#earthrunes

"Oh, I doubt they'd truly want to cause me pain!" she says with all the confidence of a noble who is certain she's loved by all.

"One never knows whose visiting New Orleans this time of year," He warns letting the balls fall one by one into his hands and putting them away, and then he walks to her, "Some are kind indiscriminately, firing nice things at complete strangers. BLam! A smile! bang! A well wish! Pow! Charity! Yes?"

"I...hm." She pauses, frowning slightly.

"Yin, and Yang" He says curling his stripped tail into a pretty close approximation "We all get desserts, and not all are just. Some people just enjoy spitting in others oatmeal."

"Ew." She wrinkles her nose at that image, then sighs. "Fine. So...if they hurt me, don't let them see it. Which means, don't lose my temper, either." A deep breath. "You may have to remind me if I start to lose it."

"Carnivale has guidelines about going vigilante." He says, then looks her over, "I think I have an idea how to help you though." He moves to fetch Stevie, talking to her.// The satyress looks confused, then "Oh sure. I can do that."// Shalimar moves to her, and demonstrates "Do as I say not as I do." And Stevie strikes up, and...

our Fiona Beholds the glory of the Chicken Dance as the jester demonstrates

She's wide-eyed. "That's...ridiculous!" As yet, she hasn't started moving.

Stevie translates, "he wants you to do it too, Ah figure."

"Yes. I got that." But she's clearly reluctant. There's nothing at all appealing about this dance...but she starts trying to copy his moves.

"Dignity is for wimps," He assures her. "Or certainly not for fools. When I was a child, I acted as a child, spoke as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things- including the fear of being seen as childish" A wink Clap clap clap clap "We are fools! We step off the cliff and don't fall because we don't look down! Turn your pride sideways"

A frown. "I'm not afraid of being seen as childish!" Clap clap clap clap, and a sigh, and she tries it again with a bit more gusto.

"You're just jealous because my tail feathers are firmer than yours." shake then clap clap clap clap.

She rolls her eyes, and when it comes around again, she gives her tail feathers a good shake. "So this is what it's going to be like?"

"Yes, just you me and Stevie." He says with a grin.

Stevie adds helpfully, "He's saying there will be a lot more folk."

She gamely keeps up. "Well, I'd been hoping to wear a sexy outfit, but I'm beginning to guess that's off the table."

"Are you saying MY outfits aren't sexy?" he hurumps, then says "I think you can still show your assets at market even if they re garishly covered, but poke a bit of fun at ones self aye? Perhaps if you want to be sexy, stuff the matress until your cups runneth over." He sees if she's getting the dance right and is more relaxed.

A slight laugh. "August will either love that or be mortified."

The pooka smiles, and shows her some more silly dances and funny walks.

(Pause or end scene)

********************************
THEN:

August lays his hand, palm to palm, in the pooka's. "I will try."

Vince gives August's hand a squeeze. "Baby steps, my friend. Little bitty patty paws."

"I -can- call you friend, prrrrrt?"

"Yes." Gravely.

He grips August's hand, then pulls him in, half across the bar, to wrap his arms around the Sidhe in a bear hug, his entire frame rumbling with a massive growl - no, a purr, decibels lower than any housecat. A companionable thump on the back, and the sidhe is released back to his seat.

"Well and good! You see, I hadn't any doubt in the world."

NOW:

August coughs as he's thumped and rocks back onto his stool. "Right."

"So, can I make you a little something else to drink? Perhaps not a roaring orgasm, but... I think, maybe, something you might like."

"I, ah, I generally don't drink." A pause. "I had a glass of wine a few weeks ago."

He rubs his chin. "How do you feel about sweets, versus salty? Do you reach for chocolate, or shrimp chips?" Turning, his tail swishing behind him, he looks at one bottle a shake of his head, and checks another. "Savory, or bitter? Umami, or sour?" A chuckle. "Red wine, or white, and what did you think?"

"Red. It was... it was more tart than I'm used to."

"I like both sweet and salty."

"A sip once a week isn't the best comparison, hmm?" A chuckle, and he glances over another bottle, before pulling it down, and setting a couple bottles in front of August. "Here..." He opens each, and slides them towards the sidhe. "Take a whiff."

"Ah...." He tentatively sniffs at each bottle in turn.

The first, amber and rich, is a whiskey, spicy and complex. Next is a bottle of vermouth - sweet, a touch medicinal. He takes them back and narrates. "Two parts whiskey to one part vermouth, a couple shakes of bitters..." He combines them into a shaker with a couple cubes of ice, and gives them a good shake with a surprisingly loud rattle.

"Strain into a glass - chilled by the ice, but without any IN the drink to prevent it watering down..." He pours into two glasses, and then takes a twist of orange peel and rubs it along the rim of the glass. "The oils from the peel add a sweet aroma... and top it off with a cherry for good luck." A marasca cherry dropped into each glass.

He slides one glass to August, and the other to the barstool next to him. A brow raised and a bit of a smile.

The soft tread of slippered feet and a swish of skirts may come to Vince's ears a few seconds before Coradel comes into the tavern.

"This is one of my own perrrrrrsonal creations." He sweeps his arm to one side in a bow to the Baroness as she enters. " Lady, care to join us in enjoying a Mane-hatten?"

"I, ah, don't... what?" He looks around, startled.

She pauses, taking in the sight of the two of them, and smiles. "Well...don't mind if I do."

She moves to take the stool next to August, appraising the drink before her.

August looks as it he's been caught touching himself, actually. He's blushing.

A smile to August with a bit of a puzzled look. "What's wrong?"

"N... nothing." He clears his throat and takes a sip, but it's not the water he remembers having and he chokes, coughing.

She doesn't laugh at his surprised look before he starts coughing, and sets a hand on his shoulder. "What have you done to him, Whiskers?"

"Oh, this and that." He gestures vaguely, and pushes the water glass over to August. "Come now, what an insult, to spit up my signature drink. Take a sip, and then try it, refresh your palate, mmm?"

"I'm sure that was his intent." She takes a sip of her own glass. "Mm. That's lovely."

The manha-, er, Mane-hatten is concocted perhaps a bit sweeter, weaker than usual, with a top-shelf whiskey that will be smoother than the bite of common rye. The cherry added is a true maraschino in marasca liquer - none of those neon red sundae toppers there.

"I was about to ask Sir Oakleaf, here, about how Carnival is celebrated at your hold."

"Sorry." Hoarse. "That's pretty strong."

He drinks a little water.

Coradel doesn't seem to be having any trouble with her drink.

He pours himself a few fingers of the whiskey, neat, and takes a little sip. "It packs a punch, but it's a sippin' cordial, one that takes a little accustoming to. Shall I set up a weekly lesson?"

"I'm still trying to figure out how Carnivale is celebrated here, myself. I, ah, took some fool lessons earlier, from Shalimar."

He clears his throat, shakes his head. "I, ah, no, thank you Vince. Lessons, that is." He turns to Coradel with concern. "Are you ok?" Pursuant to her fool-lessons.