Sarinah sat in the B&B sipping on a whiskey. She hadn't been here for too long, only since 23oc. And she had decided to take the night off. Lately, Mulms was a double edged sword for her. She liked the place and all, but there was something more brewing in her wick head. An idea, a very lucritive idea. Hopefully, it wouldn't be to private for Tristaan to talk to her about it. The idea had come whilst she watched some of the galdor customers they had talk about the pretty galdor women they knew and how they'd like to see..,well...private things involving them. And then there was all the stuff with Cassi and Alia. All this talk of dancing really got her brain going, something wonderful was brewing.

Looking casually at the door, she wondered if he was too caught up. She'd taken the seat they'd shared, planting herself firmly with a drink and her long shapely legs perched on the table. And the seamstress had finished her dress this afternoon, so she'd decided to wear it tonight, although she'd left her hair down instead of pinning it up like she'd originally thought to do. It was very comfortable and she'd noticed some of the sidelong glances the male patrons were taking. It made her feel good to know Fions work was being appreciated. Taking another sip, she decided she could wait longer.

Tristaan had only a slight bit of trouble detangling himself from the business of the circus for the evening. There was always something to do to prepare, especially with new performers, and an extra hand was always appreciated. He couldn't complain about the work, even if it was hard to keep his own schedule. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, he was careful to sneak away as unnoticed as possible, deciding once again to wander into town unarmed, even if only in the more literal sense.

The walk back into town and to the B&B was a productive time of mulling over the past few days. So much so that the passive had to pause and remind himself to not be too serious in thought as he walked casually into the tavern, remembering he was there for a pleasant social visit and not anything related to business.

It was not particularly hard to spot Sarinah; Tristaan noticed he really only had to follow a few gazes from other patrons in the room. Oh. And look for the table they previously occupied. But, really, it was much more amusing to take a lead from the patrons. Well, it was apparent they all had good reasons to look; at least one of them had a lovely sense of fashion without the need for assistance and it wasn't the passive.

With a grin, he approached the table to lean against it, hand by her reclined feet. He'd chosen to forgo his hat which, in addition to wandering around town without a cloak or sword in rather ordinary clothes compared to all the interesting ones he perused the day before, really made him feel strangely out of place ... A feeling that managed to evaporate by the time he opened his mouth to speak his greeting.

"Hesta, I hope I haven't kept you waitin' too long ... It's lovely t'see you again." By the sound of his voice and light in his grey eyes, he meant for lovely to imply more than just the particular moment in time that they were meeting.

Sarinah saw the hand by her feet and followed the length of the arm to look up and see a surprisingly ordinarily dressed Tristaan. She liked this look, it really showed off how attractive the man was.



Raising an eyebrow, the dancer felt a little flutter of excitement at the double compliment. She smiled and sighed.

"Oh no, ent been that long. Had a benny time stirring up the patrons." She looked at the lollygaggers and winked. Turning back to the man, she looked around.

"It's...lovely..to see you to kov. Although, it appears I have managed to take the best seat in the house. Too slow balach, too slow." Her eyes sparkled mischievously to match her grin.

The passive grinned, sliding a chair from behind him closer with his foot but waiting to sit down, "Well, I s'pose some of 'em need somethin' to drink to ..."


"Oh. Aye, but," he chuckled, sitting in his own chair slowly, leaving his hand where it was to drum his fingertips on the table thoughtfully, "Even if I'd been here before you, I'd've given it t'you anyway. I don't need th'best seat if I have th'best view." Tristaan hadn't decided if he was in the mood for drink or not yet, so he settled a little in his seat, quite content with friendly yet playful conversation, "Well, we've gone an' run int'each other again. Have y'been as busy as I have?"

Sarinah giggled and sipped on her whiskey, flattered by the playful remark. She was enjoying his mood, it matched her own. Momentarily, she wondered if she should put her legs down with him sitting there, but then she figured, he'd move to the other side if he was uncomfortable. It wasn't like she wasn't wearing underwear. And it wasn't a particularly high table, so really, he wasn't able to see past her thigh anyway.



She shook her head.

"So we have kov. So we have. Busy, no actually. And its something thats got me thinking." She tapped her glass on her chin thoughtfully, before drinking the last of the whiskey down.

"What do you think of a dancing place in Old Rose Harbor? With pretty girls, and galdor inspired outfits, bright lights and music...singing. Something really fancy. No brothel girls, just fancy dancing for men. It's still going to be putting bad thoughts into mens heads, but they have to find somewhere else to put the ideas to use. Adult Entertainment! I had an idea last night, benny idea I think. But, I don't think it would do well in Vienda. Mulm might just run me out of town too. So, Old Rose. What do you think balach?" She rolled the cold glass back and forth against her chest without thinking as she spoke, not intended to be cheeky, just enjoying the coldness against her bare skin.

Tristaan briefly wondered if he should have sat down on the other side of the table, realizing that his casual remark about a nice view carried a bit more meaning than he originally intended. Weighing the options of staring at other less attractive patrons in various declining states of sobriety or occasionally catching glances of a well-toned pair of dancer's legs, the passive knew he had already made the better choice to remain where he was seated. He smiled to himself at this.


The man listened carefully, mostly attentively, and without too much obvious discomfort at keeping his eyes where they should be in a polite conversation. At her question, the passive ran a hand over the lower half of his face, pausing to rub his chin. He then exhaled slowly, considering his answer. While he wasn't really capable of imagining clearly her ideas, he was not clueless as to its appeal. It was obvious that Vienda, being the capital of galdor rule, would perhaps consider such an establishment insulting or dangerous. Old Rose, however, was acceptably rebellious enough for such a place, even if it may be a struggle to remind those who have been at sea too long to keep their hands to themselves.

"I'd have t'agree with you on there bein' a difference between Vienda an' Old Rose. Considerin' the difference in population ... distribution ... I'd think that somethin' like you have in mind – which must've taken some thought – would indeed be better suited to the Harbor an' not here. Y'might have somethin' ... unique ... there."

Annnd ... face.

Tristaan blinked, returning his gaze upward and grinning a little before looking to the bar, thinking it may be a night for drinking after all, "Is this somethin' you've been considerin' for some time?"

Sarinah nodded in agreement, thinking not only was it suited to the harbor, but if it got popular enough, the ones in Vienda might be persuaded to take a daytrip to Old Rose to spend a night at the...the...something-or-rather. Something fancy.



The dancer grinned wryly as she watched his drifted gaze return to her face, and leaned over to rest the glass on the table.

"Not really kov, its more of an idea thats been brewing since I met a rosh I knew of from years ago. An ice dancer. It made me think, what if an establishment designed specificly for dancing was made. With food served perhaps? And drinks. But, for adult patrons. Obviously mostly for men, but women would be welcome too. The thought won't go. I could even have acrobatic acts. The idea just keeps building on itself." She shrugged.

"I've been looking to get out of the Place for a long time, and even though Cook is gone and I don't dance anymore, I still don't want to stay there. Plus, Old Rose just seems like a benny place to start over. Vienda is spent for me Tristaan." She didn't speak with sadness anymore, but a little part of her heart still hurt. It would be nice to go somewhere with a little spice.

"Ent you going back there soon? Is that what you said last time we..ran into each other?" Her cheeky grin returned. It would be fun having someone like Tristaan around her area.

The passive chuckled in understanding, "Oes, I do know th'feelin' there, rosh." Granted, returning to Vienda for the first time in almost a decade had not been as distinctly unpleasant as he had feared it would be, for various reasons. The past few days of traveling and paying off what he considered childhood debts had been a freeing and rather cathartic experience. Now that so much of it was behind him, he could finally admit he missed Old Rose.


The man smiled, nodding, "I am. I did." He leaned the side of his face on his hand, elbow on the table, "I actually seem t'ave found myself a paid way back to th'Harbor. Sometime after the Circus, I'll be ... uh ... escortin' someone down there for some personal business. It may be a round trip back to Vienda." Tristaan looked at Sarinah and realized his job description may have sounded a little unusual. He arched a slim eyebrow, "Are you implyin' y'don't like travelin' alone?"

Sarinah made a little pout, she'd sort of hoped he'd be staying there longer. Well, she thought, its not like your going to go down and be set up in a day. In fact, she would need to organize accommodation at both ends till it was built. So she might be able to see him again if he came back to Vienda. And escorting someone? She didn't know what to make of that. What exactly did this wick do?



The dancer was caught slightly off guard. She laughed nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Ahh, oes. It's silly, but I ent really very good traveling alone. I get spooked easy, so I spend the entire night sitting in front of my fire holding my sai's." She had turned a slight shade of red, realizing how stupid she must sound. Trying to take the focus off her discomfort, she took down her legs and stood.

"Ye want a drink, kov?"

Tristaan smiled, not at the woman's embarrassed admission but at the implication that someone might not refuse a traveling companion should the opportunity present itself. It was amusing. He made a mental note to bring that up again as he watched her stand.


"Oh aye, I think I might." He glanced to the seat Sarinah stood from briefly, almost mischievously, and then looked to the bar, a bit of indecision in his voice, "What were you drinkin'? I ent too sure what I'm in th'mood for."

((*is amused that Tristaan pulls off playing Wick* ))

Sarinah shook out her hair and stood with her hands resting on her hips.

"Well, I just had a Gorgian Whiskey. It's smooth and ent to over powering. I'm thinking I might be getting another." She raised an eyebrow, slowly smiling.

"That strike your fancy, kov?" Her voice wasn't exactly breathy, but the old Sarinah was definitely coming back. She was enjoying being herself again.

The passive smiled with a nod, more watching Sarinah than necessarily considering her drink suggestion. Both were nice, however, and he leaned forward in his seat, "That sounds benny t'me ... but I'll have t'suggest it be on my coin."

Sarinah made a sort of pouty smirk and tipped her finger at him like a parent scolding a child.

"Ent like that kov, I only accept coin from men when I've earned it." The grin on her face was full of sly cheek, and with a little spin, she turned heel to the bar and ordered two straight whiskeys, pulling a little money out of her coin purse. She'd had to stash it behind the jeweled part of the brazier, the rest of the outfit was just to sheer and light to hold it. Waiting for the drinks, she leaned with her elbows on the bar and took a little look around the tavern. It really was a nice place to drink. And the company made it better.

"Oes, aye, sorry 'bout that." Tristaan scoffed in playful defense at Sarinah's mock-scolding; he had only intended to be friendly. He softened into a smile and nodded, waiting for her back to be turned on her way towards the bar to quickly switch seats, leaning back in the chair she had previously occupied and resting his feet on the table as she had.

He pretended to tip a hat that wasn't there once she turned around, grinning mischievously. While waiting for her to return, he continued to consider her business idea, considering carefully who's attention such an establishment may attract in a place like Old Rose ... he thought it might be best to bring that up.

Sarinah's glance swept past, before doing a double take. She laughed, putting a hand to her mouth so it wasn't too loud. Obviously that seat was going to be an issue tonight. Nodding and making a shrewd 'you-win-this-round-' sort of face, she grabbed the drinks presented to her and put the coin on the table. Turning, she walked over and handed Tristaan the honey coloured liquid, taking a seat in his previous chair, taking a short moment to give the man a once over. Making a little approval eyebrow twitch she took a drink and put the glass on the table.

"Chair thief." She said simply, legs crossed.

The passive laughed as he accepted his drink, "I ent stealin' a thing. Jus'takin' back what's mine s'all." He enjoyed this joke, simply because it was ridiculous and unnecessary and someone was actually willing to play along.

After a taste of his drink, the man smirked a little, returning to the original conversation with an edge of seriousness, "You realize that your propos'd business will attract a certain amount of ... attention ... of the Brotherly kind, right?"

Out of nowhere a meaty hand clamped down on Sarinah's shoulder, taking advantage of how distracted the two wicks were with each other. If Sarinah turned she would have recognised him as an old regular of Cook's Place, a man long since barred for his behaviour. He was known for having wandering, clutching hands and a wicked temper. He'd never been popular with the girls, his face was always twisted unpleasantly, though it might have been handsome had he smiled. He wasn't tall, though he was possibly a little taller than Tristaan, and he always did his best to loom.

"Hey Red," Sarinah could not immediately remember his name, at work he was only known as Asshole. "Haven't seen you about lately. Ditch your John."

The man squeezed Sarinah's shoulder to the point of pain, his shiny bald head turning into an ocean of mean lines as he smiled cruelly. On his belt a gun was displayed prominently and he canted his hip slightly so that Tristaan would see it more clearly and hopefully be intimidated.

Sarinah began to open her mouth. She remember the Bad Brothers she ran into last time she visited Old Rose, and had forgot.



The dancer's stomach dropped. She knew that voice, and that loom. It was the Asshole from Cooks. The guy was banned, he'd been one of those types. Sure, in the past she'd been able to pull out her sai's and give him a run for his money, but like this she was completely off guard.



She grimaced and grabbed his wrists with both hands, but it was no good, he was just to strong. She looked at Tristaan, wide eyed in pain, embarrassment and helplessness. What a way to start the night!

At the bar, Ginny nudged Stu.

"Look," she said. "Mr. Scroggs is talkin' to that rosh who was here the other night. How much good do you reckon he's up to?"

Stu grimaced. "Exactly none," he replied. "But witches can take care of themselves, can't they?"

"This is a safe place," reprimanded Ginny. "That's all we got goin' for us. You're safe here above all else. Just 'cause she's a witch doesn't mean she wants to get picked on."

"He ent startin' anything yet," Stu said, frowning. "If he does, though, I'll clock him good. He's got a tab longer'n my arm, and we don't run a clockin' charity 'round here."

Wow, this guy's really plum moony to be wagging that in my face. I'm definitely not keen on getting clocking shot, new doctor friend or not. Tristaan kept his feet on the table as the shiny-headed man made his presence known by failing at looming subtly. His countenance hardly changed, grey eyes still rather jovial, as he glanced at the weapon so creatively hinted at on the man's person.

He immediately disliked four things about this situation: 1) This was a bar full of drunk and potentially rowdy people; 2) This was Vienda and not Old Rose; 3) He was almost unarmed; and 4) He was totally not going to get paid for kicking this tsuter's ass. Judging from his terrible sense of timing and rather disturbing smile, this lug was probably going to be worth the bit of pain and suffering he might dole out, but the passive really hoped that it wouldn't lead to the destruction of property he'd end up having to shell out for. That would be a bummer to what had at least started as a pleasant evening.

Bringing his drink to his lips, the passive casually delayed any dignity of response to the man long enough to take a long swig, setting the now half-empty glass down on the table, his fingers lingering conveniently near his boots, both of which concealed daggers very effectively.


Tristaan's expression slowly hardened into something less amused, but his voice was almost taunting. He glanced briefly at Sarinah as if to say 'I got this, I think,' then met the man's gaze steadily, "Look, kov, I'm very sure that if th'lovely rosh here wanted t'invite you out for a drink alone sometime, she would've by now. If you're that lonely, you're welcome t'ave a seat an' join th'two of us.. But–"

He carefully slipped his hand from his drink while he was talking, making sure the man was still staring at his eyes, and slid a dagger from his boot, clenching the blade tight and flat against the leather bracer on his wrist to keep it concealed while he continued to keep the man in conversation, "But, I ent one t'take kindly to bein' ditched for someone who's just not at all as handsome as m'self, ye chen?"

The passive slipped his feet from the tabletop, casually letting his arm fall to his side as he stood, holding up the dagger-less hand to sweep grandly at their table as if offering a seat. If the man had known Tristaan at all (which, thankfully, he didn't), he would have noticed that his stance had changed – he only looked relaxed and jokingly friendly. Like his day at the beach in front of the chrove with Calli, he was more ready for a fight than he chose to make obvious.

Scroggs gave Tristaan a slow disdainful look, from his boots to the crown of his head. He did not notice the blade in Tristaan's hand or his battle ready stance. Scroggs was an uneducated brawler at best, usually relying on the swiftness of his violence and crippling knife moves that disabled blocks of muscles.

His hackles raised at the insult to his appearance and at the facetious invitation to have a drink.

"Close your head, you poxy erse. I ent askin' no tumble for drinks." He hissed, hands squeezing the bones in Sarinah's shoulders even more painfully. "Shove off, before I make you."

Scroggs pulled his gun with his free hand, pointing it at Tristaan with a wicked smile upon his face.

"You're comin' w' me, girl." He hissed, tugging Sarinah out of her chair. The movement ironically freed up her use of her legs and made it easier to swing her arms.

Sarinah watched Tristaan's face, and part of her felt relief. She never had support when these things happened, mostly she just had to deal with them alone...or run. As he stood, she tried to keep the pained look from her face. It wasn't right, this helpless damsel feeling.



It was hard not to cry out, but she wouldn't do that. That's not the way she rolled.



It was all the opportunity she needed, with a quick movement, she reached behind her and pulled out her sai. In one heavy thrust, she stabbed the man in the thigh, hoping it was enough to release his painful grip.

The man scowled, his grey eyes turning stormy and cold as the tsuter actually drew his gun. Surely, the passive's whice had more brain cells in his skull than this guy. Close range was so sloppy, not to mention it revealed a terrible lack of finesse when it came to combat.


Tristaan knew he didn't really have time to appreciate the distraction, though it became apparent to him that Sarinah was talented in more than one method of attracting attention and that a lovely woman with the wits enough to stab an angry man in the leg would be downright olio if he did not have that same man pointing a pistol in his general direction.

Acting on reflex, the passive brushed past the witch, his free hand reaching up towards Scroggs' gun-arm to lift it upward and away from pointing at anyone, hoping to get a grip on a pressure point along his wrist and give it an rough, gun-dropping squeeze.

At the same time, he stepped forward with what he hoped was enough force to knock the surprised man backward or at least off-balance as he shoved his shoulder into the man's chest. Hesitant to bring his own drawn dagger into play until Scroggs was not waving a weapon, he kept the blade against his arm even as he shoved the man. At least, if the lug didn't stumble, Tristaan left himself in a good position to stab him in any number of soft, painful places.

Scroggs screamed like a stuck pig as the knife slid into his flesh. A group of rowdy looking men near the bar fell silent as they heard his cry. Scroggs gun went off loudly, shattering a bottle of moderately priced gin behind near Ginny's head.



Scrogg's gun hit the floor and the man himself stumbled forward. A large, ape-like human jumped to his feet, tipping his stool over in his haste.

"They're mugging Scro, boys, let's kill them!" He cried.

A sizable contingent of the bar stood as one, pulling knives and guns as they went. They were at least ten in number but more than half of them were wobbling comically and ten times past drunk.