Given how magically inclined the whole family seems to be I guess that makes sense. Still feel like I should prob'ly be offended when you ask."

Jim doesn't realize how petulant the scowl he's giving is. It's not actually any surprise that Felix gets along well with him when he makes faces like that. And indeed his attention wanders a moment to looking around them at the tavern they're seated in before she presses him further.

"Alchemy, a bit. Felix's teaching me. Star maps, obviously." Do they have engineering here? They must, surely. He doesn't know the word for it in Cyrodillic though. "I like to figure out how things work."

That's adorable, actually. He and Felix really are two of a pair. Lartia snickers at him, leaning forward on her elbows. "Don't take it so hard. A girl's got to wonder, c'nsidering the company you keep."

His real answer takes a moment to digest, and she looks curious again. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere! So you've a fancy for... being some kind of artificer? Playing with devices? Marcella must love that."

"Nothing wrong with th'company I keep." He's pointing back at Lartia now. He will hear nothing whatsoever ill said about Felix nor Stratos. Not a word of it. Even if he wasn't marrying into the family he's become quite close with both brothers over his years he's spent with access to the Nexus and the people therein.

"Something like that. But there's a reason I work in map making. Above all else, I just want to see things no one has before." His other interests all pale in comparison to the freedom of the Black. The knowledge that his work is breaking new ground with every system they observe. "It's that simple."

"Never said it was bad. Just begs questions, you know?" Lartia eyes him shrewdly, opens her mouth, then decides she won't get away with what she wants to ask. Not without earning it. And maybe she's deciding she likes this one enough not to cheat ~~too much.~~.

"I wager they'd like to see that, too." Especially Stratos. Well, maybe. Depends on what kind of discovery it is. She turns the jug handle around for Jim. See, she'll play fair with Felix's man.

The drink's starting to hit the fair faced 'Breton' and hard. It's not long before the sulk drifts off his face as his reasons for being annoyed slip like water through his fingers. Lartia is here and she's going to come back with them in the morning. This game isn't hurting anything. Jim thinks he might actually be keeping her entertained. He's so good at the whole charm thing. Still got it.

He snorts. "It's kept Felix occupied so far. But he's got his own research to pursue too. Don' want him to get bored." There's a flicker of hesitation when his hand closes around the jug. He shouldn't have any more. Much more at least. One more is fine, probably. Let him just pour (carefully) for them.

Take a breath. He's going to end up spilling some of his drink in his haste to throw it back but it still won't be enough. Lartia has to wait until he's done coughing up a lung to gloat.

"You've got that one right. That's a lad you want to keep b'sy, as I rem'mber it." Even with her darker complexion and in the low light of the lamp hanging above, the Imperial woman looks flushed as she gets merrier. Lartia laughs freely at Jim's coughing, even though it makes her splutter too.

"Take it easy, Cap'n Jim, what- what's the hurry? Gonna... miss your boat?" She chortles breathlessly at her own joke. They both need a second, but then she takes a deep breath and steadies herself on the table. Fixes Jim with a determined look.

"All... all right. Tell me true. How much trouble's... has he gotten you in? So far?"

"Tryin' t'beat you is the hurry!" Jim grumbles around his own coughing fit. He's going to end up taking a third of a cup of extra drink just to clear out his throat. After a minute or so he's got it under control, exacerbated somewhat by Lartia's spluttering as well causing Jim to half laugh half cough.

They're both more or less in order. The silence that falls over the table after she's asks goes on a beat too long. Jim's dropped his gaze into his cup several times already as their game has gone on but this time it lingers there a moment and his thumb traces the lines of magic woven in to his bracers. Magic Marcella herself put there so Jim could help bring her cousin home.

It won't drag out much further though. Jim forces himself to look up with a smile that's well practiced if not a bit lopsided.

"Nothing we couldn' get him back out've. S'all that matters."

Edited 2019-11-16 22:29 (UTC)

Lartia's dark eyes track over him, seeing more than her tipsy demeanor might give away. She's not from Bruma, not subtle by nature, but she's learned to read a lot of smiles over a life of ordinary skulduggery, war and tragedy and rebuilding.

"Bad, huh?" More than Felix's usual fun and games. Worry stabs at her that something's happened, something real- but they're all fine, they wouldn't be holding a wedding otherwise. She raps her fingers idly on the table, focusing through the drink haze. They're fine. And they're here. That's what's important now.

"And you're still here. Stayed by him. Why? Sure that's a good idea?"

The accusation ripples across Jim's posture in a full body tension he's too far gone to hide. There's something fierce in his gaze when he locks eyes with Lartia again. A warning not to dig into this deeper. Or perhaps, daring her to try. Fiercely loyal though Jim may be, he's not fiercely intelligent in this moment.

"No place else I'd choose t'be."

Steel in his voice. He's faced hell to bring Felix back, no way is he letting the mage go now. Not after they've come this far.

Edited (other drunk icon woops) 2019-11-17 16:49 (UTC)

Lartia meets his eyes with a good, long look, steady despite the drink. Trying to read if there's anything more behind his eyes than what it seems. But it feels right. Feels like he isn't lying and couldn't lie, not about this, not if he wanted to. The old legionnaire squints at him as hard as she can and finds no cause for dissatisfaction.

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll do all right, lad." She reaches over and pushes the jug aside- not enough left in it for another cup, anyhow. Takes a bit of fumbling at her side but she can pull out a dice bag. "You know how to play Deceiver's Dice?"

Not that it actually matters, when they're both drunk, but she'll be happy to try and teach him, if not. Either way it should lighten the mood.

Huff.

The more she stares at him the more tense he's become. When Lartia lets the subject go Jim lets out the breath he'd been holding. It takes him a bit to relax though. He's still ready for a fight but there isn't one coming. It's an odd feeling. One that is going to be handily settled with confusion when Lartia pulls out a dice bag.

He's seen Felix carry a bag of his own around but Jim's shaking his head at the question. Felix has never showed him this game. At least not that he remembers.

"Felix carries dice 'round, but I"ve never seen him play."

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Incognito, Incorrigible (for smartass_captain)

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