RP:Eight Barrels of Tar On the Dock

Transport to Rynvale

Clement rolls his shoulder and grimaces. He'd been trying not to count the barrels, but now he can't resist looking up and doing a quick tally. "Alright then." There aren't as many as he'd imagined. Clement had been really throwing his back into it tonight in an effort to shake off the nights prior. The fight in the alley had left him darn sore. Honestly, Clement shouldn't be pushing himself. He should be at home with a bottle and his feet up. "Hell with it." Tipping another barrel on its side, Clem gives a heave and rolls it to the base of the gangplank. "Just eight more to go," he reassures the seaman as passes it off, then heads back to fetch another. It was good to get some work in, but it'll be good to be done. Clement knows he looks like death. "Heh," that joke never gets old. Soon he'll have some Vailkrin wine to put the color back in his cheeks. It used to unnerve him, the way he never ran out of breath or worked up a sweat anymore. Used to. He's had a long time to get accustomed now. You looked at Meri.'

Meri 's reason for being here was far more unproductive. See, she started her night off by slumming it at the bar but quickly decided that she was annoyed with that scene. Can't a girl just drink a bit of whiskey in peace? The answer most of the time is no. It was some time after random stranger number two tried to chat her that she decided to abandon the Whaler, bottle of whiskey in tow. Her wandering through the streets of Cenril was aimless and rather than find her way back to her place, her feet ended up pulling her down to the docks. Rushing back to her home would mean that the babysitter she hired for her night would be relieved of her duties and Meri would have to go back to being a responsible adult. This did not sound appealing to the lycan. The tattooed woman travels down the docks just in time to hear Clement fussing about his work. Only eight more left. While Meri had no interest in random bar chatter, that would not stop her from harassing a total stranger. See. What she was about to say would involve zero pickup lines. Heck, Clement may not even take kindly to the woman's sass. Meri was fine with this, she was a bit much and didn't always care to reel her behavior in. "Well if you keep standing around whining about the work you have left to do, it's not going to get done. Eight more barrels is like nothing. Chop, chop, son." The slightly inebriated woman finishes this sass off with a charming imitation of a whip cracking sound. "Get to it."

Clement has just gotten his mitts on barrel-minus-seven-and-counting when, hark, a voice. Some stranger appears to heckle him, like a siren on the sea breeze... but with rather the reverse effect. He shoots her a darkly amused look, then gives his barrel a kick to get it rolling. "Hate to dissapoint, ma'am. Nothing but tar in these." Another heave, and he passes it off to the seaman. Six to go. "If you're looking for wine or whiskey, the Whaler's open all night." "Hey," the thirsty sailor objects, "don't spook her off." Straightening his cap, the young deckhand shoots Meri a look that is probably supposed to be suave. "Maybe she's here for a ride to Rynvale. How about I pay your way, lady?" Clement gives the barrel and indicative slap. "Keep your mind on *your* pay," Clement reminds him, more for the lad's own benefit than Meri's. The boatswain wouldn't appreciate his men consorting with... women of the night. On his way to grab number five, Clement sizes Meri up, and she might feel his appraising glance sweep her up and down. Just what is she doing here anyway?

Meri :: The hope was that she would continue to have the reverse effect, but she's quickly learns that this will not be the case. That poor deckhand is offering to pay her way...? The lycan does not reveal her true thoughts on this offer, instead her red lips curve into a practiced smile but her words don't quite match the expression. "Awe, you're offering to pay my way to Rynvale? Out of the goodness of your heart? Well isn't that sweet." A thumb is hitched toward Clement, "You should listen to him though. Wouldn't go trusting any dame you meet down at the docks at night. I've heard we're nothing but trouble." Maybe Meri should try and do something to dissuade the notion that she's a lady of the night. She doesn't. Though Clement might be able to ascertain during his once over that Meri may not actually claim this line of work. She's not dressed in a way to catch attention. Where is the sleazy skirt? Or the low cut top? No, manner's attire does not match that of a lady of the night. Black boots, black pants, and tonight she's wearing a bland button down top. Also black in color. The artist was feeling quite creative with her selection of clothing this evening, obviously. She's also got a blade resting at her hip and a sheathed dagger shoved into the back of each boot. Who wants to hire a whore that seems like she could potentially shank someone? Meri snorts, "At least one of you seems to have your head on straight and doesn't go drooling over ever skirt that wanders this way." Her only real purpose in being here right now is to be obnoxious. Maybe the workers will get lucky and she'll lose interest in this endeavor and move on her way. The bottle of whiskey is pressed to her lips, taking a drink before pointing out to, "Been to the Whaler. Got bored. Thanks for the tip though."

Clement smirks in silent relief as the sailor falters. The combined effect of Clement's reprimand and Meri's rebuttal manages to shake the deckhand's resolve, and goes grumbling back to his work. Clement intends to do the same, and yet, over the drone of rolling stock, Meri's voice comes again. "It must be awful there," Clement muses aloud, "if you're here for entertainment." It's a weak attempt to dismiss her. Truth be told, there's a fair amount of hustle and bustle surrounding a ship readying for departure, as much as there might be anywhere else this time of night. In fact, Clement has to admit that he himself has spent more than one idle night watching the boats go in an out. "You're alright," Clem reassures her. She's a nuisance, but she's a person. Three barrels to go. "We're not much to look at, though." Clement himself is dressed in very plain attire: flop hat, white shirt, coarse brown pants, and work boots that have gotten ruddy with a day's effort. Well, a night's effort anyway. "Just watch you don't get rolled over. Don't think I've seen you around here."

Meri :: Yes, there was much to observe down at the docks. Let's analyze this example. If Clement was telling the truth about the contents of the barrels? Then Meri has managed to learn that the ship he is currently loading really is not stocked with cargo of note. These details are of particular interest, for those that -really- know the lycan understand that she doesn't make a bulk of her gold by selling paintings. There was honestly a high probability that Meri was not just here to heckle, she was observing a lot more than she was letting on. "Ah, well if you have not seen me around here before then I suggest you pay more attention to your surroundings." Meri turns from Clement so that she can point to building looming off in the near distance, probably only a three minute walk from where they current stand. Most would assume it is a warehouse, at first glance, but as Meri goes on to explain, "But really I live and work not too far from here myself. I own that building right there in fact. That's my gallery." The warning that Meri mind herself so she does not get rolled over is met with a smirk...And of course she does just the opposite. Clement was working so hard on moving those barrels, and Meri goes and ignores all his instructions and plants her tush on the last barrel he will be needing to move. "The name's Meri. Who the heck are you?" Her question is aimed for Clement, not that poor deckhand that was trying to pay her way to Rynvale, or any other chump stuck at work tonight.

Clement should have remembered that no good deed goes unpunished. This is what he gets for humoring bored, drunken women. One moment, he's commiserating with a stranger, the next, he's got the owner of an art gallery sitting on his last barrel. You know. The barrel standing between him and his hard-earned comforts. That barrel. "Oh, come on lady." The deckhand calls from the gangplank, obviously jealous that fuddy-duddy Clement is the one who somehow managed to snatch her attention. Clement passes him barrel number two and heaves a deep, intentional sigh. "Good to meet you, Meri. I thank you for the introduction." He looks over to the gallery building silhouetted against the silver, moonlit clouds, then he looks back to her. If she's who she claims to be, he doesn't want to ruffle her feathers. Well, if she's a businesswoman, "then how about a trade." Clement points at the barrel-turned-barstool. "You want my name and some free entertainment. I want that barrel." It's a simple economic problem. "I've got nothing to do after this." He takes off his hat to scratch his head, as if considering his own offer. "Not sure I can make it any more fair than that."

Meri made zero effort to hide her smirk upon hearing that 'oh, come on lady.' Did fuddy-duddy Clement really manage to snare Meri's attention. Let's find out. Drum roll please....Clement is going to get what he wants, but it is not going to come in the form of a trade. At least not fully. Probably much to his relief. Did he really want to continue entertaining Meri? Probably not. Meri slides off her recently claimed seat, booted feet finally starting her to distance her from the dock and it's workers. Spoilers: Meri is a horrible lady, isn't obvious? For a few seconds though, Meri is going to just go ahead and act like she is, feigning offense to this offer. "Why I never," she says, with a wrinkle of her nose, throwing in a bit of a southern drawl just for dramatic flair. The accent is abandoned pretty quickly. Maybe she had asked for a name, but it seems like she's finally been driven off and may not be sticking around to get it. Clement is going to have to listen to the lycan's sass as she's walking away though. "Free entertainment," she snorts. "What sort of entertainment do you think I am looking for exactly?" Rhetorical, Meri did not want an answer nor was she going to clarify. "I doubt you're even capable of keeping up." There's no good bye, Meri is just going to keep walking and muttering her way back to that building she claims she owns.

Clement didn't expect to get let off that easy. "Well I-" She did say she was bored, but now Meri's liberal interpretation of the term "entertainment" is sounding problematic. Clements face scrunches. He'd like to explain himself, but she's leaving, and somehow he's sure that his mouth is better off shut. He gives the barrel a kick and starts rolling. "Hey Clem, keep your mind on your work," the deckhand laughs. "I'm done," Clement growls and wipes his hands on his trousers, "so bon voyage."