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Whatever Roddy Wants


Date:  November 19, 2004
Places:  Healer Hall's Courtyard, Main Hallway, and Lounge; Harper
Hall's Courtyard and Dining Hall
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  M'rek and Kassima are dangerous guests to have at a 
Crafthall.  If they're not attempting to find and drink all the 
alcohol in the place, they're hunting down the Craftmaster to sing 
him a cheerful and bawdy serenade in front of his Apprentices.  Why
are they still alive, exactly? ;)  Many amused thanks go to M'rek 
for the brilliant idea of this scene and to Rodric for being a 
magnificent sport about the whole thing. 0:)

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The Log:

You check to make sure the courtyard is clear then descend to Healer Hall.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

M'rek watches the green land and nods his head in that trouble just waiting
to happen way and gives Kassima a toothy grin, "How's it, Kassi-darling?"
He's got the devil in him tonight and it shows, he must have been up to
something today.

"All the times I've been here," Kassi reports after swinging down from on
high, shucking gloves and helmet to tuck them into Lysseth's strap pouch,
"and would you believe it? I never once thought t'look for drinks." She
might have more to say on that subject, but That Expression on M'rek on all
people gives her amused pause: "All right, spill it. Who've you throttled
today? I am quite well as it happens--and I haven't even stabbed anybody.
Point for me."

<Bitra> Kassima says, "Hey, M'rek, what's today's word?"

<Bitra> M'rek thinks, should be good for departing. LV's most
favorite word. Toasty.

<Bitra> Kassima has flashbacks to Brave Little Toaster. I think I
claim dibs on being the snarky lamp.

M'rek laughs and indicates the path by rolling a shoulder, "Aye. I wouldn't
have thought so either, but there was this Lass in Nabol who had a sister
who was with a Healer that said they keep them in a cabinet near the gauze
in the lounge." Where there's a lounge, there's a bronzerider willing to
try and get blitzed. "Haven't throttled anyone, though I'd sore like to.
C'mon."

M'rek opens the great bronze doors and enters the Healer Hall.

<Bitra> Valon says, "I get dibs on the beermug if there was one."

You enter the Healer Hall through the large bronze doors.

Kassima slants him a markedly amused look as she follows after. "Why am I
nay surprised that you of all people managed t'cozen out that particular
secret? I hope 'tis good stuff. Though nay *too* good if'n you're in a
throttling mood. 'Twould be a shame t'start strangling some poor Apprentice
and spill the bottle, much as I enjoy an entertaining show with m'liquor."

"You've heard of those canines who can scent out boar? I can scent out
liquor. From my father's side." M'rek quips and then looks at the choice of
paths. "This way, I think. If not. Then. The other way." Short sentences so
he won't fry his brain before he can pickle it.

M'rek strides purposefully into the western Hallway.

You head west to the Main Hallway.

Kassima's expression is one of envy--at least it is while it's not busy
being wary, her eyes scanning this way and that for any signs of actual
Healers. "Should've brought m'Emasculator, just in case," she mutters.
"--See, that's just *completely* nay fair. You got it genetically! D'you
know how long it took me t'train m'self t'hunt down alcohol? And at that,
half the time I find out I've homed in on somebody's really ghastly klah
instead. Pathetic. Can I hide behind *you* if'n we see any of Them?"

M'rek doesn't seem particularly furitive as he strolls towards the Lounge,
but he does set a brisk pace, just in case. There's laughter, "Aye. You can
hide behind me if we're attacked by anyone. Especially if they're weilding
grain alcohol, or the one made out of tubers. Who're you going to
emasculate? Cause, I'm still not finished with my set."

M'rek passes through the swinging doors at the northwest end of the hallway.

You pass through the swinging doors at the northwest end of the hallway.

The doors swing shut behind you as you step into the lounge.

<Bitra> M'rek is going to miss getting pretend drunk.

<Bitra> M'rek will have to compensate. :)

Kassima has to wonder as she pushes through the doors in his wake, "Are you
*ever* going t'be finished with your set? I now have this mental image of
you standing up and announcing to the world that you're officially done
with your bits and are taking bids for the right t'lop 'em off. Wouldn't
that be a sight. But I still don't have any reason t'castrate you--yet--so
'twas thinking more of threatening Healers who are wielding cold
instruments meant t'go places nay anyone sane would want them. If'n they're
wielding booze, methinks I can summon m'courage t'stand fast beside you."
She pauses long enough to strike a noble pose, fist over heart. "Going
t'tell me why you're in the mood t'throttle? Or does that tale need drinks
first?"

<Bitra> Kassima says, "And then when you come back, there will have
to be a boozefest to end all boozefests. Maybe that's when we can all end
up in the drunk tank. ;)"

<Bitra> M'rek says, "Yeah!"

<Bitra> Rodric was re-reading Red Star Rising and Lord Chalkin had
lockups in the cellars:)

M'rek also strikes a pose as the pause, just inside the room. Hands to hips
and elbows akimbo. "Kind of toasty in here. Hope that's a good sign." He
lifts his chin a moment to heighten the superhero effect and then strolls
towards the cabinets, "Gauze. Gauze." And a pair of cabinets are thrown
open to reveal, a sight to make M'rek weep. Tiny little bottles of liquor,
probably meant for traveling healers to use as..emergency anaesthesia. Or.
They're meant to be tied around the necks of those canines who roam around
the mountains in winter, rescuing sober bronzeriders. Or. Maybe the Healers
just like 'em. He takes a double handful, fingers winding around the little
necks, "Come to Papa."

<Bitra> Kassima says, "Five points for M'rek. ;)"

If only there were an artist here to sculpt these brave, picturesque heroes
of riderdom in some fitting medium. Like white marble. Or, more likely,
dung. Kassima tags after the bronzerider and thus is bathed in the holy
radiance of the bottles as much as he; her eyes go wide with awe and
immediate love. "Oh, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you. Don't
you *even* think of keeping them all for yourself--" She's all about trying
to nudge him over enough that she can pluck a bottle here and a bottle
there, here some booze, there some booze, everywhere some booze-booze.

M'rek gets a briefly greedy look as Kassima starts taking bottles he hasn't
even gotten a sip out of, all he wants is just one little sip from each
bottle. He's not asking for commitment, not after the shambles his life was
left in after that four-timing bottle of scotch. Of all the gin joints in
all the world, she had to walk into his. "Lounges. The final frontier."
These are the voyages of Kassi and M'rek. "There's plenty to go around."
Until they get caught. The bronzerider back away with his prize and toss
himself onto a couch, making a spring pop.

Kassima is the greedy sort, though, apt to take each little bottle for all
it's got if it'll only let her. Of course, the bottles will doubtless sneak
off to have flings with M'rek anyway. Because alcohol is faithless like
that. And the bottles have heard from their Lava Lounge cousins about that
whole 'nay impotent' thing. "We shall boldly drink more than anyone has
drunk a'fore," she suggests in sheer bliss. "'Tis only logical. Ah, just
the sight of such wealth makes me feel all warm and toasty inside." She
bounces into a seat of her own, letting the little bottles scatter across
her lap and sorting through her prizes for just the right one to start.

<Bitra> M'rek says, "5 pts for Kassi!"

M'rek sheperds his bottles into his lap and takes the first one, holding
her aloft like a sword gifted to him by some watery tart. "I wonder how
many of these it'll take? Afterwards, we can stumble over to the Harper
Hall and see if it's true you can climb up to the top of the building from
the courtyard and find a sort of a pool on the top. You ever heard that? My
cousin swears it's true." The top is breached gently and M'rek guzzles the
bottle down, finishing with an "Ah. Whoa!" He blinks and looks at the
bottle, "The Healers have been holding out."

Despite the fact that Kassi has bottles of her own, she eyes M'rek's rather
enviously. No one's lobbed a scimitar at *her*. Help, help, she's being
repressed! "Depends exactly how drunk we want t'be," she suggests, "but
if'n we're going t'climb roofs, I suggest 'very'; 'twas meaning t'stop by
the Hall tonight anyway, conveniently enough, although roof-climbing was
nay part of the original plan--is it a pool of wine? Since 'tis Harpers
we're talking about, here." She decorks her bottle with flair and tips its
entire contents down her throat, not about to be out-guzzled by a
bronzerider. "Mmph!" She rubs at her throat, agrees, "Shards. We must've
found their *quality* stuff. Want t'set a wager on who can drink the most
of 'em and still stand upright?"

M'rek didn't vote for her, though she does have some nice tracts of land.
Makes him feel like he wants to sing. Another bottle is popped open and
guzzled. M'rek drops the empties behind the couch like he was never
properly housebroken. "Aye." He eyes narrow, "I bet it /is/ a pool of wine,
and Rodric's just been holding out on me. Heh. Well. Two can play at that
game. We'll get very drunk and just see about that wine pool with the
reclining chairs." Did he just embellish? Maybe. "Oh yeah. All right. I'm
two down." He holds his bottles closer, he doesn't want Kassi corrupting or
emasculating any of them.

Here's just hoping no Healers named Lancelot run into the Hall during his
song number and kill them all. It would be too cruel a fate to die with
such bounty undrunk, and before they can even make it over to the Castle
Anthr--err, Harper Hall. Kassima at least has the thoughtfulness to tuck
her empties into the space between cushion and armrest, all neatly lined in
a row. "Reclining chairs," she repeats once she's emptied another bottle of
its virtue like the absolute cad she is. "Do people actually sit in those?
When they could be in the pool? Wimps. *Lightweights*." Guess which curse
is worse. Another bottle later, she cheerfully announces, "Three!"

"Four!" M'rek is merry now, and the bottles are just dropping behind the
couch like hairs from <someone with hair>'s hairline. "I wonder if
these little bottles would sink or swim?" M'rek tips another one back and
then peeks his eye into it as if looking for more, "Toasty. I mean, tasty.
We could pack 'em in our pockets and nobody would be the wiser,
Kassi-darlin'."

"Fi--nay, still three," Kassima mourns, and sets to evening the score with
a vengeance, her own hair staying mercifully intact despite the power of
the liquor. "We could drink them while swimming in the wine pool!" she
agrees, brightening at this idea. "I might even spare Rodric one or two. As
a present. Only, if'n he's been holding out on us about a whole pool of
wine, that really isn't very nice. Perhaps we should prepare a revenge."
That idea, too, is one she seems to like, far beyond the pale in fact.

M'rek holds up two twin bottles as he can't decide which he likes better,
like only one of them is going to bite the dust today. He hiccups. It's so
sudden that it startles him a little bit. "Aye. We should get some revenge
on that Rodric, for keeping all that wine to himself. Not to mention, I
lost my second best flask because of him." Not entirely true as M'rek
forgot to take it with him out of Bitra. "I kinda like shish stuff."

Kassima snarks cheerfully, "Just drink 'em both; you're going to anyway,
you two-timer," like she's so much better with her empties threatening to
fill up that crevice in which she's been stowing them. She frowns at the
problem, but--ah-hah! Here's space between the cushions. She'll hide the
next empty there for some Healer to find. "How'd that happen? Revenge,
revenge. We should...." She stretches out her legs and leans back to think.
This takes a little longer than normal, because all the liquor does not
exactly grease the wheels of her logical thought mechanism. "We should sing
t'him!" she announces, sitting up. "He likes singing. A lot. Sing something
evil." Though she's not slurring yet, her voice is taking on the tell-tale
singsong that suggests rationality is soon to take its usual flaming leap
from her skull if it hasn't already.

Ayanne pushes open the swinging doors and enters from the hallway.

Trill pushes open the swinging doors and enters from the hallway.

Trill pops in behind the just-arrived Healer, chittering a bit and swoops
around, eyes whirling, then hones in on Kassima and drops a bit of hide in
her lap, vaguely, before vanishing *Between* this time.

M'rek is arguably not reasonable even sober on a good day, and he's quick
to agree like a yes man on the campaign trail, "Aye. A song. We'll sing him
a song, he'd like that. Maybe he'll like it enough to share the wine with
us. Master Learan shared with us." He's sitting on a couch, next to
Kassima, looking disreputable and drinking small containers of liquor, one
does at a time. "Sh-even." He's in an out on the slur, as if his mouth
isn't even sure what it's doing anymore.

Ayanne is audible before she's visible, but only by a moment. "Alright,
then, clean it up. Don't leave sticky syrup on the counter and floor -- and
I don't want to feel my feet sticking to the floor when I come back to the
pharmacy. No, both of you. Clean it." As she comes through the doorway, the
Pharmacy Master looks exasperated and in need of the klah she aims towards.

"And Rodric is generally very good at sharing," Kassima agrees all too
merrily. And hey, speaking of which! Kassi sets down her most recent bottle
after draining it to pick up the hide, and whatever's written on it makes
her smile very, very broadly. "We should go sing t'him *now*," she
suggests. "Because he's going t'be all tied up for the rest of the evening.
We should sing... methinks I know... there's this song." She hums a few
notes demonstratively. "Ever heard it? If'n we changed the words a bit, I
bet 'twould be *perfect*--" The arrival of an actual Healer gets a
wide-eyed look, and she does the only sensible thing: she starts stuffing
little bottles into her pockets and hisses to M'rek, "Hide me!"

M'rek looks fairly tight by now and he starts pocketing the little bottles,
purely for safety measures, if not to keep them from leaving him for Kassi.
He looks interested at the note and then laughs, "Aye, is he? Aye. We
should go sing, now. Now's always better than later." He listens and then
laughs, "Aye! I know that one well enough! Would work well w'his name. Hide
you?" Big dope that he is, he says it outloud. Then, he gets to his feet
and picks up a couch cushion and dumps it in front of Kassim, making little
bottles rattle around.

No such luck for Kassi, said Healer has spotted the visitors - though
perhaps the Telgari Wingleader should thank her lucky stars that Ayanne
doesn't have roses on her. She just has her cane, which she leans on,
looking quite amusedly puzzled. "Kassi? Been ages since I was out Telgar
way, how is Lysseth. And evening, bronzerider. I know this may sound a
little odd, but is everything alright?"

"Oh, aye," Kassima confirms with greater satisfaction than would seem
strictly called for. "And that's *exactly* m'thought. We'll go--" And this
is the point where she'd stand, except she's now half-hidden by the couch
cushion that's made its way into her lap. "Good idea. They'll never find me
here." Sad thing is, she's tipsy enough that she's not being deadpan. It
does eventually occur to her, however, that she can't sing to Rodric from
behind a couch cushion in the Healer Lounge--not even if she sings very,
very loudly, a prospect which she doubtless considers--and she steals out
from behind her makeshift fortress to stand and offer Ayanne a sheepish
sort of grin. "Methinks that's me!" is sunnily affirmed. "Lysseth's very
good, though she thinks I'm being silly, and everything's really just
peachy-fine-dandy. M'rek and I are about t'go serenade Rodric because he's
hiding a wine pool from us and really likes singing. You'll cover our
escape route so the evil ones with roses can't pounce on us, right?"

If you can't see them, they can't see you. M'rek blinks his eyes at the
Master and shifts aside as Kassi's been spotted and there's a clinking
noise from his pockets, "All right? Aye, everything's just fine. Not
injured at all, came to see your lovely hall and all the guaze and stuff
you Healers have." Which is almost true in a way. He weaves only a little
bit on his feet and there's an extra shine to his eyes to go with the smell
of alcohol on his breath. "Aye, cover our escape route!"

Ayanne's not a Healer for nothing, nope. She can cleverly analyse symptoms,
perform remarkable enzymatic (such as breath sniffing from across the room)
tests, and brilliantly diagnose: "Kassi, I swear. You're drunk, aren't
you?" Clearly, the now laughing Healer would agree with Lysseth. "You too,
M'rek, isn't it? Allright, just be sure you drink lots of water. And if you
go swimming in that wine pool, come on back, we'll find beds for you both
and strong klah in the morning. And don't worry, the roses are leashed for
the night. No roaming petals. But if they suspect that you're flying home
drunk, I'm sure they'll get lose and be on you before you get into the
courtyard."

Kassima beams brilliantly as Ayanne cleverly, cleverly figures out her
secret. "Ten points!" she jubilates. "I like you, Ayanne, have I mentioned
that? You're so *sane* for a Healer. Next time we'll come serenade you,
mayhaps. But don't worry; we'll make it back just fine, that's all a part
of the plan, and... ack, roses!" That's all the further impetus she needs
to make a dash for it, shamefully forgetting all about duties and manners,
pockets clink-clink-clinking a merry song.

You push open the swinging doors, and go into the hallway.

You head east, towards the Main Entrance.

You pass through the large bronze doors out into the courtyard.

You travel about 45 minutes east and then join the road from the Harper
Hall, turning north to head out of the Fort Hold valley itself. After about
a half day's travel you find yourself at a meeting of roads.

You leave the dust of the road behind you and pass beneath the great gates
of the harper hall.

You walk out from beneath the archway into the bustling courtyard of the
harper hall. For a moment the chaos overwhelms you, but it is easily
adjusted to.

M'rek finishes off another little individual bottle of liquor and then he
hoists back and lobs the bottle up towards where Rodric's window is.
*THUMP* This makes the bronzerider laugh drunkenly.

<Bitra> Edris says, "You do so amuse me, M'rek."

"M'rek! You despoiled that poor bottle and threw it away!" Kassima
chastises, aiming a poke at his ribs. "That's just shameful behavior, that
is." Which isn't to say she doesn't watch that window to see whether
there's any response. "He'd never nay notice a bottle of liquor flying by
if'n he was in there. We might have t'hunt. Hey, and you've got the nose
for liquor, so that should help."

<Bitra> M'rek lives to serve!

M'rek snickers so loudly it's really a snockered snort before he takes the
poke in the ribs and pokes back at the Greenrider likewise. Whenever he
moves, the bottles in his pockets rattle. "Well...We just start hitting all
the windows. He'll come down eventual-al-aly." and /this/ is the man who's
survived Lord Bitra for so long? Maybe planning is not his forte. "Aye.
Let's go get some'thin to each and check the wine cellar. All that
unopening of bottles made me hungery."

Kassima pokes back. Poke, poke, poke. It's a battle of poketry. Celebrity
Poker Showdown. "But then other people might come down and want t'share the
wine pool," she reasons. "Can't have *that*. Aye, if'n he's not with the
food he's probably with the alcohol," and so she sets off in the right
direction, albeit not entirely steadily. At least the bounce to her step
and jingle of bottles in her pockets may make up for it.

You walk down the stairs and into the welcoming smells and sounds of the
kitchen.

Harper Courtyard> M'rek lobs another bottle at Rodric's window, just
because he can. Or he can until someone comes to stop him. Maybe that
Adrien or a gaggle of female types ready to defend the honor of Rodric's
shutters. As Kassi leaves, so does M'rek, he's not going to give her a head
start on any wine either.

M'rek walks down from the courtyard.

You walk up the corridor and push through the swinging doors.

M'rek pushes his way through the swinging doors of the kitchen passageway.

Rodric smiles down at Genevieve, her hand tucked over his arm and he starts
towards the door to the Main Hall and is brought up short by the arrival of
the two riders. A grin crosses his face. "M'rek ... Kassi ..."

Genevieve's blue-green eyes follow the MasterHarper's gaze as they halt in
their steps, amusement touching on her lips, leaning a bit to murmur, "I
suppose now you have no choice but to introduce me to some of your
ever-ellusive friends." A friendly smile is given to each rider in turn.

Kassima may have gotten the idea of beating M'rek to the wine indeed, or
maybe there's some other reason her strides have lengthened so that she
hits the Hall at a rapid walk with her pockets clinking and clattering up a
storm. She comes to a fairly neat halt and openly beams back at Rodric,
sweeping him an exaggerated bow that leaves her braid sweeping against the
floor. Judging by the gleam in her eyes, she's been drinking recently.
"Masterharper, I do regret that the escort you requested was delayed," she
manages to say without too much lilt but an exaggerated formality. "Mostly
by a Healer. Y'know how they are about thwarting noble goals. But d'you
have time first for a song interlude?" The look she gives him is one of her
more winning ones, whereas Genevieve gets a friendly, tipsy, vastly
cheerful grin.

M'rek is in that condition that can be described by over a dozen words, but
in the end it's all about him rolling around with a boyish grin and a head
full of nothing. He's trotting after Kassi as if they're a couple of kids
and not Pern's most ambitious procurers of Craftmaster's private drinking
stock. He comes to a halt, almost on top of the Greenrider and then slides
a step sideways and just /snickers/. He looks over Gen as well, but then
his eyes slide back to the Masterharpers and he says with great eloquence,
"Ditto."

Rodric blinks roundly at both drunken riders, then slowly, starts to laugh.
"I ... seeee" he drawls out and scratches at the end of his nose.
"Genevieve my dear, please meet M'rek, rider of bronze Ulfianth, High
Reaches Weyr and Kassima, rider of green Lysseth, Thunderbolt wingleader at
Telgar Weyr, both persons ... dear to my heart," he makes introductions
with all due formality. Which is to say, not much in terms of tone, but
plentiful in the words. "Kassi, M'rek, this is Genevieve, Journeywoman
archivist." He winks Kassi's way. "Actually, Kassi, I wasn't expecting you
for a while longer, given Trill's ... distinct lack of discipline. I guess
it's only luck you were just next door." Wry he waxes before he's laughing
again. "A musical interlude? Is this -not- Harper Hall?"

Genevieve drops her long blonde braid - which her free hand was toying with
to smother a giggle at the state the riders arrive in, nothing but good
humor in her blue-hued eyes. "Pleasure to meet you both. I've heard so much
about - well, I've heard some about one of you. All good things, of
course." Her mezzo soprano is warm and bemused as she regards each rider in
turn quite thoughtfully, but still all in the good spirits that seem to be
so common amongst this troop.

Kassima turns around to aim one last poke towards M'rek's ribs for good
measure: sure, he didn't run into her, but it's the principle of the thing.
Not to mention that liquor seems to regress these two to the mental age of
seven. "I know you!" the greenrider announces merrily, pointing her index
finger at Genevieve. "Out in the courtyard! You hit me with snow!" Pause.
"Thankee very much for that. I'm more grateful than I can possibly
explain." Whatever reason she has for that gratitude makes her sound just
that much more cheery. She starts to ask Genevieve something--probably what
she's heard--but Rodric's answering question distracts her and she beams.

Thus reassured, the riders take up singing in unison... if maybe not
exactly harmony, given, well, sloshed out of their minds and all. It's a
tune that might be familiar to those who go in for Pern's less classy forms
of music. "Whatever Roddy wants, Roddy gets--and little lass, Proddy Roddy
wants you!" There really should be drums to go along with this. "Make up
your mind to have no regrets. Recline yourself, resign yourself, you're
scr--" Whatever that line was is obscured by a sudden spate of coughing on
Kassi's part, and a slur on M'rek's. This is, all things considered,
probably just as well.

[Editor's Note:  Yes, this is a filk of Sarah Vaughan's 'Whatever 
Lola Wants.'  All due credit to her. ;) ]

M'rek's left hand twitches, rotated around at the wrist until he supresses
it against his side and laughs, tight with all the shots they were doing at
the next hall over, on the road in between, and even in the courtyard. He's
not got much of a voice, he he makes up for it with that robust belting out
as he sings along with Kassi, "He always gets, what He aims for - And your
*slurrr* is what he came for." M'rek tips against Kassi and continues on as
if you can actually make out most of the words, "Whatever Roddy wants,
Roddy gets - Take off your *shlllurrrr*, Don't you know you can't win -
You're no exception to the rule, - He's irrezeestable you fool, Give in.."
He trails off, hand twitchy again and he's almost laughing too hard for
them to finish.

Those two apprentices that were sticking around in the back of the dining
room ... the ones who were keeping an eye on Genevieve? Well there's
round-eyed all right and STARING at the Masterharper.

Rodric starts out with a pleasant smile that slowly turns to gaping at both
riders and my goodness. The MasterHarper is actually -blushing-. That's
right folks. Blushing. Too bad there aren't cameras on Pern. And then the
laughter starts, his shoulders shaking, his head thrown back, and he's
clinging to Genevieve's arm for support as he laughs, harder and harder and
harder. Tears start to stream down his face he's laughing so hard and if
he's red in the face now, well, that's why.

Genevieve's eyes widen slightly at the start of the song, but by the second
line giggles find her, by the third, she's full out laughing - and by the
time the tune ends she cannot offer Rodric much support because she has
been reduced to a curl on the floor, laughter running through every -inch-
of her body - getting, it would seem - just about as much of a kick out of
the song as the MasterHarper himself. Her arms are wrapped about her middle
- as if so much mirth is actually making her sides hurt, and her smile is
so wide that it's nearly cracking her lips.

Kassima is by contrast entirely too relaxed by all the alcohol, to the
point where it is just not occurring *in the least* to her that there is
anything even remotely inappropriate about carolling this little ditty at
the top of her lungs to a Mastercrafter in a public place. Her voice is
quite good, and quite, quite carrying when she wants it to be. Which she
evidently does now. Wouldn't you just know. "Give in; you'll never win!"
she sings along with the bronzerider, leaning back and wrapping her arm
around his shoulder either to help hold him up, help hold herself up, or
for appropriate dramatic effect. Any of these are quite possible. "Whatever
Roddy wants--" M'rek's laughter is infectuous though, and the song briefly
pauses long enough for both of them to snicker drunkenly and no little
madly. "Roddy gets... give in, give in, you'll never win!" And on this last
flourishing note, Kassi throws her free hand up into the sky, because the
song just seems to call for posing somehow. And then she abandons all
attempt at dignity and starts laughing herself sick, pointing at Rodric's
blushing face and positively whooping with mirth.

<Bitra> Kassima says, "*Dude*. How many points for making Rodric
blush, M'rek? That has to be worth at least a thousand, right? ;)"

<Bitra> M'rek thinks so!

<Bitra> Gerome says, "no. but. at least as much as making Vorlin
smile ;)"

<Bitra> Edris says, "Neither of which I think I really want to see"

M'rek gets his arm around Kassi in proper bon-homie attitude and finishes
off the song almost right with Kassi, his final 'Never win' is just a half
beat off, but maybe it's meant to be that way. Once done he snickers again
and reaches into his pocket for another of those little drinks, smiling as
if he just got a day off from sweeps or something.

Rodric continues laughing a goodly while, wiping tears from his face and he
holds his arms out wide to both riders, much to the shock and awe of the
Apprentices and gathers them both up in a hug. "Oh my dears ... however
-did- you come up with that? I declare you both honorary Harpers!" And then
he's landing smacking smooches on both their faces before he turns to check
on Genevieve, offering her a hand up. "Are you all right m'dear?"

<Bitra> Cailin says, "Which smile, Gerome? When he's being
pleased/evil/scary, or when he's trying not to look like he's being
pleased/evil/scary, or the one where he's genuinely happy almost like a
*gasp* normal person. ;)"

<Bitra> Gerome says, "the last one"

<Bitra> Cailin oohs and has a few sets of points there then :)

Genevieve manages to get her amusement under enough control to take the
hand offered her - her other hand wiping tears away from her face - the
ear-to-ear smile still in her face. "I'm more than alright." There's a beat
pause as she runs a hand across her skirt and then she beams to the pair of
riders, "Now I can see why he likes you both so much - you're musical
geniuses." There's a wink as she smoothes down her shirt then, trying to
make herself look a little presentable as a glance is cast towards her
apprentices.

Suddenly those apprentices are -very- busy ... clearing up dishes and so on
and so forth, yep.

Kassima's more than happy happy to return the Masterharper's hug, and that
smooch too, quite enthusiastically. She's even momentarily distracted from
the realization that she's helped shock Apprentices--she'd be cackling
madly by now otherwise. "'Tis revenge!" she pipes up. "For hiding the big
pool of wine you've got on top of the roof from us *all this time*. Does
honorary Harperdom mean we can use the pool without having t'climb the
roofs now?" She's all hopeful about this. And meanwhile, she turns to
inform M'rek in an aside, "*Told* you he likes singing. Oh, oh, can't
really take the credit. S'an old song. Just, y'know, changed the lyrics
around a bit t'make it fit," and she winks at the Journeywoman then.

M'rek is also at one with the warm greetings, and he finally steps back to
snigger once more, drunk and with that look that indicates he's only half
way down with his drinking for the night, "Aye! What's all this about
reclining chairs and umbrellas?" Every time he tells it, the story get's
wilder, "And a pool of Benden's finest on the roof of the Harpercraft? If
I'd known, I'd come by sooner."

"Revenge is it, m'lady greenrider?" His gaze turns back toward Kassima,
eyes sparking brightly and he winks at her. "So many different kinds,
truly, variety is the spice of life." Eyes tilt M'rek's way briefly and he
shakes his head. "No pool of wine, but the gutters were designed to catch
Thread and channel it down into pools to drown it," he notes in "teacher"
voice. "That must have gotten exaggerated out of proportion by some ...
rascally Apprentice. Though I suppose we -could- install a vat or two up
there," he muses and grins broadly. "Harper Red from the Northern continent
anyone?"

Genevieve chuckles softly at the words, before she leans in to murmur
something in the MasterHarper's ear, a genuinely warm smile flashing to the
riders. "Please, pardon me won't you? I should speak to those apprentices
before I head to bed, the Healers have been scolding me." She dips a slight
curtsey to the pair - more out of respect for their ability to entertain
than anything else before she moves to intercept the escaping apprentices,
her more serious voice saying, "A word, boys, if you please?" Though her
smile is just as warm for the archiving apprentices.

Kassima flashes the Masterharper a grin, her eyes gleaming green back at
him. "You are nay just whistling the quaint regional melody," she promises,
smile slowly stretching into something wicked before her face falls. "Nay
pool of...? Awww, and here swimming around in wine while drinking the
little bottles sounded like such a nice idea. Oh!" She's reminded now of
those bottles, and fishes out two from her pockets--not to drink, but to
offer to Rodric with a flourish. "Loot from our ransack of Healer Hall.
Such a great and glorious pillage 'twas. And M'rek even hid me from the
Healers, would you believe? 'Twill never, never say nay t'good wine."
Genevieve gets an agreeable nod: "A'course, a'course. Duties and stuff too;
methinks I forgot that part earlier."

"Bah. Knew it was too good, but you can't help but dream the impossible
dream." M'rek manages to get the words out, reasonably coherent. "Harper
red for the vats on the roof?" There's a nod to the departing Journyrank
and then the Bronzerider is looking around the Hall as if distracted. A
quick smile moves back to the Harper and the Rider and M'rek says, "Aaa,
for drinking, then. Well. You can without me, I've..a thing to do at a
place with a person."

Rodric bends down to hear what Gen says and nods very slightly, squeezing
her hand. "Sleep well when you go my dear, until tomorrow" he says to her
affectionately, kisses her cheek and watches her out with just a hint of
worry to his eyes, before he's laughing once more and taking those bottles
from Kassima. "Loot eh?" he shakes the bottles and eyes the contents
swirling. "He hid you huh? M'rek ... so many hidden talents!" he exclaims.
Then he considers a moment. "I could -make- you a wine pool to swim in
Kassi ... would that suit?" and his brows waggle at her expressively. He
starts to uncap one of the small bottles and then looks M'rek's way. "No
drinking? No? But M'rek ... I've missed you so!"

"And fight the unbeatable foe," Kassi agrees, almost singing the line.
"Which is your spe... spesh... the thing you do." A sagacious nod follows
this assertion. "Awww, M'rek--guess we'll just have t'all get drunk
together sometime soon then. Only thing for it. Make sure you stay toasty,
aye? 'Tis chilly out." She brightens and bounces on her feet with open
glee, wheedling to Rodric, "Could you, could you, could you? I'd be so
very, *very* grateful."

M'rek looks about to say something, but then he rubs a hand over his head
and flashes a smile that might not be as drunk as his serenade was. "I've
missed you as well, Rodric. But. You know how it is." He looks from the
Harper to the Greenrider in a kind of knowing fashion and then waves and
sidles towards the exit, "I'll catch you both another time, M'sure. Aye,
that thing I do. Night Kassi, night Rodric, have a good one."