Forums » General Roleplay » The IC Chat. Come One, Come All!

The shudder that should have run through the being wouldn't come as Ainsel held her still, "Yss!" She blurts out, her name wasn't Ainsel. Those words escaping her mouth made no sense to her she didn't know where they were coming from and the worry was starting to change her somewhat.
Ainsel the essence wasn't able to quite keep with the changing, holding her and following the changes was keeping it occupied. So when it was startled by the bartender's sharp glare at her and flew backward Ainsel was the only thing left floating above the chair. It was still in the same shape as the creature that had just left but a black shade.

He was slightly taken aback by her response, mostly because he wasn't quite sure what a Naga was. Still, she had said that she was human, or at least mostly human, and had given her name. Relyn interpreted that as an invitation to talk.

"I am Relyn Varsyn, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sam."

He stood, placed his right arm over his chest, and bowed low; it was the customary show of respect on his planet. Afterwards, he sat down again.

"Would it be a great inconvenience to you if I inquired about humans? Jack never answers my questions about Earth or humankind."

Sam's right brow quirked, the left too slow to make it up before they fell at the Relyn's bow, the drifter's right hand darting to her pistol, though she had doubts about being able to put someone as big as Relyn down without plenty of distance and a hunting rifle. Startled as she was, Sam didn't draw, and her hand didn't even actually touch the revolver. Awkwardly, she half rose in her seat and reciprocated the gesture, even if she didn't understand it. "...Go ahead. I ain't exactly a fount a' information on the human race, but you're too big to hurt for askin'."

Arthur stepped in, his flat eyes scanning the area briefly before he made his way to the bar, finding himself a slightly out of the way spot to sit. A word to the bartender, and he shortly had himself a tall beer, followed surprisingly quickly by a small pepperoni pizza. Locating a knife and fork, the tweedy antiques dealer settled in to enjoy his lunch, though he had some thoughts on business to attend to.

His face lit up at the gesture.

"I do not believe my eyes! Jack had told me previously that humans do not show respect in that manner, but rather by shaking the corresponding hand of their conversation partner. Have you associated with Terisians before? I was under the impression that I was the first to leave my planet in a very, very long time."

Across the room, Jack was sitting at a table by himself. Relyn appeared to have forgotten about his companion.

Sam's mind was still a a little foggy from the previous drink, but as he fresh cider arrived, the chill helped clear her head some. As it stood, though, there was still incredulity in the good half of her face. "You really ain't from around here, is you, Relyn. Yeah, human's just shake hands most times, or wave if it's from a distance. Your bowin' is a whole lot of formal that folks just don't do anymore. That's courtly an' royal type of stuff. Common people jus' don't do it."

(Crap... Screwed that up)

Relyn nodded, Jack had told him much the same thing, albeit in a different dialect. On that note, Sam's way of talking interested the alien; he wracked his mind trying to think of what he knew about human forms of speaking.

"Jack tells me that there are different ways in which humans talk; he says that there are even different languages which use separate alphabets on your planet. From what region do you hail, Sam?"

Arthur caught sight of the man at the table by himself, the Norseman's lifeless gray eyes taking in the manner of the gentleman's suit, bringing a smile to his face. "Nice suit..." Of course, Arthur's was cut in almost exactly the same way, maybe from a time period only five years before, though there was something about it that said 'original' as opposed to 'retro'.

Sam gave Relyn a bit of a look, then slowly gave a small shrug and a nod, sipping from her cup as she relaxed into her chair. "I hail from no real part. I wander around a lot, and most times I avoid people. If you really wanted to try to pin it down, I'd say that I'm from West of here, and South of other places."

Jack raised an eyebrow as he looked at the newcomer. This wasn't who he was expecting at all; the paper had said the contact would be short and Slavic in appearance. Still, the presence of the man in the old suit gave Jack a certain peace of mind; he got the feeling that he could relax around Arthur, or at least not worry so much about starting a bar fight. Jack took a drink from the bottle and pushed the chair across from him with his foot until it stuck out from the table.

"Thanks, mac, I had it made special for me. Looks like you got a good tailor, too."

Relyn realized that he wasn't exactly sure what those directions meant in the context of his location, since he had never seen a map of Earth or any of its continents. Embarrassed, he nodded without responding to Sam on the subject; the smalltalk had been helpful in eliminating any remnants of the dispute, but he still had many pressing questions on his mind. His modesty, a peculiar thing in its own right, prevented him from asking anything substantial of Sam; he didn't want to appear too nosy or prying, but on the other hand he wished to avoid driving away the only other human he knew in this place with simple questions. He decided, against a good portion of his better judgement, to pursue a more serious question.

"I hope you will not think me impolite, Sam, but I must know how you humans manage with your lifespans; Jack tells me you only live to be seventy or eighty years in most cases. That seems to me a tragically short number of years to do anything in."

Arthur was certainly neither short nor Slavic, and though he hadn't had any intention of lingering over lunch, found himself flashing his ever-ready charming smile and nodding, taking his beer, his pizza, and his silverware to the table to join the gentleman.
"Arthur Step." Said the Norseman by way of introduction as he seated himself, taking a moment to situate his lunch before sawing off a bit of his pizza and sticking it with a fork. "And if you know a tailor that can make a suit with a proper snug coat and some Oxford Bags, I'd like his number." There was a pause then, as the antiques dealer remembered that he wasn't far back enough for such comments to have made much sense, and he prepared himself for the odd look he was sure to receive.

(OH FOR PETE"S SAKE!)

Jack's reaction was less dramatic than what could have been expected; Hawley had told him once about Oxford Bags, which is about the only useful thing the man had ever done as far as Jack could remember, so he smirked and flicked out his butterfly knife to cut off a piece of the pizza and nibble on it.

"You'd have to go across the pond for those, bo; I know a guy, real slippery Brit, who likes those kinda pants, and he'd be the one to talk to about that. Well, that is if he weren't a sadistic killer who'd just as easily slit your throat as look at ya. Say, this is pretty good stuff, where'd ya get it from? Lombardi's? Totonno's?"

The drifter found herself a little taken back by the giant's comment, and she gave him something of an odd look, made odder by the fact that only one half of her face moved with the expression. Thinking for a moment, she took another sip of her cider, then sighed. She was talking, and talking was mighty thirsty work, especially to someone who didn't talk but hardly at all. And she was doing a LOT of talking to the giant. "Look at it this way, Relyn. How boring do things get where you're from? Time passes the same, right? If we're eatin' off the same pie, it don't matter much how big the slice is, as long as it's good pie, right?" Realizing that what she had said didn't make much sense, the woman waved her left hand as if to erase the words from the air. "Ne'er mind that. I might live fifty more years, or I might not make it out of this bar. Thing is, I ain't takin' nothing with me when I leave, and whatever I managed to get done, is done."

It wasn't the reply he had been expecting, and most of the response had left him confused; however, he had picked up on one thing that Sam had said.

"You had asked how boring things get where I come from?"

Jack had asked him something along the same lines much earlier, the only response the man had ever deemed significant enough to give to one of Relyn's many questions. They had been coming back from a day at the library, where Jack had been explaining some of the many inventions that humans had come up with in the recent decades. Relyn, amazed by how much had transpired in what was, for him, a very short time period, had inquired of Jack how humans can do so much with so little time. Jack, in response, had asked him whether his people just sit around all day.

It was intended to be sarcastic, but it hit closer to the truth than Jack could have known; people on Teris, with their lifespans of a thousand years or more, seldom had the drive to do anything immediately. While the people would go about their jobs normally, things like inventions and new concepts often took decades or even centuries to create.

Relyn's face dropped at the realization that his race was severely hindered by their immense lifespan.

Arthur didn't so much as flinch when the gentleman helped himself to Arthur's meal, though he did spot three ways to have disarmed him. Old habits die hard, after all, and Arthur's old habits had kept him alive, more or less, for a very long time. "I try to avoid slippery Brits. They have a tendency to stab you in the back." The Norseman's grin was humorous, but he still got phantom tinges from that particular experience.
"And the pizza came from the bar, along with the beer. And I prefer Dona's, off Eighth. Considerably more authentic than Totonno's."

Sam narrowed her eyes at the big man after he fell silent. Even with all her considerable social graces, the drifter could tell that something about the comment deeply troubled him. "Hey! Relyn!" The stiff and hard fingers of her left hand made quite the sharp snap in front of the giant's face, almost as brittle to the ear as a piercing whistle. "Listen, bud..." The scarred woman's voice dropped back down, and she locked her eyes, both the blue one and the white one, onto his reds. "Obviously, you're not concerned with doin' things quickly, an' I'm guessin' you got you a life span like one o' them 'Great Old Ones' I heard about a bit back a-ways. That said, if you ain't in no rush, then why bother. But if you want t' get somethin' done, an' done right, don't it make sense to do it right away?"

Jack thought about whether Hawley could get the drop on him. Then he laughed, because even if Hawley did, it wouldn't make that much of a difference; Jack could just get back up after a bit. He quickly stopped, he had already attracted more than enough attention to himself at present; perhaps he had better follow Relyn's lead and avoid any loud outbursts.

"I can tell you've lived in the city for a while, mac; only a handful of us locals go to Dona's. Still, Lombardi's has a certain charm about it. So where's your nest, huh? Midtown, I'm guessin'."

Jack realized that the man's eyes were a very unnatural shade of grey, almost like his own eye color but a little brighter. He decided that it wouldn't be to his advantage if he pointed that similarity out, at least not yet.