Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-21 19:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, caspar vaux |
Who: Ari & Caspar
What: Drinks (for one of them, anyway)
Where: The Snuggly Duckling
When: Tonight
Rating: PG-ish
Status: Complete!
Ari was late. Realistically, she thought as she waltzed into the tavern nearly twenty minutes past the appointed time, Cas ought to expect it by now, and if he didn’t, well, that was his problem, now wasn’t it? She spotted him at the bar, making eyes at the bartender; with a shake of her head, she made her way over and claimed the stool next to his. “I see you’ve been well-entertained in my absence,” she said, amused. “I suppose that means I don’t have to apologize for my tardiness.” A cheeky smile was transferred to the bartender, and she continued on, as though this was the same conversation: “Diamond Dust, virgin, please.” At the woman’s departure, she turned her attention back to Caspar and said, “She’s married, you know. Not that that stops some people, I suppose.” Caspar knew she was going to be late. You did not get to be friends with someone without getting to know their habits. Not that the knowledge could stop him from being punctual himself. Years of training did not come undone even around casual society, and try as he might, some lessons were so deeply ingrained he couldn't go against them even if he tried. So there he was, waiting, as usual, for Ari to finally grace him with her presence. He shrugged a shoulder when she sat down beside him, not bothering to deny the accusation. "Hey, a good Knight knows how to keep himself occupied, especially when he spends so many days outside those walls." Caspar ordered a pint of beer once Ari had placed her order (of course he had waited to order a drink; he was a gentleman) before turning his attention back to his friend. "Married women have eyes too. I cannot help it if they like what they see." The bartender brought their drinks and flashed he her his most charming grin in gratitude. "I see you're still drinking like a nun. How much longer until I get my Ari back again?" She laughed and said, “I could say something terribly insensitive here to the effect of, ‘if you won’t go to church, I’ll bring at least a little bit of it to you,’ but then we’d both know I was blowing hot air, and there’s a book somewhere that says we mustn’t lie.” She grinned back and added, “Shall I rap your knuckles with a ruler? I hear they do that, in the Pharist orphanages, if one is being intractable, and you are that nearly always.” That barb delivered, she settled her elbow on the bar and told him, “As for my sobriety, until mid-Gemini, this time -- the horror! But then, can you imagine a drunk Juliana? She might have mistook Romulus for a night prowler and called the guard, and then she’d be… well, alive, anyway. Tragedy averted -- but I don’t get paid that way. Consider this character acting, if it makes you feel better.” She picked up her glass of clear, fizzing liquid and tapped it to his. “I shall be reclaiming my… what was it the director called, it, girlish innocence the next few months, so at the very least you know your life won’t lack for entertainment, even if you are down a drinking buddy.” Caspar made a face but accepted the barb in the spirit it was delivered, only because it came from Ari. She was one of the few people who knew how he truly felt about faith and religion, and their shared dislike for the church was one one of the pillars of their friendship. "If corporal punishment is what you would like to give, you know I'm always ready, Ari. I would let you put my intractability to good use in a heartbeat." He grinned, mischief certain in his eyes, even though they both knew the flirtation did not reach beyond the surface. He took another sip of his drink and considered her words. "I believe Juliana could do with a drink or two. Loosen her up a little, perhaps keep her from being too dramatic a teenager. And of course, there's the alive thing. It might not make for good theater, but it would be less traumatic on the whole." Caspar almost snorted into his beer. "Girlish… innocence? How drunk was your director when he cast you? Are you certain he even met you?" Ari had about as much innocence as he did, and even that was being generous. "Anyway, if you're not drinking, you will simply have to be twice as entertaining. Are you up for the challenge?" “I am always up for being entertaining,” Ari proclaimed. “Or entertained -- by your drunken antics, perhaps -- as the case may be. As for my director…” She fluttered her lashes in a highly exaggerated manner, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the very image of the vapid young ladies she saw standing in clumps at parties for the highborn. “Darling, if I must, I can convince anyone. And I have the benefit -- I’m told -- of looking like l’m actually twelve under certain stage lighting.” That had been galling for most of her adult life, but she had to admit, for roles such as this one, her stature was convenient. “Besides,” she added, “perhaps I’ll bring what little sense I’m able to the role. She isn’t terribly relatable.” Caspar laughed at the spot-on impression that seemed straight out of one of many events he had been obligated to attend in his life. “This must be the first time I have heard anyone be proud of looking like a child. How sure are you about this director? That he’s being faithful to the story and not… a fan of the younger set?” His tone was light but the look in his eyes was momentarily concerned. Convinced as he was that Ari could take care of herself in nearly any situation, he was no fan of the thought of her being under the direction of a man with such grotesque perversions. “No, she is an idiot teenager, as is Romulus. They might be more dramatic than most of us were as youths, but I would be lying if I said their foolhardiness did not remind me of my own. But speaking of Romulus, who plays your ill-fated lover?” “They’re bringing in some foreign tenor,” she said dismissively. “Never met him, though he can only be an improvement over my last leading man. As for the rest of it, my height had to serve me sometime.” And for more than climbing through tiny second-story windows. “Don’t worry, papa, if the big, scary director attempts to sully my good name,” as though that were even possible, “I’ll call you straightaway and you can glower at him.” She sipped at her drink, then, shaking her head, admitted, “I suppose we were all idiots at that age -- but I was never that sort of idiot. True love at first sight, marriage to a stranger, death on a whim... I always thought Juliana could have done with some sense. Run away, then, if your parents bother you so.” She shrugged and said, “Not to worry, I won’t be so jaded in character. Though I will maintain that the story is about lust and childish foolishness rather than true love. Fortunately, the music is lovely enough to make the audience weep on its own, so I daresay it will work out.” "Oh, I'll do more than glower." He was grinning, but there was a dead seriousness to his look. "Besides, it's not your 'good' name that I worry about about." Ari could take care of herself, but not everyone had her talent for self-preservation. "You're telling me you were not a whimsical, romantic teenager," his voice began to vibrate, as suppressed laughter began to threaten its way out "who spent her nights dreaming of a handsome knight on a white steed who would whisk her away? I'm not entirely sure I can believe that." Caspar had no option but to joke when conversations veered towards dangerous topics such as this one. He knew perfectly well the strength it took to leave one's parents and he did not care to be research material just then, even if it were for Ari. "True lust would be the more realistic approach, at that age. That was exactly the sort of idiot most of us were." A pause, a sheepish grin. "And still are, as you well know. Anyway, I cannot promise I will weep for lusty teenagers, no matter how sentimental the music." “I was a whimsical teenager,” Ari admitted. “Romantic? Somewhat less so, though I had my share of trysts in dressing rooms. Never mind, that part of me died when my first music teacher refused my tender young heart and cast me aside, alas and woe is me.” It was a joke -- her crush on her first lute master had been laughable, in retrospect (she’d been ten at the time) -- but the closest thing to a love story from her youth that she had to offer. “To lust, then,” she said decisively, clinking their glasses together. “It’s the best possible thing I can think of to toast.” With a sideways glance at him, she added, “And now my goal must be to move you to tears with my performance, I take it. I do love a challenge.” "I bet he kicks himself nightly for turning you down. I have no idea just how troublesome you were, but I have this image of you, four feet tall, wreaking havoc wherever you went. Don't tell me if it was not the case, as I'm rather fond of this version of you." "May it ever be a constant in our life." Their shared vice (though Caspar would never call it that) was yet another pillar of their friendship, and had in the past led to many an interesting challenge. "I would never talk you out of the challenge, but I feel obliged to warn you that this is a challenge you will lose." “Don’t worry, I’d never dispel that amazingly accurate image.” Even if he likely couldn’t imagine what sort of trouble she had gotten into (in her experience, most fighters didn’t think of ten-year-olds squirreling away items that didn’t belong to them with indulgent affection). Then she shrugged and said, “Losing sometimes lends life some color, but I do like to win, so I shall be applying myself. Even if,” she added, “I suspect that rewriting the opera into a comedy and making you laugh until you cry might be the best route. I had a discussion with a friend recently about rewriting the libretto, so it isn’t entirely out of the question.” "That would be a better plan. If I remember correctly, the show had far too many moments of potential humor not taken far enough. But," he raised his brows in an all-knowing look, "if that's not possible, I would prepare to lose. Don't worry, like you said, a loss would give life color. I am no expert, but I'm fairly certain it would even be good for your soul." “Oh yes, thank you for concerning yourself with my soul. It was sorely lacking your oversight,” Ari said with a roll of her eyes. “So, now you’ve had all my news -- what about you? Any particular reason we’re drinking on a weekday, or did you just miss my effervescent personality?” Caspar shrugged, unable to keep his mouth from twitching. "Always at your service, m'lady." He thought in silence from a moment, running back the events that had occurred since their last conversation. "You know, I don't believe my life has been all that eventful. Work, missions, the usual, but nothing to really report on. I missed your effervescent personality, of course. That's always true. I think I also needed just one full evening where I didn't have to hold back even once. That's not a luxury I often enjoy." “I would say you ought to just stop concerning yourself with public opinion and simplify your life, but that’s an acquired skill, I suppose,” Ari said. “Still, I am here as always for your unwinding needs.” And his glass appeared to be empty. “Have another, since I can’t,” she coaxed. “If you like, I’ll tell you about the little jaunt I had last weekend. It has all the elements of your typical adventure, including murderous magicite.” "I haven't qualified for that level of life yet, alas, I will simply live vicariously through you." Caspar smiled and ordered another drink as commanded. "I'll make you a deal. I'll drink as much as you want me to for the both of us, if you promise to keep me entertained while I drink. You know I love tales of adventure, but please, don't skip any details. Especially the details involving pretty young things losing their minds and layers of clothing around you." His drink came, they clinked glasses, and Caspar listened intently to Ari's tale of murder and magic melded into new stories one after another. All in all, it was exactly the night he had come looking for, even if it involved twice the beer he had intended to drink. |