[LOG] In Which An Old Acquaintance Is Renewed and Things Are Thrown
Setting: Surya's Coffeehouse
Dramatis Personae: Dinah, Cyrus, Arabella, Isabelle, Ula, Mostyn, Mozart, Glanworth, Caine
Cyrus enters the coffeehouse to discover an old flame has come to town and it goes downhill from there.
Cyrus enters just behind Isabelle. He is carrying several bags and a rather large box. He is having trouble getting everything through the door.
Dinah settles into her chair, long legs spreading out beneath the table. "Tea," she requests from the server that passes, before occupying herself with fixing the brim of her hat that rests on the chair beside her.
Isabelle walks in, beside her a rather large, over 200 pound, black dog. She has her hands in her pockets and is carrying a bag too, but she is nowhere near as encumbered as Cyrus. She says, "The coat might be too small."
Cyrus says, "How can it possibly be too small? It's in a box the size of Begma."
Arabella murmurs an order then arranges herself more comfortably. The door, the dog, the man, the woman claim her attention and she smiles then calls, "Cousin."
Isabelle says, "If you were any kind of help," as if teasing Cyrus, "You'd try it on." Taking off her mittens, she waves to Arabella, smiling.
Cyrus hears Arabella's voice but he can't see over all the packages. He bumps into an empty chair and apologizes to it.
Dinah only looks up when her tea has arrived, passing some coin to the server as her blue eyes start to wander again. They pause on Cyrus, and her lips curve into a smile like a shark might have.
Ula is seated with Mostyn and Glanworth, talking quietly. She's drinking tea, and presently holding a folded letter in her lap.
Isabelle walks over to Cyrus, offering to take some of the packages. "Here, Bella is over there, Cyrus." Her chin glances toward Arabella.
Cyrus attempts to hand some things to Isabelle.
Dinah sips at her tea, and smiles just a bit wider. Why could be anyone's guess.
Arabella's coffee has been delivered. She catches the server to order tea for two before rising. "Belle," the name is almost a laugh. "We might need an extra table for your purchases."
Isabelle takes the packages and piles them into her arms. This way Cyrus can see. She grins at Arabella though, "Yes, we had a pretty successful shopping trip."
Cyrus breathes a sigh of relief and says, "Bella. Hi." He unloads as much as he can around Arabella's table. He can't seem to find a spot for the huge coat box, though.
Isabelle reaches for the box. "I'll take that. Maybe we can order coffee," the slant of her smile is up a bit more on one side than the other, "And you can try this on." Her eyes twinkle, as if with mischief. "How are you Bella?"
Dinah tosses back her tea like it was something a bit more alcoholic. Without a word, or standing, her teacup is hurled across the room. The dainty little thing seems aimed for Cyrus' head.
Arabella takes a moment to admire the rather large box. "What the devil did you stuff in there, a tie rotator?"
Mostyn glances up from the table as the teacup goes flying through the air, with bright-eyed interest.
Isabelle is about to wave to Mostyn, when she sees the teacup. She doesn't need to step out of the way, but she does anyway, just to be helpful to Cyrus. Her big black dog watches it arc acros the room -- he wags his tail.
Cyrus says to Isabelle, "Tristan and I aren't the same size. He's much tall--ow!" He turns around, his hand going to a dagger at his hip. "Who the--?" he begins and then stops as if something far heavier than a piece of china has hit him. "D-Dinah?" he says. He then follows this up with an eloquent, "Whuh."
Ula looks up at the sound of china breaking, eyes wide and startled.
Arabella's gaze drifts to Dinah. When Cyrus does not draw, she stands down and moves closer to Belle, murmuring, "Men are always so eloquent."
Dinah is still sitting, and still smiling. "Hullo," the blonde offers. "Cyrus." It's more spitting out a name than saying it, really. "Miss me?" The little plate that the teacup is now in her hand, as if she's testing its weight.
Martin walks in.
Isabelle's eyebrows raise, and she steps closer to Bella in the same way. They could be Cyrus cheerleaders, helpfully standing back while he shames Shakespeare. "It looks like Cyrus isn't as much of a loner as he seems." She sets the big box down on a chair.
Cyrus watches the saucer. In fact, he addresses his next words to the little plate. "Um," he begins. "You're in Amber," he observes. For a man who spends his life on ships, Cyrus looks decidedly lost at sea. "How've you been?" he asks and then winces as if he has said the worst possible thing.
Martin looks around the coffee house as though he expects guys with daggers to leap out in front of him at any second. "Hi!" he says in general. "Mostyn, Addison said while I was in Dworkin's lab with Brand to come find you. So, here I am."
Arabella comments to Belle, eyes not leaving the tableux, "There is the impression of dating and it ending badly. My cousin is certainly not scoring points with these Bardic responses."
Ula places her tea cup down very carefully, then puts her hand on the edge of the table as if preparing to retreat to under the table. She pauses, looking from Mostyn to Martin with a mild blink.
Mostyn stares at Martin. Then stands, leaving his tea behind.
"You're very observant, aren't ye?," Dinah says towards Cyrus, at his comment about her being in Amber. "Oh, I'm starting to feel better than I have in decades." The plate is tossed like a frisbee at Cyrus' head.
Mostyn hurries over to Martin, and mutters, "Let's get moving before they start throwing the cutlery, I think."
Isabelle pauses to say, "Hello Martin." The table nearby is full of packages, there is a broken teacup on the floor not far from Cyrus (in fact, as if it ricocheted off the back of his head). She mentions to Bella, "He's definitely not doing well. But she looks Interesting."
George, Isabelle's dog, trots over to Martin to nose-polish his shoes in greeting.
Ula slowly tucks her letter away into her jacket, keeping a careful eye on both thrower and throwee.
Martin says, "Its ok, man. Isabelle's here. And George. Hey George." He bends down to scritch George behind the ears, "Hey Fella, hows it going?"
Cyrus almost ducks in time to avoid the saucer. It glances off the side of his head but does not break. It sails toward George.
Martin is hit with the saucer. He doesn't expect that.
Arabella cheers, "Good show, Cyrus." To Belle, "At least his reflexes are quicker than his tongue."
Cyrus stands again, quickly and scans Dinah's table for other potential projectiles.
George, however, is an expert at avoiding explosions from his years living in Begma. He tucks his ass-end under and scoots behind Martin.
Mostyn takes a step over to stand between Martin and any further ricochets. "Was there anything particular you needed me for?"
Cyrus puts up his hands. "Hey, Dinah," he says. "Can we talk about this before any innocents get hurt?"
Dinah looks much put out, as all that remains is the tiny little spoon brought over to add sugar to her tea. She even frowns, then glares at Cyrus. The spoon is given Much Consideration.
Martin nearly trips back over George. "Ouch! Crap." He curses. "I don't know. Addison said to find you."
Mozart blinks as he enters. "Did I wander into the meadhall?"
Ula gestures eloquently for a moment. "Well. It seems I'm not the only one to draw the comparison," she murmurs.
Isabelle says, "Lord Mostyn. Your Highness Martin, I'd like to introduce you to Lady Arabella." Make no mistake, Isabelle keeps an eye on Cyrus and Dinah. There is a sparkly look in her eyes. It might look cunning on someone else, but on a daughter of the House of Flora it might look radiant.
George helpfully peers around Martin's legs.
Cyrus keeps his eyes on the spoon. He takes a slow, cautious step towards the possessor of that spoon. "Been in town long?" he asks and then winces again as if he has no control over the words coming out of his mouth.
Arabella manages to dip a curtsey and keep her eyes on the former skirmishers at the same time. "A pleasure, Lord Mosty, Highness. Do mind the crockery toss. That last was a fair googly even if it did not hit on target."
Mostyn says to Martin, quietly, "You could have called..." Then turns his attention, and a polite bow, to Arabella.
Arabella does manage to give Cyrus a very depressed, 'oh no you didn't just say that' look in the back.
George tries a gentlemanly woof as if to warn Martin ahead of time of perhaps more oncoming cafe accoutrements.
Dinah makes a sound that might be amusement. "Just arrived in port. With Peril." Something about that makes her smile absolutely brilliant. Deft fingers wrap around the elegant little spoon.
Mozart purses his lips and he considers the hearth. He snags a cup as a tray passes, almost absentmindedly.
Martin gives Arabella a smile, its a rock star smile. "Ack!" he notices the oncoming onslaught and manages to get out of the way this time. "I had to come to the city anyway. No way out of the lab!" He flails a hand.
Martin looks aside at George, "Thanks, buddy."
Isabelle says, "Hello Giacomo," to Mozart, and casting a smile Mozart's way too. "Have you met Lady Arabella?"
Ula bows her head, stepping away from her table. She follows the lines of the wall to head for the door, trying to avoid placing herself in the line of fire between Cyrus and Dinah, gaze firmly fixed on the floor.
Mozart's eyes snap up from the fire, and suddenly, there's a smile. "No!"
Mostyn nods to Martin. "Right, well, I'm here, and I am sure I can go talk to Addison in a few. Just a moment." He dashes off to intercept Ula before she can make it to the exit.
Cyrus takes a couple more steps toward Dinah. "Peril," he says as if uttering a vulgarity. "You're sailing with Peril." He clears his throat, "Is he here, too?" His hand falls upon his dagger again.
George helpfully sits on Martin's foot.
Arabella delivers a winning smile, as winning as one can when faced with projectiles and a cousin doing badly. "A pleasure, Giacomo." When Cyrus's hand falls to his dagger, hers searches for something and not finding the object, smoothes the sides of her skirt to cover the gesture.
Ula is interceptable. It's a big room, she's a small woman, and she's keeping a wary eye out for poorly aimed projectiles. Granted, the green hair, short stature and being a girl suggests she wouldn't be mistaken for Cyrus, but One Never Knows. She stops as she sees Mostyn headed her way, giving him a brief look.
Martin rubs his forehead where the cup hit him, smiles at Isabelle. He glances downa t George. "I wonder if Dogs can swim in Rebma?"
Glanworth circles around the edge of the fracas, headed for the street.
"I take back what I said about you being observant. Do you see Peril here?" Dinah's head tilts slightly as she asks the question. "And yes, I'm sailing with Peril. I'm his partner. Temporarily, at least." The spoon is tossed, then, aimed for Cyrus' hand on his dagger. "I thought we were being polite," she hisses.
Isabelle walks a few steps closer to Martin saying, "George walked down the stairs with me. He does fine, but then he's smarter than most dogs. So I warned him ahead of time that it would be strange." Eye on the whole matter. Belle stores Evidence for Later Use on Cyrus.
Mozart smiles again. "Well, you don't know me well, then, milady, but thank you."
The spoon raps Cyrus's knuckles before landing underneath a table. He removes that had from his knife and then smiles, "Polite. Yes. Well, I'm glad Anders has signed you on as his partner because he certainly can't sail that piece of garbage he calls a ship on his own."
Arabella, fingers of right hand twitching for something that still is not there, clasps her hands together and turns her attention to Mozart. "A first meeting is always a pleasure," she replies. "It is the subsequent ones that so often spoil the first impression."
Martin smiles at Isabelle, this time its sincere. He looks agitated, maybe he's had too much caffein today. "Good to know. Er, how are you?"
Isabelle then spots Glanworth. Her dark brows creep up.
Isabelle replies to Martin though, "I'm fine, really. Hey, isn't that the famous Begman boxer?" As if Martin would know.
Mostyn bows slightly to Ula, and makes his way cautiously back towards Martin, with an eye towards any more projectiles in the air.
Ula turns to resume her course towards the door, head tucked downwards.
Mozart says, "Ah, yes...quite observant, milady.""
Dinah looks insulted. She moves to her feet, the motion making her chair crash to the floor. "I'll remind you that it is currently *my* ship as well." Cyrus very well may have just Horribly insulted the woman, what with her lips pulled into the snarl they now bare.
Ula leaves the coffeehouse.
Arabella mutters under her breath, "Oh dear. Now he's done it." Then she lifts her voice to call, "Cousin, why don't you introduce us to the lovely young woman? Before she hits you in the head. Again."
Martin drags mostyn by the arm and tugs him out the door. "I'll catch you later, Belle." He tells her as he reaches down to scritch George.
Mostyn is accordingly dragged along.
Isabelle says, "Goodbye, Martin," smiling from the depths of her eyes, too.
George wags his tail.
Martin and Mostyn leave the coffeehouse.
Mozart turns to the pair, cup halfway to his lips. Where it pauses upon seeing the blonde really, really pissed off.
Cyrus laughs, getting some confidence back. "Yes, Arabella. Good idea." He makes appropriate gestures about the room as he says, "Arabella Mutti, Princess Isabelle, er, a bunch of other people, allow me to introdce Captain Discordia of the Golden Apple." He fixes his gaze upon Dinah's eyes. It is steady and defiant but not without a trace of affection. "I prefer to address you by your proper title. Not whatever Peril's got you slumming on."
Arabella looked hopeful, the kind that appears when you become awfully proud of someone, but then those last sentences hit. She quietly covers her face with a hand, head shaking.
Isabelle's eyes go back to Glanworth, and there is real recognition there. She is about to speak, to greet him, when Cyrus introduces her. She walks forward then, saying, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain."
Glanworth squints at Isabelle, and halts his egress, but does not interefere with piratical introductions.
Dinah's hands grip the edge of her table and she leans across it slightly. "Lady, Highness, various others. A pleasure." Her gaze, however, doesn't leave Cyrus. "Yes, well. It's not my proper title any more. Captain Discordia, yes. The second part." She manages to hold back a sigh.
Mozart gives a little wave.
Cyrus brings himself up to his full height which, to be honest, isn't all that great. His eyes narrow and he looks as if he's about to say something his grandchildren will spend their lives regretting. Then he catches Dinah's expression and looks utterly confused. The next thing he says is made up of long vowel sounds and soft consonants. His own expression softens considerably.
Privately, to Dinah, Cyrus says in an obscure Minosian dialect, "I'm sorry to hear that. May you see the still-beating hearts of those who did this before they fall into the ocean forever."
Isabelle, seeing Cyrus and Dinah as they are, steps back a few, and nearly backs into Glanworth. She turns, the bell of her coat's hem arcing out. "Oh! Oh you're the boxer, aren't you?"
George is sitting by the door where, perhaps, he can make a fast escape.
Glanworth studies Isabelle for a moment. "I used to box for St. Thyme's, ma'am, yes."
Arabella allows her hand to fall and join its mate. After a look to the others assembled she asks, "Anyone else know what he said?"
Mozart says, "I love you and want to have your children?"
Dinah glares at Mozart.
Caine steps in looking pleased, what looks to be a normal putty knife spinning absently between his fingers.
Dinah looks like she's considering tossing the table at Cyrus, now. Her grip on in loosens somewhat, however, at the words spoken. Her voice lowers, and while she somewhat snarls, it looks like the man is safe for now. She speaks in the same language he does.
Privately, to Cyrus, Dinah speaks the same, easily. "Oh, I fully intend on seeing their hearts and watching their faces while I do a lovely little jig atop them. The damn rat bastards mutinied against me."
Arabella replies to Mozart, "Or, 'Please don't throw the table; it's expensive'." At Dinah's glare she adds, "Definitely not love and children."
Caine moves around the tables and clusters, noting faces but pausing at... one or two. None of them slow his pace to the back.
Mozart beams a disarming smile at Dinah. Not really much hope of it having the desired effect.
Cyrus looks as if he's been slapped. His eyes widen as Dinah finishes speaking and in Thari he says, "I had no idea." He looks as angry as Dinah did earlier but his wrath is not aimed at her. He bows to her as an equal and says, "Sorry to have disturbed you, Captain." He takes a step back.
Isabelle was speaking to Glanworth, corially, while keeping an eye out for Cyrus and the others. She notices Caine's arrival, certainly.
Dinah seems unaffected by Mozart's smile, daggers still in her own expression. She lets go of the table entirely, and it's not to toss it at Cyrus. Her bow is a bit stiff, but she gives it. "Recent development," she murmurs. "Very." She flashes a winning smile, that just may be a bit more dangerous than it would be coming from another woman. "Sorry I broke a teacup against your head. It was a good cup. I'll have to pay extra for it, surely."
Cyrus reaches into a pouch and removes a few coins which he places on the nearest table. "Allow me," he says. "It was careless of me to be in the way."
Caine stands in the back, vaguely watching the archways with a frown, before he's interrupted by a server. They talk in low words, and what seems to be a bag of coffee passes to the Prince.
Arabella, seeing the violence has calmed, says to her companions, "Well, that was certainly exciting. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a project to not blow up."
Mozart says, "That's....always a good thing"
Isabelle says, "I think I may go home too," she glances at the piles of packages that Cyrus had been carrying for her.
Arabella smiles at Mozart. "It was lovely to meet you. If she starts throwing things again, do be so kind as to duck."
Dinah smirks. "You always did make an excellent target, luv," she says to Cyrus. Then, to Arabella, "I'm sadly out of projectiles at the moment." A look is given to Caine, one brow arched.
Completing his simple exchange, Caine tucks the coffee under an arm and turns to move back through the tables. As Dinah raises an eyebrow at him, he gives the woman a grin that tells nothing at all, and continues on out.
Mozart chuckles. "I'm more of a blocker. If you duck, you can't see the good bits."
Cyrus exhales and says, "Well, I guess I should get that coffee." He looks to Isabelle, "Um, do you want me to have those sent to the palace? I know a guy who will do that for me."
Arabella's gaze shifts to Dinah and she remarks, dry, "With a tongue like yours, Lady, I doubt that." With a nod and smile to the others, she strikes off for the door.
Isabelle says to Glanworth, I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping me carry all those packages back to the castle, would you?" She glances at Cyrus, then Dinah, "Oh, I probably can carry them myself."
Dinah reaches out, snagging Cyrus by the arm. She juts her chin towards the retreat of Caine. "Who is that man?"
Cyrus says in a low tone, "Prince Caine. Used to be the Admiral of the South Fleet."
Glanworth looks at Isabelle, then at the packages. "Begging your pardon, but I really should be getting back to work."
Isabelle says, "Allright then, Charles Glanworth. It was nice to meet you. I'll tell my father I saw you." She then walks over to the table, piling packages in her arms, one at a time.
Dinah huhs, softly. "Looked familiar, for some reason." She shakes her head, as if dismissing the thought. Cyrus is given a somewhat gentle push away, a slight swat. "I'm on the Widow, and we've made port here." It might be a suggestion, of some sort.
Glanworth turns back to the arches, and then out.
Isabelle overhears this suggestion of Dinah's, but as she has so many packages in her arms, her expression is hidden.
Isabelle steps out, and George follows her.
Mozart leands back against the wall, feet on the opposite bench.
Cyrus sighs and drags a chair over to Dinah's table. He then picks up her fallen chair and heads back to his own. He sits but stays out of arm's reach. He says, "I might stop by." He shakes his head as if disbelieving. "The Apple's twice the ship the Widow is." Then he spits out the word "Mutiny" as if trying to get a bad taste out of his mouth.
Dinah doesn't thank Cyrus, but she also doesn't take a swing at Cyrus. It could be a good thing. She settles into the chair, almost in a huff. "Of course the Apple is. It's my damned ship. The Widow's a child's toy compared to it." She reaches for tea that's not there, then scowls. A glance is given to Mozart, out of the corner of an eye.
Mozart casts a more sincere, less manic smile Dinah's way, and toasts with his cup before sipping.
"I--" Cyrus begins and then mutters to himself. He clears his throat and says, "Look, I'm headed out Cibola way in a few days. I'll ask around about the Apple." His expression makes it clear that he'd like to more than just 'ask around'.
Dinah nods to Cyrus, though she doesn't quite lose her scowl. "You do that. But remember, in your asking, that they're mine." It's not a friendly sort of 'mine', judging by her tone. "Cibola?"
Cyrus nods in response to the question of ownership. He then shrugs and says, "I've been hired to pick up beetles of all things. Which will make it the first time I've intentionally come back from Cibola with bugs."
Dinah eyes Mozart again, briefly. "Beetles. What, there aren't enough creepy, crawly things in Amber as is?" There's a twitch of her lips, very nearly a smile.
Cyrus's smile comes quickly. There is a hint of familiarity to it. He says, "Amber's a big place. Always room for a few more."
Mozart chuckles and sips.
Now that she's not hurling things at Cyrus, Dinah has her own edge of familiarity to her. "Yes, well. Just try and keep those the only bugs you come back with. Did you ever get rid of that case of fleas?" She bats her eyelashes, sweetly.
Cyrus smirks, "Took a while, but, yes. That rash clear up?"
Dinah's voice is entirely too sweet. "The one you gave me?"
Mozart distinctly doesn't say anything.
Cyrus says, "You can't prove that." He takes a cup of coffee from a server with a nod of thanks and continues, "Besides, you were *very* drunk that week."
Dinah rolls her eyes. "Which was your fault, too." She reaches forward, taking his coffee, sipping, then sliding it back. "I've got things to do. Which way to the palace?"
Cyrus gestures vaguely north. "That way," he says. "Big palace-y looking place. Can't miss it."
Mozart says, "Top of the hill."
Dinah rises, taking up her hat as she does. "Of course," she says with a smirk. "Captain. Unnamed easedropper." The hat is placed atop her head at a jaunty angle, before fingers reach out to completely mess up Cyrus' hair.
Cyrus makes a show of being annoyed by the mussing but can't entirely suppress a smile. He throws a lazy salute in Dinah's direction.
Dinah tosses a smile over her shoulder before disappearing between the archways. Steps holding a confident swagger, whistling a seafarer's tune under her breath.
Mozart cocks his head sideways and watches her depart.
Cyrus leans back in his chair looking like a man who has talked his way out of a firing squad. He sips his coffee and after a while begins humming the same tune.
Mozart says, "She always like that?"
Cyrus replies, "Yeah." His tone is one of a man searching back through decades of memories.
Mozart says, "I'll bring popcorn next time."
Cyrus chuckles and raises his cup to Mozart. "I should've worn a hat."
Mozart says, "Commander of the Hounds might help you pick one out."
Cyrus nods, "Terrible fashion sense but I suppose it's better to have protection than to look good."
Mozart says, "Yes, well. Not all women go for fashion sense. Apparently."
Cyrus smirks, "And here's to 'em."
Mozart chuckles and raises his cup.
Cyrus finishes off his coffee and stands, placing more coins on the table. He looks to the door. "I think she's had enough of a head start. Coast ought to be clear." He nods to Mozart, "Good day to you."
Mozart says, "Good eve. And good luck."
Cyrus nods and looks as if he'll need it.
Dramatis Personae: Dinah, Cyrus, Arabella, Isabelle, Ula, Mostyn, Mozart, Glanworth, Caine
Cyrus enters the coffeehouse to discover an old flame has come to town and it goes downhill from there.
Cyrus enters just behind Isabelle. He is carrying several bags and a rather large box. He is having trouble getting everything through the door.
Dinah settles into her chair, long legs spreading out beneath the table. "Tea," she requests from the server that passes, before occupying herself with fixing the brim of her hat that rests on the chair beside her.
Isabelle walks in, beside her a rather large, over 200 pound, black dog. She has her hands in her pockets and is carrying a bag too, but she is nowhere near as encumbered as Cyrus. She says, "The coat might be too small."
Cyrus says, "How can it possibly be too small? It's in a box the size of Begma."
Arabella murmurs an order then arranges herself more comfortably. The door, the dog, the man, the woman claim her attention and she smiles then calls, "Cousin."
Isabelle says, "If you were any kind of help," as if teasing Cyrus, "You'd try it on." Taking off her mittens, she waves to Arabella, smiling.
Cyrus hears Arabella's voice but he can't see over all the packages. He bumps into an empty chair and apologizes to it.
Dinah only looks up when her tea has arrived, passing some coin to the server as her blue eyes start to wander again. They pause on Cyrus, and her lips curve into a smile like a shark might have.
Ula is seated with Mostyn and Glanworth, talking quietly. She's drinking tea, and presently holding a folded letter in her lap.
Isabelle walks over to Cyrus, offering to take some of the packages. "Here, Bella is over there, Cyrus." Her chin glances toward Arabella.
Cyrus attempts to hand some things to Isabelle.
Dinah sips at her tea, and smiles just a bit wider. Why could be anyone's guess.
Arabella's coffee has been delivered. She catches the server to order tea for two before rising. "Belle," the name is almost a laugh. "We might need an extra table for your purchases."
Isabelle takes the packages and piles them into her arms. This way Cyrus can see. She grins at Arabella though, "Yes, we had a pretty successful shopping trip."
Cyrus breathes a sigh of relief and says, "Bella. Hi." He unloads as much as he can around Arabella's table. He can't seem to find a spot for the huge coat box, though.
Isabelle reaches for the box. "I'll take that. Maybe we can order coffee," the slant of her smile is up a bit more on one side than the other, "And you can try this on." Her eyes twinkle, as if with mischief. "How are you Bella?"
Dinah tosses back her tea like it was something a bit more alcoholic. Without a word, or standing, her teacup is hurled across the room. The dainty little thing seems aimed for Cyrus' head.
Arabella takes a moment to admire the rather large box. "What the devil did you stuff in there, a tie rotator?"
Mostyn glances up from the table as the teacup goes flying through the air, with bright-eyed interest.
Isabelle is about to wave to Mostyn, when she sees the teacup. She doesn't need to step out of the way, but she does anyway, just to be helpful to Cyrus. Her big black dog watches it arc acros the room -- he wags his tail.
Cyrus says to Isabelle, "Tristan and I aren't the same size. He's much tall--ow!" He turns around, his hand going to a dagger at his hip. "Who the--?" he begins and then stops as if something far heavier than a piece of china has hit him. "D-Dinah?" he says. He then follows this up with an eloquent, "Whuh."
Ula looks up at the sound of china breaking, eyes wide and startled.
Arabella's gaze drifts to Dinah. When Cyrus does not draw, she stands down and moves closer to Belle, murmuring, "Men are always so eloquent."
Dinah is still sitting, and still smiling. "Hullo," the blonde offers. "Cyrus." It's more spitting out a name than saying it, really. "Miss me?" The little plate that the teacup is now in her hand, as if she's testing its weight.
Martin walks in.
Isabelle's eyebrows raise, and she steps closer to Bella in the same way. They could be Cyrus cheerleaders, helpfully standing back while he shames Shakespeare. "It looks like Cyrus isn't as much of a loner as he seems." She sets the big box down on a chair.
Cyrus watches the saucer. In fact, he addresses his next words to the little plate. "Um," he begins. "You're in Amber," he observes. For a man who spends his life on ships, Cyrus looks decidedly lost at sea. "How've you been?" he asks and then winces as if he has said the worst possible thing.
Martin looks around the coffee house as though he expects guys with daggers to leap out in front of him at any second. "Hi!" he says in general. "Mostyn, Addison said while I was in Dworkin's lab with Brand to come find you. So, here I am."
Arabella comments to Belle, eyes not leaving the tableux, "There is the impression of dating and it ending badly. My cousin is certainly not scoring points with these Bardic responses."
Ula places her tea cup down very carefully, then puts her hand on the edge of the table as if preparing to retreat to under the table. She pauses, looking from Mostyn to Martin with a mild blink.
Mostyn stares at Martin. Then stands, leaving his tea behind.
"You're very observant, aren't ye?," Dinah says towards Cyrus, at his comment about her being in Amber. "Oh, I'm starting to feel better than I have in decades." The plate is tossed like a frisbee at Cyrus' head.
Mostyn hurries over to Martin, and mutters, "Let's get moving before they start throwing the cutlery, I think."
Isabelle pauses to say, "Hello Martin." The table nearby is full of packages, there is a broken teacup on the floor not far from Cyrus (in fact, as if it ricocheted off the back of his head). She mentions to Bella, "He's definitely not doing well. But she looks Interesting."
George, Isabelle's dog, trots over to Martin to nose-polish his shoes in greeting.
Ula slowly tucks her letter away into her jacket, keeping a careful eye on both thrower and throwee.
Martin says, "Its ok, man. Isabelle's here. And George. Hey George." He bends down to scritch George behind the ears, "Hey Fella, hows it going?"
Cyrus almost ducks in time to avoid the saucer. It glances off the side of his head but does not break. It sails toward George.
Martin is hit with the saucer. He doesn't expect that.
Arabella cheers, "Good show, Cyrus." To Belle, "At least his reflexes are quicker than his tongue."
Cyrus stands again, quickly and scans Dinah's table for other potential projectiles.
George, however, is an expert at avoiding explosions from his years living in Begma. He tucks his ass-end under and scoots behind Martin.
Mostyn takes a step over to stand between Martin and any further ricochets. "Was there anything particular you needed me for?"
Cyrus puts up his hands. "Hey, Dinah," he says. "Can we talk about this before any innocents get hurt?"
Dinah looks much put out, as all that remains is the tiny little spoon brought over to add sugar to her tea. She even frowns, then glares at Cyrus. The spoon is given Much Consideration.
Martin nearly trips back over George. "Ouch! Crap." He curses. "I don't know. Addison said to find you."
Mozart blinks as he enters. "Did I wander into the meadhall?"
Ula gestures eloquently for a moment. "Well. It seems I'm not the only one to draw the comparison," she murmurs.
Isabelle says, "Lord Mostyn. Your Highness Martin, I'd like to introduce you to Lady Arabella." Make no mistake, Isabelle keeps an eye on Cyrus and Dinah. There is a sparkly look in her eyes. It might look cunning on someone else, but on a daughter of the House of Flora it might look radiant.
George helpfully peers around Martin's legs.
Cyrus keeps his eyes on the spoon. He takes a slow, cautious step towards the possessor of that spoon. "Been in town long?" he asks and then winces again as if he has no control over the words coming out of his mouth.
Arabella manages to dip a curtsey and keep her eyes on the former skirmishers at the same time. "A pleasure, Lord Mosty, Highness. Do mind the crockery toss. That last was a fair googly even if it did not hit on target."
Mostyn says to Martin, quietly, "You could have called..." Then turns his attention, and a polite bow, to Arabella.
Arabella does manage to give Cyrus a very depressed, 'oh no you didn't just say that' look in the back.
George tries a gentlemanly woof as if to warn Martin ahead of time of perhaps more oncoming cafe accoutrements.
Dinah makes a sound that might be amusement. "Just arrived in port. With Peril." Something about that makes her smile absolutely brilliant. Deft fingers wrap around the elegant little spoon.
Mozart purses his lips and he considers the hearth. He snags a cup as a tray passes, almost absentmindedly.
Martin gives Arabella a smile, its a rock star smile. "Ack!" he notices the oncoming onslaught and manages to get out of the way this time. "I had to come to the city anyway. No way out of the lab!" He flails a hand.
Martin looks aside at George, "Thanks, buddy."
Isabelle says, "Hello Giacomo," to Mozart, and casting a smile Mozart's way too. "Have you met Lady Arabella?"
Ula bows her head, stepping away from her table. She follows the lines of the wall to head for the door, trying to avoid placing herself in the line of fire between Cyrus and Dinah, gaze firmly fixed on the floor.
Mozart's eyes snap up from the fire, and suddenly, there's a smile. "No!"
Mostyn nods to Martin. "Right, well, I'm here, and I am sure I can go talk to Addison in a few. Just a moment." He dashes off to intercept Ula before she can make it to the exit.
Cyrus takes a couple more steps toward Dinah. "Peril," he says as if uttering a vulgarity. "You're sailing with Peril." He clears his throat, "Is he here, too?" His hand falls upon his dagger again.
George helpfully sits on Martin's foot.
Arabella delivers a winning smile, as winning as one can when faced with projectiles and a cousin doing badly. "A pleasure, Giacomo." When Cyrus's hand falls to his dagger, hers searches for something and not finding the object, smoothes the sides of her skirt to cover the gesture.
Ula is interceptable. It's a big room, she's a small woman, and she's keeping a wary eye out for poorly aimed projectiles. Granted, the green hair, short stature and being a girl suggests she wouldn't be mistaken for Cyrus, but One Never Knows. She stops as she sees Mostyn headed her way, giving him a brief look.
Martin rubs his forehead where the cup hit him, smiles at Isabelle. He glances downa t George. "I wonder if Dogs can swim in Rebma?"
Glanworth circles around the edge of the fracas, headed for the street.
"I take back what I said about you being observant. Do you see Peril here?" Dinah's head tilts slightly as she asks the question. "And yes, I'm sailing with Peril. I'm his partner. Temporarily, at least." The spoon is tossed, then, aimed for Cyrus' hand on his dagger. "I thought we were being polite," she hisses.
Isabelle walks a few steps closer to Martin saying, "George walked down the stairs with me. He does fine, but then he's smarter than most dogs. So I warned him ahead of time that it would be strange." Eye on the whole matter. Belle stores Evidence for Later Use on Cyrus.
Mozart smiles again. "Well, you don't know me well, then, milady, but thank you."
The spoon raps Cyrus's knuckles before landing underneath a table. He removes that had from his knife and then smiles, "Polite. Yes. Well, I'm glad Anders has signed you on as his partner because he certainly can't sail that piece of garbage he calls a ship on his own."
Arabella, fingers of right hand twitching for something that still is not there, clasps her hands together and turns her attention to Mozart. "A first meeting is always a pleasure," she replies. "It is the subsequent ones that so often spoil the first impression."
Martin smiles at Isabelle, this time its sincere. He looks agitated, maybe he's had too much caffein today. "Good to know. Er, how are you?"
Isabelle then spots Glanworth. Her dark brows creep up.
Isabelle replies to Martin though, "I'm fine, really. Hey, isn't that the famous Begman boxer?" As if Martin would know.
Mostyn bows slightly to Ula, and makes his way cautiously back towards Martin, with an eye towards any more projectiles in the air.
Ula turns to resume her course towards the door, head tucked downwards.
Mozart says, "Ah, yes...quite observant, milady.""
Dinah looks insulted. She moves to her feet, the motion making her chair crash to the floor. "I'll remind you that it is currently *my* ship as well." Cyrus very well may have just Horribly insulted the woman, what with her lips pulled into the snarl they now bare.
Ula leaves the coffeehouse.
Arabella mutters under her breath, "Oh dear. Now he's done it." Then she lifts her voice to call, "Cousin, why don't you introduce us to the lovely young woman? Before she hits you in the head. Again."
Martin drags mostyn by the arm and tugs him out the door. "I'll catch you later, Belle." He tells her as he reaches down to scritch George.
Mostyn is accordingly dragged along.
Isabelle says, "Goodbye, Martin," smiling from the depths of her eyes, too.
George wags his tail.
Martin and Mostyn leave the coffeehouse.
Mozart turns to the pair, cup halfway to his lips. Where it pauses upon seeing the blonde really, really pissed off.
Cyrus laughs, getting some confidence back. "Yes, Arabella. Good idea." He makes appropriate gestures about the room as he says, "Arabella Mutti, Princess Isabelle, er, a bunch of other people, allow me to introdce Captain Discordia of the Golden Apple." He fixes his gaze upon Dinah's eyes. It is steady and defiant but not without a trace of affection. "I prefer to address you by your proper title. Not whatever Peril's got you slumming on."
Arabella looked hopeful, the kind that appears when you become awfully proud of someone, but then those last sentences hit. She quietly covers her face with a hand, head shaking.
Isabelle's eyes go back to Glanworth, and there is real recognition there. She is about to speak, to greet him, when Cyrus introduces her. She walks forward then, saying, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain."
Glanworth squints at Isabelle, and halts his egress, but does not interefere with piratical introductions.
Dinah's hands grip the edge of her table and she leans across it slightly. "Lady, Highness, various others. A pleasure." Her gaze, however, doesn't leave Cyrus. "Yes, well. It's not my proper title any more. Captain Discordia, yes. The second part." She manages to hold back a sigh.
Mozart gives a little wave.
Cyrus brings himself up to his full height which, to be honest, isn't all that great. His eyes narrow and he looks as if he's about to say something his grandchildren will spend their lives regretting. Then he catches Dinah's expression and looks utterly confused. The next thing he says is made up of long vowel sounds and soft consonants. His own expression softens considerably.
Privately, to Dinah, Cyrus says in an obscure Minosian dialect, "I'm sorry to hear that. May you see the still-beating hearts of those who did this before they fall into the ocean forever."
Isabelle, seeing Cyrus and Dinah as they are, steps back a few, and nearly backs into Glanworth. She turns, the bell of her coat's hem arcing out. "Oh! Oh you're the boxer, aren't you?"
George is sitting by the door where, perhaps, he can make a fast escape.
Glanworth studies Isabelle for a moment. "I used to box for St. Thyme's, ma'am, yes."
Arabella allows her hand to fall and join its mate. After a look to the others assembled she asks, "Anyone else know what he said?"
Mozart says, "I love you and want to have your children?"
Dinah glares at Mozart.
Caine steps in looking pleased, what looks to be a normal putty knife spinning absently between his fingers.
Dinah looks like she's considering tossing the table at Cyrus, now. Her grip on in loosens somewhat, however, at the words spoken. Her voice lowers, and while she somewhat snarls, it looks like the man is safe for now. She speaks in the same language he does.
Privately, to Cyrus, Dinah speaks the same, easily. "Oh, I fully intend on seeing their hearts and watching their faces while I do a lovely little jig atop them. The damn rat bastards mutinied against me."
Arabella replies to Mozart, "Or, 'Please don't throw the table; it's expensive'." At Dinah's glare she adds, "Definitely not love and children."
Caine moves around the tables and clusters, noting faces but pausing at... one or two. None of them slow his pace to the back.
Mozart beams a disarming smile at Dinah. Not really much hope of it having the desired effect.
Cyrus looks as if he's been slapped. His eyes widen as Dinah finishes speaking and in Thari he says, "I had no idea." He looks as angry as Dinah did earlier but his wrath is not aimed at her. He bows to her as an equal and says, "Sorry to have disturbed you, Captain." He takes a step back.
Isabelle was speaking to Glanworth, corially, while keeping an eye out for Cyrus and the others. She notices Caine's arrival, certainly.
Dinah seems unaffected by Mozart's smile, daggers still in her own expression. She lets go of the table entirely, and it's not to toss it at Cyrus. Her bow is a bit stiff, but she gives it. "Recent development," she murmurs. "Very." She flashes a winning smile, that just may be a bit more dangerous than it would be coming from another woman. "Sorry I broke a teacup against your head. It was a good cup. I'll have to pay extra for it, surely."
Cyrus reaches into a pouch and removes a few coins which he places on the nearest table. "Allow me," he says. "It was careless of me to be in the way."
Caine stands in the back, vaguely watching the archways with a frown, before he's interrupted by a server. They talk in low words, and what seems to be a bag of coffee passes to the Prince.
Arabella, seeing the violence has calmed, says to her companions, "Well, that was certainly exciting. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a project to not blow up."
Mozart says, "That's....always a good thing"
Isabelle says, "I think I may go home too," she glances at the piles of packages that Cyrus had been carrying for her.
Arabella smiles at Mozart. "It was lovely to meet you. If she starts throwing things again, do be so kind as to duck."
Dinah smirks. "You always did make an excellent target, luv," she says to Cyrus. Then, to Arabella, "I'm sadly out of projectiles at the moment." A look is given to Caine, one brow arched.
Completing his simple exchange, Caine tucks the coffee under an arm and turns to move back through the tables. As Dinah raises an eyebrow at him, he gives the woman a grin that tells nothing at all, and continues on out.
Mozart chuckles. "I'm more of a blocker. If you duck, you can't see the good bits."
Cyrus exhales and says, "Well, I guess I should get that coffee." He looks to Isabelle, "Um, do you want me to have those sent to the palace? I know a guy who will do that for me."
Arabella's gaze shifts to Dinah and she remarks, dry, "With a tongue like yours, Lady, I doubt that." With a nod and smile to the others, she strikes off for the door.
Isabelle says to Glanworth, I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping me carry all those packages back to the castle, would you?" She glances at Cyrus, then Dinah, "Oh, I probably can carry them myself."
Dinah reaches out, snagging Cyrus by the arm. She juts her chin towards the retreat of Caine. "Who is that man?"
Cyrus says in a low tone, "Prince Caine. Used to be the Admiral of the South Fleet."
Glanworth looks at Isabelle, then at the packages. "Begging your pardon, but I really should be getting back to work."
Isabelle says, "Allright then, Charles Glanworth. It was nice to meet you. I'll tell my father I saw you." She then walks over to the table, piling packages in her arms, one at a time.
Dinah huhs, softly. "Looked familiar, for some reason." She shakes her head, as if dismissing the thought. Cyrus is given a somewhat gentle push away, a slight swat. "I'm on the Widow, and we've made port here." It might be a suggestion, of some sort.
Glanworth turns back to the arches, and then out.
Isabelle overhears this suggestion of Dinah's, but as she has so many packages in her arms, her expression is hidden.
Isabelle steps out, and George follows her.
Mozart leands back against the wall, feet on the opposite bench.
Cyrus sighs and drags a chair over to Dinah's table. He then picks up her fallen chair and heads back to his own. He sits but stays out of arm's reach. He says, "I might stop by." He shakes his head as if disbelieving. "The Apple's twice the ship the Widow is." Then he spits out the word "Mutiny" as if trying to get a bad taste out of his mouth.
Dinah doesn't thank Cyrus, but she also doesn't take a swing at Cyrus. It could be a good thing. She settles into the chair, almost in a huff. "Of course the Apple is. It's my damned ship. The Widow's a child's toy compared to it." She reaches for tea that's not there, then scowls. A glance is given to Mozart, out of the corner of an eye.
Mozart casts a more sincere, less manic smile Dinah's way, and toasts with his cup before sipping.
"I--" Cyrus begins and then mutters to himself. He clears his throat and says, "Look, I'm headed out Cibola way in a few days. I'll ask around about the Apple." His expression makes it clear that he'd like to more than just 'ask around'.
Dinah nods to Cyrus, though she doesn't quite lose her scowl. "You do that. But remember, in your asking, that they're mine." It's not a friendly sort of 'mine', judging by her tone. "Cibola?"
Cyrus nods in response to the question of ownership. He then shrugs and says, "I've been hired to pick up beetles of all things. Which will make it the first time I've intentionally come back from Cibola with bugs."
Dinah eyes Mozart again, briefly. "Beetles. What, there aren't enough creepy, crawly things in Amber as is?" There's a twitch of her lips, very nearly a smile.
Cyrus's smile comes quickly. There is a hint of familiarity to it. He says, "Amber's a big place. Always room for a few more."
Mozart chuckles and sips.
Now that she's not hurling things at Cyrus, Dinah has her own edge of familiarity to her. "Yes, well. Just try and keep those the only bugs you come back with. Did you ever get rid of that case of fleas?" She bats her eyelashes, sweetly.
Cyrus smirks, "Took a while, but, yes. That rash clear up?"
Dinah's voice is entirely too sweet. "The one you gave me?"
Mozart distinctly doesn't say anything.
Cyrus says, "You can't prove that." He takes a cup of coffee from a server with a nod of thanks and continues, "Besides, you were *very* drunk that week."
Dinah rolls her eyes. "Which was your fault, too." She reaches forward, taking his coffee, sipping, then sliding it back. "I've got things to do. Which way to the palace?"
Cyrus gestures vaguely north. "That way," he says. "Big palace-y looking place. Can't miss it."
Mozart says, "Top of the hill."
Dinah rises, taking up her hat as she does. "Of course," she says with a smirk. "Captain. Unnamed easedropper." The hat is placed atop her head at a jaunty angle, before fingers reach out to completely mess up Cyrus' hair.
Cyrus makes a show of being annoyed by the mussing but can't entirely suppress a smile. He throws a lazy salute in Dinah's direction.
Dinah tosses a smile over her shoulder before disappearing between the archways. Steps holding a confident swagger, whistling a seafarer's tune under her breath.
Mozart cocks his head sideways and watches her depart.
Cyrus leans back in his chair looking like a man who has talked his way out of a firing squad. He sips his coffee and after a while begins humming the same tune.
Mozart says, "She always like that?"
Cyrus replies, "Yeah." His tone is one of a man searching back through decades of memories.
Mozart says, "I'll bring popcorn next time."
Cyrus chuckles and raises his cup to Mozart. "I should've worn a hat."
Mozart says, "Commander of the Hounds might help you pick one out."
Cyrus nods, "Terrible fashion sense but I suppose it's better to have protection than to look good."
Mozart says, "Yes, well. Not all women go for fashion sense. Apparently."
Cyrus smirks, "And here's to 'em."
Mozart chuckles and raises his cup.
Cyrus finishes off his coffee and stands, placing more coins on the table. He looks to the door. "I think she's had enough of a head start. Coast ought to be clear." He nods to Mozart, "Good day to you."
Mozart says, "Good eve. And good luck."
Cyrus nods and looks as if he'll need it.