Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,
Sythyry
sythyry

Dusty [2 Hivvem 4261]

At Across Saga, with Dustweed, sharing turnip pastries and spiced wine, and having trouble Orrenogling because we were somewhat behind a bookshelf. I could hear fairly adequately though. We got talked about a lot.

The Nice Conversations

Nobody actually said this, and sometimes one or the other was a Cani and once even a Gormoror, but I heard half a dozen conversations that went more or less like this:

A Rassimel I usually like:"Who's that with Sythyry?"

The Orren she is probably sleeping with:"Both-female. Baron of something. I forget her name."

Rassimel:"Thought so."

Orren:"Why would Heartshell let someone like that in here?"

Rassimel:"Licking noble undertails, I guess."

Orren:"Well, it's stupid of her. Suppose we get raided tonight? Guards'll triple the blackmail."

Rassimel:"Yeah, while she gets away for free 'cuz, like, what guard's gonna shake down a baron?"

Orren:"Besides, what's she doing here anyways?"

Rassimel:"Well, no Herethroy would have her."

(It is one of Dustweed's little perversion that zie prefers to be considered a co-lover -- a perversion of which my fellow perverts were unaware, or, perhaps, deliberately ignoring.)

Orren:"She might be able to get a Khtsoyis if she's lucky."

Rassimel:"Or a wherriwheffle. They'll do anybody."

Orren:"Yeah. She should go to a monster-lover bar."

Rassimel:"Is there a monster-lover bar?"

Orren:"Damned if I know. Not in the city."

Rassimel:"Well, I hope she goes there soon then."

Orren:"Me too."

The Less Nice Conversations

When one of the conversants was a Herethroy, the conversation wasn't nearly so kind. I won't transcribe those ... I won't even reconstruct them. The suggestions about how to deal with the situation from Herethroy include:

  1. Have Dustweed and me forcefully evicted from the establishment.
  2. Let us stay if we pay for everything for everybody.
  3. Have Dustweed's abdominal chitin broken with a chair.
  4. Slip the blood of owl-dragons into Dustweed's beverage. (I believe that Herethroy are made particularly ill by this blood.)
  5. Take the mighty mystical weapons which I surely have (and don't! Not even a seven-winged burny thing!) and turn them fearsomely upon Dustweed.
  6. Have the chef urinate upon Dustweed's salad. Describe it as "House Special Salad Dressing"
  7. Dump a beer on Dustweed's head.
  8. Encourage Dustweed to finish eating and depart with some efficiency, but without threats or actual rancor.

The Judgment

Me:"Heavens, Dustweed. I'm very sorry ... I didn't think that a bunch of traffs would be like that."

Dustweed:"Oh, it wasn't too bad."

Me:apologize grovel grovel apologize

Dustweed:"Really -- most places are much worse. Nobody actually did anything, at least."

Zie meant it, too.

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