Chaos and Hot Cookin' Talk

Monaco Bay Weyr - Lunar Shoals Pier
The Lunar Shoal Pier stretches past the docks as a long structure with two stories. Rather than a traditional door, the building boasts two sliding panels that are pulled upwards when the establishment is open for business. Sturdy panels of dark redwood soar upwards, forming the walls from which paper lanterns hang. The first floor seems to be divided into several areas, each for slightly different sort of entertainment. Immediately to the left of the entrance are two pool tables, several dart boards, and a handful of designated areas for drinking and card games. To the right is a wide expanse housing only the flash of multi-colored lights and the dancing feet of patrons.

The lighting dims as one ventures farther inwards, lending a more relaxing atmosphere to this area of the building. A spiral staircase is settled in far left corner, leading to a terrace that overlooks the first story. Tables and chairs are set up here, as well as a small snack kitchen from which workers constantly seem to be rushing back and forth. Lest safety become an issue, black railings keep the more inebriated patrons from a long tumble downwards. Taking up the remaining length of the back wall, is the establishment’s most important feature - the bar. Multiple shelves are lined with bottles upon bottles of alcohol, leaving no question as to how well Lunar Shoal is stocked. Several stools are available for those who prefer to be closer to their drinks, however couches and low slung tables are also littered around the area for those seeking a more comfortable seat.

And now, perhaps the most remarkable feature….instead of the drab wooden planks that line the dock, the floor of the Lunar Shoal Pier is made of pure glass. The thick panes provide a clear view of the churning waters below, allowing customers an unimpeded view of frothy waves and the occasional dolphin. The bright blue of the ocean is reflected upwards, casting a shimmering glow onto the ceiling from which the establishment’s second eccentricity hangs.

The skeleton of a massive fish is suspended in mid-air, it’s form reaching at least half the length of Pern’s largest green. It’s maw hangs open to display a fearsome set of sharp teeth, some several feet tall. Another bony frame, a smaller fish with one deformed fin, hovers in the air. It’s positioned as if it were attempting to flee the predatory creature…but perhaps not fast enough.

Mid-morning means that the Lunar Shoals is primarily inhabited by the Weyr's drunkards, but the bar also serves food…which would explain some of the less inebriated patrons. What it doesn't explain is Reya's presence - on a ladder. The tiny goldrider has set up a large ladder in the middle of the floor and she's already halfway up it, even as people are attempting to tug her down. "But I just want to touch the teeth, it'll. be. FIIINE!" The woman attempts to pry off a man's hands that have clamped firmly on her ankle…thus far she seems entirely unsuccessful. "You're going to ruin the whole place, Reya!" Some poor apprentice is currently holding the ladder steady, and it's only fear of mortal danger that keeps him from bolting as the makeshift tug-of-war continues.

He was here to discuss something with the cooks at this particular establishment, but Isaija's interest is inexorably drawn to the ladder-related shenanigans ensuing near the fishy skeleton. It's the sheer number of people that are trying to pry the Weyrwoman down that draws a raised eyebrow. "I can understand being hands-on with one's work but that- excuse me. Excuse me! But you are making it far more perilous for our dear Weyrwoman by getting all handsy with her." His seat is abandoned, the cook stretching up to his full height. The ladder is approached thusly, his head high and shoulders squared and overall bearing one of utter and shameless confidence - because of course he is. "Do you need assistance, Weyrwoman? I can add some of these souls to the drudge's stew as you like."

The tumbling locks in Reya's ponytail that have been swaying to and fro suddenly still now as all attention turns to the cook. Though hands remain steadfastly attached to her ankles the people have at least stopped tugging, perhaps taken aback by the cook's height. "She's going to knock the sharding thing down!" One of the men protests with a grumble, but given the cook's demeanor he isn't about to argue right now. There's a moment of hesitation on the worker's part because Reya could decline the help, but….she definitely does not. In fact, her entire face lights up once Isaija is standing at his full height and her eyes gleam with fiendish amusement. "I would love some assistance, almost as much as I would love Monaco stew, of the human variety!"

Much better! "She'll only knock it down if the lot of you keep tugging on her," Isaija replies with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, really. But, here- a round of ale on me, and some snacks for the rest of the lot," is called over his shoulder to the barkeep and cooks. Might as well give them something else to get their hands on, right? It's obvious bait, but he's good for it (and who doesn't want free food and drinks?) His attention returns promptly to Reya with an impish spark in his gaze. "As you like, Weyrwoman. How should this humble cook best assist you? I'm not sure you can reach it from my shoulders, but-"

"Alright alright….just….watch her!" The small group of people begrudgingly steps away, their attention finally claimed by the offer of food and drinks. They are stepping as far aways as possible however and eventually the alcohol and snacks are bustled into the far corner of the establishment. And as for Reya? Well she is allllll smiles for the cooke now. Her perch on the ladder makes her juuuuust a couple inches taller than Isaija, which is certainly a feet because she's a good foot shorter than him. "But we could try, and if not…we could challenge them to a game of chicken!" She's an adult, really….somehow. There's a glimmer in her eyes as she leans in, almost too close perhaps, to examine him for a moment and then proceeds to stick out her hand (presumably to shake!). "Reya, though you already know that. I don't think we've had the pleasure of doing more than passing each other in the halls!"

"Oh, I will," is passing reassurance to those that fuss over the Weyrwoman's present situation. Isaija puts them out of mind as swiftly as they disperse to indulge in treats. His attention remains on Reya, head tipped back just that little bit to regard her from her present perch. "Ha! We could. But I think we'd win; I'm a terrible chicken." The worst. Really. Still, the cook sidles up to the ladder, making that close examination just that much easier - and likely returning it, for that matter. Her hand is deftly taken and given a proper, respectful shake. But, if she's not quick about retrieving her hand, she'll end up with an equally respectful kiss to the back of her hand. "I did, indeed, Weyrwoman - or Reya, as you prefer? I'm Isaija. Common cook or master of meat," he can go either way with it, really, but he's delighted all the same. "We might not have met before, but I'd be surprised if you haven't eaten something I've prepared."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm particularly vicious then, I'm sure it'd be quite a spectacle if nothing," Reya's eyes continue to gleam with amusement as she watches the cook. Soon an outright laugh escapes her lips when that kiss is dropped and she follows up with what is supposed to be a curtsy. But she is on a ladder, so that doesn't go too well honestly. It's a surprise she doesn't go tumbling down immediately. "It's been turns since I've met a true gentleman around here!" Mostly because pretty much everyone knows she's a little hellion and not at all deserving of nice manners. "Given my penchant for non-vegetable foods, I bet I have eaten your stuff before, Meat Master." Oh dear, she's going to stick to that now. She's going to stick to that for a very long time. "So what's a tall bite of jerky," oh she is the worst, "like you doing out here in the middle of the morning? Besides saving me from handsy people with sticks up their butt?"

Fortunately, Isaija's watching (like he's supposed to!), so even if she did take a tumble, he'd be swift to swoop in to rescue as needed. A supportive arm is offered all the same - an act of sheer, gentlemanly instinct, really. Those praises, though? Oh, those will certainly inspire a certain devilish light in his eyes. Isa's head tips just a little in concession, his grin wide and bright. "Today seems to be your lucky day, then! Not just a gentleman but a meat master - and a saucy conversationalist." That isn't sauced, but the day is young! He laughs, reaching over to grip the ladder for the time being. "Ah! Just here to spice things up with the cooks over yonder," sayeth said tall bite of jerky. "But they don't quite appreciate my meaty offerings as I suspect you might." His grin goes lopsided. "How do you like your meat?"

Reya will take that arm, only to use it to boost her further up on the ladder. She settles on the next step up, giving her a bit more height,before she's leaning over to place elbows on both knees and chin on her hands. "My lucky day indeed!" there's a pleasant laugh from the woman, so sweet and light - which differs greatly from gleaming eyes. "Pity, they've clearly got a lot to learn from a Meat Maestro like yourself. We'll just…roast them into submission." She's not even good at the puns! But that doesn't stop her from trying. And as for how she likes her meat? Well…the Weyrwoman leans back, elbows now moving to ladder rungs as she tries to look all effortlessly laid back (it's probably only a minor success), "I believe…tender and juicy are at least two keywords." One of the men in the back is definitely choking back a laugh at this entire conversation - he's also choking on his beer. Serves him right!

Consider him an especially useful tool for her to gain that added bit of height on the ladder; the man just likes to be useful! Once she's perched, the cook leans back a little, grinning up at her without shame. Bad puns? Isaija laughs all the same, shameless in his enjoyment of the junk food of the conversational world. "Meat Maestro!" He loves it enough to take a hearty bite of that new title! "They'll just be burnt ends when we're through. Fit for a good saucing." … okay, he's not better at puns. Sorry. He's trying. While she attempts to lounge - sort of? - he's perfectly at ease with his hands on his hips, thumbs hooked in beltloops - where apron string would usually be on him, so it's an easy pose to take either way. "Tender and juicy, mm? Not a fan of the gristle?" Amused side-eye is shot to Sir Chokes-on-Beer there. "How about spicy? Maybe a little salty? Or a bit more on the peppery side?" There's a spectrum there, apparently.

"A good saucing indeed!" Reya's gaze abruptly shifts to the group in the corner, who quickly avert their eyes to try and hide their amusement. The can't really. There's a round of quiet snickering however, and for just a brief moment Reya's eyes soften with what is probably affection for the Weyrfolk…but then she's back to fiendishness. "Spicy, definitely spicy…salt is great, but…frankly the hotter the better, no?" Look at her trying to be all cool, and laidback, and witty. The thing is, she is usually coordinated but right now she is on a ladder and that is not boding well. So, she's just going to lose her fitting the slightest! But look, see? She has it, it's fine, she only slipped down one rung! "So…what are your preferences?" JUST IGNORE THE FUMBLING. It's FINE.

Honestly, he can't blame them for that snickering and amusement. Faranth knows that Isaija would be right there with them if he wasn't on the receiving end of this pun-parade. "Oh, ho! A woman after my own heart," he declares, his smile unwavering - until she takes that little bit of a slip! There's no fall, thank Faranth, but he's right there and will snap an arm out to help forestall any future slides. Alarm is brief, but quickly masked with his cool as a cucumber, er, coolness. "Give me some solid heat and I'm good to go," he replies, brows lifting - but, he has the good taste not to waggle them. Yet. "But otherwise- yes. Something with some bite, definitely rare…" he trails off there with a thoughtful hum, his gaze briefly tracking upward to Reya's previously sought prize before cutting to a sidelong look at the Weyrwoman. "There are some peppers that I've been meaning to experiment with, if you'd care to- ah, lend your tongue."

"My my, we only met 5 minutes ago and you're asking to borrow the Weyrwoman's tongue?" Don't worry, she'll waggle the brows for him. But that saucy look on her face is quickly replaced with amusement and perhaps even a hint of eagerness, "That does actually sound fun though! Wait…can I try a recipe?" What he doesn't know is how she tried to make cheesecake with actual cheddar once…but what he doesn't know can't hurt him, right? There's a broad grin that is the very picture of innocence from the slight woman, accompanied by a pleading gaze. "It'd be much more fun instead of just tasting things, you know? It could be one of the cuts of meat that isn't that great!" C'MOOOOOON. PLEASSSEEEEE.

(Un)fortunately for all involved, Isaija is a remarkably trusting soul in most respects. Also, he really likes tasting new food. This might be his undoing some day. "My dear Weyrwoman," he replies, a hand fluttering up to touch the exposed 'V' of his chest in a gesture that's somehow coquettish. "If I have offended you, then please accept my apologies." And there's his grin again, bright and playful and with a laugh at the edges. "Ah! With a look like that? How can I resist? You make something and I make something and we can try a little bit of both, mm? Maybe get a good wine or- oh, maybe even a fine ale or…" He's going to die, isn't he. He trails off, considering drink options already, with no clue of just what Reya has in mind for her own dish.

There's only a 98% chance that he will die, but Reya isn't about to tell him that. Instead she is alllll smiles! "Well, if I had been offended," which she hadn't, "this makes up for it immediately! Now, where is the battle going to be? Here? The kitchens?" Hold on…when did this become a battle? She'll just gloss over that wording with another one of those terribly eager looks. But just as soon as it seems they've settled on one topic, she glances around and seems to recall her original goal…the hanging skeleton. It appears while he ponders that she's going to stand back up and view the teeth from afar, "Shoulders…ladder…jump…perfect…." And what follows next would be quite the ominous chuckle under her breathe!

He'll take that 2%! Unknowingly but still. His relief is real, a sigh escaping him - just as the mention of this becoming a battle seems to slip his understanding. "I imagine," the cook considers, "that they'd be more than happy to have it here, if it meant we could share with the patrons." And he wouldn't mind cooking for the regular folk, either! Free labor for the bar! Isaija hasn't moved much from his conversational spot, fortunately; those muttered calculations will work well in her favor, since it doesn't seem like he's about to move any time soon, either. Has he forgotten about the fish-teeth already? Surely not. And, yet, he's glancing around some, humming a bit as he considers this or that or some other thing, the gears of his mind just clicking right along all the while that Reya's ominously chuckling.

"Ohhh, YES! We should invite everyone…now hold still, ok?" It's quite sudden and without permission that Reya is putting her hand on the cook's shoulder before attempting to hoist herself onto him. "You know, I," grunt, "bet we could make," huff, "a whole debacle out of it!" Her efforts are perhaps marginally successful. The real issue is when she attempts to try standing on him. Fortunately she is a tiny thing and doesn't have the worst balance in the world so this could go alright. "You ever seen one of these fish things before? It'd be cool if we had one of these we could use the meat from." She's just babbling nonsense now, because her attention is on those teeth. Some people go oooh shiny. Reya goes oooh POINTY! "No but really, we'll have dancing, singing, taste testing, desserts…it'll be amazing!"

"Of course!" This is not at all what Isaija was thinking when the idea was originally pitched but, hey, the man knows how to go with the flow, okay. The moment Reya's hand touches his shoulder, he freezes - but he doesn't stiffen up, either. He just holds steady, looking straight ahead while she attempts to maneuver into place on his shoulders. It's only if she seems to struggle that he'll reach - awkwardly - to try to help her navigate into position. Thank Faranth that he's as sturdy as he looks! He glances up, only to shift his gaze straight ahead again when he realizes she's actually standing on him. His hands lift to lay claim to her calves, securing her into position (hopefully) "I've seen some big fish," he admits with a laugh, "but I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like our friend up there." He wets his lips briefly in thought as she continues to natter on, though his thoughts are definitely in the same vein. "Should we have more cooks? More experimental cooks? Perhaps- ah! Everyone must use the same peppers, but they can make whatever they like?" oh no

Good thing he's got a grip on her calves now because she is reeeeeeaching…and not quite tall enough still, so up on her tip toes she goes! "Wait…does that mean I can make dessert?" Her quest is briefly paused so she can glance down at him, but only briefly. As soon as she hears an answer she's back to reaching and finally finally laying a single finger on the edge of those sharp teeth. "Oh those are pointy!" That's the sound of pure delight as she takes a look at her finger and then begins gauging the distance between her and the floor. "A pepper cook-off! I like the sound of it…though we'll have to come up with a better name…." Are his ears tired of hearing her prattle yet? "Hey, can I jump off?" Every now and then among the nonsense is something that is probably good to pay attention to - like that dangerous question. "I bet I could somersault once before I land!" Honestly, Fuerioth is the only reason Monaco doesn't burn.

"Why couldn't you make dessert?" Isaija sounds baffled at the very idea. "Of course you can make dessert!" As she reaches up, his grip holds steady and he shifts just a little to make sure her footing remains as stable as he can make it. A brow wings skyward at her declaration of pointiness but, really, that's what she was after, wasn't it? "A pepper cook-off," he agrees brightly. "A spicy soiree? A pepper party?" If he's tired of hearing her talk, there is no sign of it; he still seems very engaged, even if some thing escape his notice right away. It takes him a moment to realize just what she's asking to do and then he's looking up, cross-eyed, to consider her from his awkward position. "Ah! Of course," hey, he was just asked to watch her, not stop her. "Hold on, let me move just a little over here…" Mostly to avoid the risk of tables and chairs. It might not be very effective. He cautiously removes his hands once he's in position, freeing her to do as she will. "But, yes! Absolutely, Weyrwoman." For the cook-off? For the somersault? For all of the above? Yes.

"Ohhhh, a spicy soiree! I like that one!" Reya is full of nothing but enthusiasm as she holds steady (for the moment) until they make their way to a clear area. Those people in the corner? The humor is turning into a mild form of panic now. "Uh…Weyrwoman…." One of them speaks up, only to quickly quiet as Reya begins to bend at the knees. Disaster appears to be but a few seconds away when an icy cold sweeps over all of those present, « Enough! Faranth knows how you've survived this long! » Pure darkness accompanies what feels like a blizzard - ice, snow, and cold make the experience just short of playful. It is enough though and Reya lets out a grumbling sigh, "Fuerioth, always ruining the fun." Never mind that's she's had plenty of fun thus far. A mock-whisper lets Isa in on a not so hidden secret, "You know, she's a stick in the mud."

"Excellent!" And, so, a spicy soiree is born! Conceptually, anyway. Faranth knows how organizing it will go, because that's not Isaija's forte. And while those folks in the corner might be worried, the cook isn't. Surely the Weyrwoman knows her limits, right? Of course she must. And yet- there comes that chill, the kind of cold that sinks into the bones and brings goosebumps right along with it. The cook shudders, only for his nose to wrinkle once that moment passes. "Jays," he mutters. "Well! Should I move you back to the ladder to get off or-" he glances to the worried sorts in the corner, "see if they might want to play a game of chicken instead?" His hands return to her calves in the interim, securing her in place once more. There's a soft huff of a laugh at that secret admission and he adds, "Ah, I'm sure she has her reasons."

"Hmmm….just toss me on that couch over there?" Reya is perhaps complaining to Fuerioth right now, but the gold doesn't disapprove of this plan at seems. Thankfully there are many couches at the Lunar Shoals and given how early it is most of them still remain unoccupied. "So, besides coming up with spicy soirees and providing assistance for those of us that are vertically challenged, what do you do?" She's a nosy woman, many people already realize that…Isa is about to learn that too!

"As you like!" Isaija is all grins for this course of action and he susses out a likely cushioned candidate. He ventures that way with a slow, purposeful stride, only to carefully move to lob the Weyrwoman onto the plush pile of pillows and cushioning that makes the couch. Careful lobbing might sound like an oxymoron, but it really isn't. He'll only answer once she's appropriately situated: "I'm a cook, mostly," see also: previous meat maestro talk "But that's really it. I like coming to the bar sometimes and I enjoy a good night out." He waggles a hand vaguely. "Boring as ash, otherwise, I'm afraid. What do you do when you're not busy? Or poking fish?"

There's a whoop of delight as Reya flies through the air and lands squarely on some cushion. After a moment she'll sit up, tucking her legs beneath her and grabbing on a pillow to squish in her arms…for fun! "A cook that drinks and is boring as ash? You seem like you have a bit more to you than that! I mean, you can't just sleep and eat and cook and drink and then do it all over again." OR CAN YOU! "Me? I do everything and anything I feel like…well, mostly." Fuerioth doesn't always allow that. "Mostly stir up fun though." Or chaos.

"It's the truth!" Isaija replies with a laugh. "But I love my work more than I probably should - and I absolutely could do that, every day, and be pretty happy." Easy! He flops on the couch next to her, stretching out a little, but not enough to impede in her space. "Going out to meet with merchants, testing new spices, trying my hand at a little gardening…" he trails off there, sliding a look over to her to make sure her eyes aren't totally glazed over. But then there's a grin and a wink for her can-do-all-the-things-attitude and he laughs again, low and throaty. "You're doing an excellent job of that, Reya. You're every kind of fun under the sun, that's what you are." Or maybe that's the smell of danger? Either way!

"Ohhh, well I guess when you put it that way you're doing much more than just cooking!" She is listening, though that may be surprising given her overall persona! "Do you have to travel far for the merchants? I guess we get most everything delivered here, but surely there's some specialty stuff you have to search far and wide for?" She's definitely imaging him trekking through the desert somewhere. At his next words though, the weyrwoman is practically puffing up. "Why, thank you!" Maybe it's a combination of both, "You should spread the word about that, they've a tendency to label my fun as crazy." What a ridiculous notion!

"Sometimes! But not as often as I'd like," he admits. "Sadly, I don't have a dragonrider in my pocket to go on a whim, so-" Isaija trails there, the specter of scheduling looming large. "But I've been all over, tasting little bits from everywhere I go. Though I'm sure you've been to many more places and tried more things!" Hold that mental image, Reya; he definitely has done that at least once. Totally worth it. It's that last that gets his grin glowing, practically radiant. "Well, you know. One woman's fun is another man's crazy or- something like that, eh? I think it sounds fun. Let them think it's crazy." Vague hand motions ensue, which results in him very nearly smacking a firelizard that pops out of between. The wee blue squawks, drops a missive in his lap, and is gone immediately. He peeks at the note and grimaces. "Eh? Oh. Oh. I'm sorry, it looks like I'm being summoned." OoooOOOooh. DOOM.

"Well, I'm sure we could accost someone from the transport wing if you really needed it!" Reya grins broadly, and perhaps a bit manically as Isa goes onto talk about crazy. "We'll have our fun and they can have their opinions!" Which is when the flit arrives and he has been called away. "Just tell them I kept you if you get in trouble." Because the worst that can happen is they throw her in the dungeon for a few days, right? "Good to meet you though…surely I'll see you around!"

"Ah! But of course!" Isaija reluctantly pushes to his feet, the note tucked away in a pocket. "Well, you do know what they say about opinions and arse- oh, I'm going already," he's interrupted by the blue - that isn't even his - popping back to nag him a final time. "Thank you, Weyrwoman," is exasperated (but not at her!) and he flashes her a dazzling smile before dipping into a quick bow (with a flourish, even!). "It is a pleasure to meet you, too. Clear skies, Weyrwoman Reya! I'm sure we'll see each other again!" And then he's off, a spring in his step and a spicy soiree in his head.

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