Story S10 • All • Crooked Wing
It turns out, the Crooked Wing is located in the eastern part of the city. It's not too far from the inn where Felicia worked, something that Alín in particular doesn't fail to notice. Still, the Wing isn't bad, as far as Antiva City taverns go. There's a decent crowd for a weeknight, and the ale is palatable enough.
When somebody leaves a message for the assassin (or 'Bird', as he'd told you to call him), the barkeep nods and glances at the note. "Try tomorrow, probably," she says, then slips the note into her apron. After that, there's not much left to do but drink. Luckily, there's a table emptying out in the back, and it happens to be large enough to fit everybody.
Sorin sits down quickly, towards the back of the table. Clearly, trying to arrange a covert meeting with a known assassin isn't agreeing with his nerves.
"Well. That was anticlimactic," he sighs, though he hasn't stopped scanning the room for their new 'friend' since the group arrived.
"Well, he did say he was only here sometimes," Jarryn points out, sinking down in a chair closer to the bar. "I guess we'll just have to try again tomorrow. As long as we don't get ourselves thrown out of here tonight." He tries to smirk over at Zayd, only to remember he'd run off on them before they'd gotten inside.
"Maybe it's better he's not here just yet," Alín says, sitting down next to Sorin. "We're kind of...conspicuous."
"What makes you say that?" Inigo asks. He sits down between Alín and Jarryn.
"I mean. Look at us," Meraad says. She sits on Sorin's other side. "A big group of brand new people coming into a tavern like this? We're clearly up to something."
"Wouldn't it be more conspicuous if we all just... left?" Sorin mutters, though it sounds like he's legitimately wondering if they ought to leave.
"I think it would, yeah," Jarryn chuckles. "Let's just stay and have a few rounds of drinks. Maybe he'll show up. An' if not, we just look like we came out to have a good time. Right?"
"Right," Inigo agrees. "Maybe we just all got kicked out of our regular tavern, and are looking for a new place to call home."
Meraad rolls her eyes. "Right," she says, and stands up. "I'll go order a round then. What does everybody want?" She holds her hand out to Inigo.
Inigo shrugs and pulls some coins out of the pouch at his side. "Ale," he replies, dropping the coins into Meraad's hand.
Alín hesitates and looks around the table. "I...ah. Don't drink very often," they admit. "So. Whatever?"
Jarryn flashes Alín a small smile. "I don't either. Maybe try a mead," he suggests, looking back at Meraad. "One of those for me, please."
"A mead for me too, please," Sorin chimes in, with a hesitant hand in the air.
"Oh, all right," Alín says, relaxing a little. "A mead then."
Meraad nods. "I'll get Zayd an ale to start. Be right back." She heads over to the bar.
"This is nice," Inigo says. "It's been a while since I've been out drinking. And with friends!" He looks to be in a better mood than he has been for the past two days.
Zayd appears at the door then, Aban's sleeve held in his hand as the qunari is gently tugged along behind him. He scans the room, beaming when he sees the others in the back. "Hi! I forgot that I'd invited Aban to come out with us sometime, and thought that it'd be good tonight since we're all here," he says as he approaches the table. He briefly introduces Inigo, Meraad, and Alín to Aban, and throws his arms out in presentation at him. "--and this is Aban! He's cool, and he's helped us a lot."
Aban lets himself be tugged along to the table, then stands in front of it feeling a little awkward. "Ah, hello," he says. "This is...uh. Happening." He chuckles. "Nice to see some of you again. And meet others." He gives an awkward wave.
"I remember you. I think," Alín says, peering him. "Hello again."
"Hi," Inigo says, staring up at him. "I'm...wait. He already said. But uh. Inigo. Yes." He smiles as Aban sits down across the table from him.
Meraad returns from putting their order in at the bar and finds the newcomers. She quickly gets Aban's order from him, then returns to add it on. Satisfied, she comes back to sit down next to him.
Soon after, the first round of drinks arrives.
Jarryn greets Aban with a nod and a smile. Taking a small sip of his mead, he looks over at Zayd. "We were just talkin' about how we probably shouldn't get ourselves thrown out of here until after we've met up with you-know-who again. Jus'... so you know."
Zayd drags a hand along Inigo's shoulders and gives him a pat, then shoves a finger in Jarryn's ear as he passes on his way to his chair. "What? Sounds like something that only those that were engaged in that particular conversation should be held to." He takes a seat, eagerly grabbing at his drink. "But fine, I get it."
"Get kicked out of a lot of bars, huh?" Aban asks. He pulls his straw out of one of his pockets and quickly sets himself up. "I'm not surprised," he chuckles, then guides the straw through to take a sip.
Alín watches him curiously, but doesn't ask.
"It's a pastime," Inigo replies. "Do you...always leave your scarf on?" he asks.
"Mmhmm," Aban replies. "Don't want to catch a cold."
"Oh," Inigo says. "That...makes sense."
"No, it doesn't," Aban laughs. "I just have some scars from when I was a child. Prefer to keep it covered."
"Braska, I'm sorry," Inigo immediately apologizes, but Aban simply waves him off with another kind chuckle.
Jarryn let out a little yelp and swatted at Zayd when his ear was violated. Taking a bigger drink, he gives Inigo's shoulder a firm pat. "Don't feel too bad. Aban's one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. Or so I've been told, by Zayd. About a hundred times."
Sorin snorts a laugh into his mead, recovering as quickly as possible. "Sorry, sorry," he sputters. "Helloo, Aban. Nice to see you again." He offers a small wave.
"Oh, has he?" Aban asks with a laugh. He reaches over to put a hand on top of Zayd's head. "A hundred times already? I'm flattered." He ruffles Zayd's hair, just a little, then pulls his hand back. "Hello," he says to Sorin, and tips his head.
Zayd grins as he leans into the touch. After chugging nearly half of his drink in one go, he heaves a deep breath and slams his mug onto the table. "So," he announces, placing his elbows on the table. "Who's dancing with me? I'm dancing, at some point tonight."
Alín looks down at their drink, then back up at Zayd. Mm. It was going to take more than that.
Inigo chuckles. "I mean...I guess I could try. Maybe I've improved since last time."
“Noo, no dancing for me.” Sorin shakes his head, vehemently, looking around the crowded tavern. He redoubles his focus on the mead.
"Aww, c'mon. Why not?" Jarryn asks with a grin. "Let Zayd have a go at you. It'll be fun! To watch, at least."
Sorin’s mead sputters everywhere, again, though not out of laughter.
Alín has to put their mug down too. They at least manage to swallow before they laugh. They reach over and gently pat Sorin's back.
Meraad snorts into her drink.
"Oh, I'd like to watch that too," Inigo says. He chuckles and elbows Jarryn.
Jarryn tosses his head back and laughs, giving Nico a pat on the knee. "I was just talkin' about dancing, Sorin. Honest."
Zayd laughs gleefully and wiggles his eyebrows at Sorin. "You know what they say, Sorin. It takes two to tango! But three or four becomes quite the tangle," he says as he giggles harder at himself.
Eyes watering, Sorin turns to Zayd, with a grimace. "Does anyone say that? I don't- no, never mind. Talk to me after another mead," he grumbles.
"You know that from experience, huh?" Meraad asks. "Wait. Why am I even asking?" She snorts.
Aban shakes his head and takes another sip with his straw.
The conversation somehow moves on from 'dancing' as they finish their first round of drinks. Meraad raises a hand to flag down one of the barmaids, but the girl looks so frazzled that Meraad gets up to help retrieve the drinks herself.
"Huh. She's kind of cute," Meraad says, once the drinks are distributed and the barmaid is out of hearing range.
Jarryn leans back to get a better look at the barmaid as she retreats, then flashes Meraad a grin. "Yeah she is. You want me to talk to her for you?"
Meraad narrows her eyes. "What? You? No. No way." She points at him. "You're already have tossed after a drink and a half. You'll blush all over her. And...I mean. No. I'm not discussing this."
"Meraaaad. Be nice. Jarryn just wants to help you make a new...friend," Inigo says, grinning at her.
She makes a rude gesture at him.
"I am not," Jarryn huffs, taking another drink to prove his point. "An' I am just tryin' to help. I know she's not as old as you usually like 'em but it's worth a shot, yeah?"
"Ooooh, you like them older, too?" Zayd asks with an eyebrow waggle. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen? Live a little, Meraad! I can help, too." He continues giggling into his drink.
“Shhh,” Meraad says, pointing a finger at Jarryn. “Shhhh.” She points at Zayd. “Why do you think I need your help?” she hisses.
“Is this...is this the same drink?” Alín asks, oblivious. “This is kind of...stronger??” They stare down into their drink.
“It’s the same,” Meraad says to them, then turns back to continue her glaring.
Aban takes a long sip and watches. He doesn’t get entertainment like this back at the Queen very often.
"Mhm, it's the same, for sure," Sorin astutely observes. "I like it. S'good mead. What d'you think?" He asks Alin.
"Mmm. If it's not stronger, then maybe...I've grown weaker," Alín hums, then squints down at their drink in meditation. "Taste's good though," they say to Sorin, then throw some more back with a shrug.
"Oh, um, that's..." Sorin frowns. "That's... called getting drunk, lethallin..."
"Huh. No, that's not right. It takes more wine than this," they grumble.
Jarryn squints over at the two of them. "What's that word mean? "Leth... Alín???"
"Huh?" Alín looks over in response to their name. Wait, no. That wasn't their name. "Oh. Lethallin? It's like...uh. Is there a comparison? We say it to people we're familiar with. Like...ummm." They furrow their brow in concentration. "Friend?"
Sorin nods, expression vacant.
Jarryn blinks. "Oh. Huh. All right." He looks back to Meraad. "You sure you don't want me to hit on her for you?"
"Positive," Meraad replies, taking a drink. "You either," she says to Zayd. "I...suppose I appreciate it, but I can do it myself. Not that that's what I need to do." She narrows her eyes.
"You do though," Inigo points out. "To have some fun, I mean."
Meraad glares at him, then sighs. "If I go talk to her, will you lot leave me alone?"
"Probably not," Zayd tells her after putting his empty mug down on the table. "But you won't regret it!" He points at her for emphasis, then turns slightly in his chair to lean his head back against Aban's shoulder.
Sorin shakes his head, stage whispering to Meraad, beside him. "Don't let them bully you. There's no point in... going after her, if your heart isn't in it." He suppresses a hiccup.
"Shh! Shh...." Jarryn leans across the table to shush Sorin, fingertips barely grazing his lips. "Go on, Meraad. We'll be nice an' barely watch. I promise." He looks at her expectantly, hand still on Sorin, for a solid minute before leaning back.
"Mm, sure," she says to Zayd, then stands up with a sigh. "That's very nice of you, Sorin."
Alín bats at Jarryn's hand and nearly smacks Sorin in the nose.
"She's not thinking about her heart right now," Inigo points out.
"Oh, you'd better watch yourself, Master Costa," she says, baring her teeth. She shoots Jarryn a glare for good measure, then leaves the table behind.
"So, you guys do this often?" Aban asks. He laughs and puts an arm around Zayd's shoulder.
"Actually, no! Not together. But hopefully we will more often, this is too entertaining," Zayd answers with a grin.
Jarryn pulls his arm back, pouting at Alín. He glances over at Zayd and Aban, wrinkles his nose, and finishes off his drink. "Yeah."
Without stopping to breathe, Sorin finishes his second mead, and lays his face on the table.
"Oh no, he's gone facedown," Zayd says with a slightly furrowed brow, making no move whatsoever.
"Well, I agree. Thanks for dragging me out into the night," Aban says with a laugh. "It's worth the shit they're going to give me tomorrow night."
Alín finishes their drink and blinks at Sorin. "Oh, dear. Sorin?" They poke at the tip of one of his ears. "Are you all right??" They lean forward and gently lift his head up.
"What did Zayd do, that somebody will give you a hard time for?" Inigo asked curiously.
"Oh. Came into the tavern and pulled me outside. I'm sure everybody there thinks we're off on some tryst." Aban snorts and gently jostles Zayd.
Jarryn casts another look at Zayd and Aban, then quickly stands up. "Well, since Meraad took our barmaid. Anyone else want another?"
“M’fine,” Sorin mumbles. “Just leave me to die, in peace.”
"I'll have another, Jarryn," Inigo says with a grin.
"All right," they say. They gently set his head back down, though they turn it to the side so he can breathe. "Mmm..." They pat his cheek, then look to Jarryn. "I want another one!"
"I'm fine," Aban says. "Thank you."
"I could use another one," Zayd calls out, nestling into Aban's arm. "Sorin... we've really got to work on this. I'd like to work you up to like, at least 3 drinks before you're passed out."
Jarryn just nods and makes his way to the bar. Noticing Meraad and the giggling barmaid, he hangs back for a second to catch her eye and smirk before going to order their drinks. He waits for them himself, then juggles them back to the table. He passes them out before settling down and sipping his own, a whiskey this time.
“M’not passed out,” Sorin hisses. “Drank three last time...”
"Mmm. 'Pologies." Zayd says, bringing a leg up and setting it on Jarryn's lap. "It looks like someone might get lucky tonight," he says with smirk as he catches sight of Meraad with the barmaid.
"Thank you," Inigo says, grinning at Jarryn. He raises an eyebrow at his drink. "Whiskey? Oh, my. Going harder now?" He reaches over and pats Jarryn's bicep.
Alín thanks Jarryn and grab their drink. They take a sip and chuckle to themself. "He is awake," Alín agrees. "You're done then? No more?" They gesture at their own drink and look thoughtful. "Huh."
Aban looks over curiously. "Huh. I think you're right," he says, eyeing Meraad with a smile. "Good for her. I guess spite can also be a good romantic motivator, huh?"
Jarryn barely acknowledges the leg on his lap as he takes a sip of his whiskey. "Mm. Yeah. I haven't drunk in a while, so might as well, yeah?" he smiles at Inigo, flexes his bicep for him, then looks to the elves. "You want some water, Sorin?"
Slowly, Sorin sits upright, in this chair. He nods, looking down at his empty mug, on the table. “Yes, please.”
Jarryn's expression softens and he lets out a quiet laugh. "Good choice. Off, please." He sets his whiskey down and gives Zayd's leg a pat before gently nudging it off of his lap. He wobbles a bit as he gets to his feet, but manages to steady himself before heading back to the bar.
"Nico... are you ready to get wild?" Zayd asks, gesturing towards the corner with the music.
Inigo pouts when Jarryn takes his biceps away. He then takes a long drink and wobbles to his feet. "Yes," he says to Zayd. "Yes, I am."
Aban chuckles and pulls his arm away so Zayd can stand.
"Do you want a drink while you wait for the water?" Alín asks, offering their mead to Sorin. "Wait. No. That's not right...is it?"
"Hey," Meraad says to Jarryn as he waits at the bar. "Uh...can...you guys get Nico home okay?" she asks, then glances over her shoulder. "I mean. If I...need to leave for. A while. You can take care of him?"
Jarryn grins brightly at Meraad for a good while before realizing he hasn't actually replied. "Oh! Uh, yeah. I'll get him home safe. You've got my word." He holds up his hand in some sort of vague salute. "You... have fun."
"Good," she says. "Good. Ah..." Meraad leans in and claps him firmly on the shoulder. "Thanks Jarryn." She then leans in a little closer. "Told you I didn't need your help." She grins and releases him. She then turns to join the blushing barmaid, giving Jarryn one last salute before she goes.
Jarryn just laughs and watches her go. He waits at the bar for Sorin's water, then heads back to the table with it, passing Zayd and Inigo on their way to the "dancefloor."
As he passes Jarryn, Zayd catches him by the hip with one hand and pulls him back. He speaks quietly to him for a moment, holding up a finger to Inigo in a 'one moment' gesture before pulling back.
Inigo blinks in surprise. Oh. He waits for Zayd and does his best not to pry.
Jarryn gives Zayd a small smile and shakes his head, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the Qunari's lips. He then makes a shoo-ing motion with his free hand, flashes Inigo a smile, and makes his way back to the table. "They wouldn't just give me water, but this has just got some honey and spices in it. No alcohol. And it's cool." He places a hand on Sorin's shoulder as he sets the mug down in front of him. "I tried a sip. It's good."
Sorin gives the mug a judicious sniff, taking a generous sip once he decides it passes muster. "Mm. This is rather nice. Thank you."
Inigo blinks once. Twice. He looks to Jarryn, then Zayd, then back again. He manages a "whaa–" before he's dragged off to dance.
Aban raises and eyebrow and chooses not to comment. Instead, he leans over and inspects Sorin's drink. "I've had those before. They're not too bad," he assures Sorin.
Alín squints at Jarryn. Face flushed, they tilt their head in curiosity. "Wait. So...you and. And Zayd are...?" They make a circle with two fingers, then stick another finger through it. "Really?" Their finger moves in and out a few times. "Huh..."
Without pausing to stop drinking, Sorin reaches out with his free hand, firmly pressing Alin's offending fingers to the table.
Jarryn sinks down into Meraad's abandoned seat and glances out at where Zayd and Inigo are dancing. Looking back at Alín, he seems confused as he watches their fingers for a moment, then blinks. "Oh. We... no. I mean, we have." He wrinkles his nose. "But as a general rule, no. I try, anyway. We're jus' friends." He stretches across the table, grabbing for his abandoned whiskey. It takes him a few tries, but he manages to snag it and not spill too much. "Close friends."
"Heeeeeey," Alín's voice fades to a sigh at the end of it. They flex their fingers but allow Sorin to win. They huff and look over to Jarryn. "Oooh. Okay okay. I see. So you just. You sleep with some of your friends. Sometimes. Closely." They nod once. Twice. "I've done that," they say with a sage nod.
Aban can barely hold back a snort as he's taking a sip. The straw nearly goes up his nose.
Sorin gives Alin's hand a gentle pat, before releasing them. Having drained most of the water already, he wipes his mouth with a careful thumb. He clears his throat. "So. Are things usually this... lively when you go out, Aban?"
Once freed, Alín shrugs and grabs their mug of mead again.
"Me? Oh, not usually," he replies with a laugh. "I mean. There's a lot more quiet drinking going on at the Queen. Sometimes there's an argument. Maybe a fight or two. They don't usually have music during the week." He nods to the corner where Zayd and Inigo are dancing. "Regardless, I don't usually get involved in any of that - I prefer a little peace."
"Hah! Well. In that case, sorry you got roped into this," Sorin laughs.
Jarrny props his elbow up on the table and his face on his hand, slowly sipping at his whiskey. He watches Inigo and Zayd for a bit, then suddenly looks back at Alín. "Wait. Are you sayin' you've slept with Zayd? Or just... other friends?"
Alín looks up from their mug when Jarryn addresses them. They pause and tilt their head. "Huh? Me? Me? Zayd?" They tremble a bit as they start to laugh, spots of color high on their cheeks. "N-no," they say. Their laugh turns into a giggle. "No no no. Just...just other friends. Who aren't here. Ahaha. I've never...I've only...I've only slept with other elves." They wheeze a little.
"You all right?" Jarryn sets down his whiskey and leans back, reaching around Sorin to pat Alín on the shoulder. "Huh. Really? I mean. I guess that makes sense." Pulling his hand back, he gives Sorin a little pat on the back for good measure before picking up his whiskey again. "Well don't tell him I said it, but you probably shouldn't let Zayd be your first Qunari. Unless you like it..." He shook his head and let out a low whistle, staring off into space for a few solid beats. Finally, after another sip of whiskey, "... intense."
"M'fine," Alín says, wrinkling their nose. They take another drink and decide to try draining it. Unfortunately, Jarryn continues to speak. They nearly choke as they slam the mug down.
"Should I pass this information on to Taal then?" Aban asks with a chuckle.
Once Alín can breathe, they're giggling again. "I'm not...I don't. I don't have any plans on that. I mean. Not that he...he isn't. It's nothing wrong with him." They snort. "It's just that I don't want to sleep with Zayd."
Jarryn's eyes narrow as he looks over at Aban. Instead of replying, he just holds eye contact as he downs the rest of his whiskey and slams the cup down onto the table. Then, a little bleary-eyed, he looks back at Alín. "Wh'dyou mean by th't?" he asks with a little cough.
Meanwhile, on the dancefloor, Inigo takes his chance and spins Zayd around. He continues the motion and catches Zayd off balance. Inigo catches him and lowers him down into a perfect dip. He leans in close, both of them breathing hard. "There," he says, as Zayd is gracefully suspended in his grasp."This is for that horse ride," he says, and kisses Zayd's cheek before hauling him back up to his feet. Aban merely flicks his eyebrows up at Jarryn. It definitely conveys the fact that he's smirking.
"Huh?" Alín has finished their mead. Unfortunately. "What?" They're squinting at him again. "What do I mean by that what?"
Sorin leans over to whisper, quickly, "It seems Jarryn's confused as to what you mean when you say you don't want to sleep with Zayd."
Zayd giggles profusely as he and Inigo step away from the musicians, making a quick detour to grab another ale. As they approach the table, Zayd practically shouts, "Did you all see that?! I haven't danced like that since getting to this fucking city!"
"Yes. That! Thank you," Jarryn nods, putting his hand on Sorin's shoulder and giving it a little shake. He leaves it there as he looks at Zayd and blinks. "Huh?"
Grinning, Inigo pays for the ale and follows Zayd back to the table. He looks around for his own leftover drink and tries to figure out where he should sit.
Alín tilts their head to listen to Sorin, their curls brushing up against him. "Oh. Ooooh. Ma serannas," they 'whisper' back to Sorin at a normal volume. Their face is still screwed up in confusion. "I said what I meant though. I don't want to sleep with Zayd!" They whip their head around to find Zayd standing at the table again. "Ssssorry," they say, and smile at him blearily.
Zayd's jaw drops slightly as he snaps his head to gawk at Alín, but he quickly recovers as an insufferable grin begins to break out on his face. He puts both hands onto the table next to Alín and leans in, looking to catch their eye. "Oh, reeeally? What brought this on?" His grin suddenly turns to a pout. "And why not?"
Inigo finds his abandoned drink and takes his seat again. He looks around the table, confused. His eyes lock onto Jarryn and widen when they see how flushed the other man's face is. He notices the whiskey too. Whoa.
"It's a long story," Alín says, looking up at him. "I think. It...ummm." They look lost for a moment. "Oh!! I said I didn't know that you and Jarryn are having sex and did this." They repeat the finger gesture. "Sorin didn't like it so I stopped and then Jarryn said 'no we're just friends!'" Alín does their best to deepen their voice and impersonate Jarryn's accent.
"Then I said that I do that too and Jarryn said 'what you slept with Zayd?' and I said nooo I don't want to sleep with Zayd and Jarryn said 'what do you mean by that?' and I don't know what else I could mean by that!!" They take a breath and let it out. "Soooo I think that's where we are now??" They look to Zayd for a confirmation. "Anyway...I don't want to sleep with you." They reach over and pat his cheek.
Jarryn meets Inigo's gaze and offers him a bleary smile, then nods along with Alín's story. Yep, that all sounded right. Well, except for one thing. "I don' sound like that," he huffs. "Do I?" He gives Sorin's shoulder a little tug and looks at him expectantly.
"Oh, I dunno. I think it was a striking impression. Haunting, even," Sorin insists, not looking anyone in the eye. With all the grace his slight, drunken frame can muster, he delicately removes Jarryn's hand from his shoulder, and rises from his seat. "Stepping out for a bit, friends. Won't be long." He shuffles back behind his chair, turning to leave the tavern.
"Uhh. Sounds like I missed a lot," Zayd says, shooting a confused look at Inigo. Swaying over to Jarryn and grabbing hold of everything along the way for balance, he stops behind him and practically collapses with his arms wrapped around Jarryn. He watches Sorin go with a slightly furrowed brow and mumbles into Jarryn's neck, "Is-.... should someone go with him?"
Alín looks like they want to say something, but Sorin is already leaving the table before they can get it out. They watch him go, a confused look on their face.
Inigo shrugs at Zayd and shakes his head. Nooo clue.
"Uh. I mean. I can...go? I mean. If you're worried. I think it's safe to say I'm the least drunk one here," Aban offers.
Jarryn frowns deeply as he watches Sorin retreat from the tavern. He reaches up to hold onto the arms Zayd has wrapped around him and looks over at Aban. "Would... would you, please? Make sure he's okay? An' tell him I'm sorry??"
"Sure, of course," Aban says, and pushes his chair back from the table. He pats Jarryn's arm before he stands, then give Zayd a light tap on the back. "I'll make sure he doesn't wander too far." He excuses himself from the table and makes his way outside.
"So, we did miss a lot while we were dancing," Inigo says, shaking his head. He finishes off his ale.
It doesn't take much searching to find Sorin. "Hey," Aban says with a nod. Rather than bothering Sorin, he leaves the elf some space. Instead, Aban puts his hands in his pockets and silently looks up at the sky.
Leaning against the outside of the tavern, the elf nearly fumbles the small pipe he's holding, startled by Aban's sudden appearance. "What did, w- when did-" A look of understanding dawns on Sorin. "Right. You can tell that lot I haven't stormed off anywhere. Sorry they sent you out here," he mutters, taking a long pull, with shaking fingers. After a lengthy exhale, he corrects himself. "No. Sorry. You can absolutely do whatever you like." Sorin shakes his head.
"It's all right," Aban says with a shrug. He glances down at Sorin. "I think they're worried about you getting mugged or walking off into the bay. Ah. Right. Jarryn says he's sorry." He looks back up. "And don't you worry about me - I volunteered. Don't mind standing here for a bit...you can pretend I'm not here if you want." He chuckles.
Sorin looks up at Aban, from the corner of his eye. "Fancy a hit?" He gestures with the pipe.
"Hmmm. Nah, I shouldn't," he replies, shaking his head. "Thank you though."
Sorin nods, finishing the bowl in silence. In about five minutes, he dusts everything out, and tucks the pipe away in his robes. "Thank you for being my bodyguard," he calls up at Aban, smiling genuinely. "Shall we?"
Meanwhile, Alín has slumped down with their head on the table. They're muttering something to themself, but it's definitely not in Trade.
Jarryn's hand snakes across the table and lightly pats the back of their head, fingers momentarily getting caught up in the mass of curls.
"Of course," Aban says with a chuckle. "Shall we?" He pulls his hands out of his pockets and does a little bow before he leads them back into the tavern.
Alín makes a noise when Jarryn pets their head. They make no effort to sit up.
Inigo watches them with a stupid smile on his face.
Jarryn gives Alín a few more pats before managing to free his fingers. He then shrugs a single shoulder, nudging Zayd. "Go get me another mead."
Zayd groans before releasing him and trudging over to the bar.
"You sure you need another one, Jarryn?" Inigo asks. He leans over the table and peers at Jarryn curiously.
"Hello again," Aban says. He returns to his seat and sits down with a grunt. He does a little flourish of presentation as Sorin sits down again, but otherwise doesn't comment on their absence.
Jarryn straightens up a bit once his shoulders are free and looks back over at Inigo. "... No," he shrugs. He glances as Sorin as he returns and offers a faint smile before quickly looking away. He then reaches over for Aban and gives his big arm a nice pat of thanks.
Alin's lack of composure, and conspicuously empty glass, catch Sorin's attention. "Oh my," he mutters, poking the other elf in the shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Inigo frowns. He starts to say something, but Jarryn looks away. So instead, he stays silent.
Aban tips his head to Jarryn, then takes a sip of his drink.
"Mm?" Alín turns their head to look at Sorin. They give him a bleary smile and reach back to grab at his finger. They mutter something in Elvish to him.
Sorin smiles. He leans in to reply, also in Elvish, lowering his voice for no apparent reason.
Jarryn, very slowly and carefully so absolutely no one will notice he's even moving, slides out of his chair and moves back to his original seat, only tripping over his own foot a little as he sinks down into it.
Zayd returns to the table then, slamming down a mug in front of Jarryn that's only half full. He looks at it with genuine confusion, then annoyance. "That's-... I don't know what happened. I might have drank it, or it, maybe it spilled. I can get you another one!" he offers, swaying into the table and leaning into it casually.
Inigo leans against Jarryn once he's back in his seat. He jumps a little when Zayd slams the mug down, then laughs when he sees that's it's only half full.
Aban nods to Zayd to get his attention. He lifts a hand to feign a wiping motion near his own scarf-covered chin. The evidence, Zayd. The evidence.
Alín moves their hand and reaches out for Sorin's face. They poke at his cheek and smile again. "Good," they say in Trade.
Jarryn puts an arm around Inigo when he leans against him and nearly falls out of his chair when Zayd suddenly appears beside him and slams a drink down in front of him. He squints at the mug, then Zayd, back and forth a few times before waving a hand at him. "S'fine. You... you sit. Don't fall. I c'nt pick you up right now."
"No," Zayd responds simply, pushing off of the table and wandering back to the bar.
Jarryn frowns and watches Zayd wander off again, then turns his attention back to his mug.
Inigo nestles a little closer into the crook of Jarryn's arm. He lazily waves as Zayd goes back to the bar, then sets his hand on Jarryn's arm. "You don't have to drink it, you know," he says, and nods toward the mug.
Taking advantage of Inigo’s distraction, Sorin stands up, and leans across the table to swipe the half-empty mug out of Jarryn’s grasp. “You don’t have to drink it, because I will. You might have had enough already, anyhow.” He winks, sliding unsteadily back into his seat.
"Lethallin, you shouldn't've either. You're...you're drunk already," Alín says, batting at Sorin's hand.
Jarryn looks up quickly when his drink is stolen right out of his grip. He stares at Sorin, betrayal in his eyes, before dropping his gaze back to the table. "You c'n have it," he says quietly, sinking down in his chair.
"I can! I can have it, see? Alín, shh, it's fine. I had water. I had a break!"
Alín narrow their eyes and looks at Sorin blearily. "Mmmfine," they say. But then their hand shoots out and grabs at the mug. Their fingers brush over Sorin's lightly before they wriggle underneath and snatch the mug away. They look a little too pleased with themselves as they take a big drink.
"If it means that much. Hold on..." Inigo carefully removes Jarryn's arm from his shoulder. He lightly kisses Jarryn's cheek before he stands and hurries over to the bar.
Though flagrantly hypocritical, Sorin looks affronted. He raises an eyebrow as he watches Alín take a drink. "Oh, and you're the picture of sobriety."
"Mmmm no," Alín replies, wiping at their mouth with the back of their hand. "Never said I was..." They smile brightly before sliding the mug back to Sorin. They'd managed to down nearly half of what had been left.
Inigo returns a minute later, holding a new mug of mead. "Here," he says, putting it in front of Jarryn. "Just take it slow. And I'll help you protect it from any potential...thieves." He eyes the others sitting across the table.
Aban raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, don't blame me..."
"Thanks," Jarryn says, his voice still quiet. He doesn't look up at Inigo, but he does put his arm around him again once he sits back down. His other hand forms a death-grip on the mug as he pulls it in closer.
Zayd makes his way back to the table, giving an enthusiastic wave to the group he'd been chattering with. Turning to the table, he huffs out a groan. "Seriously, I've had more captivating conversation with a 3-year old. What'd I miss?" he asks, leaning one arm on Jarryn's shoulder.
"Sorin stole some mead," Alín says brightly. "Then I thieved it from him."
"So...not a lot," Aban says.
Inigo frowns and leans in closer to Jarryn. He brushes some of the man's hair aside and tilts his head to speak softly into his ear.
Jarryn finally looks to Inigo with a loud sniffle, his eyes red and cheeks wet with freshly-fallen tears. “I jus’… I jus’ want you to know I love you. Alla’ you,” he addresses the table, voice cracking at the word 'love.’ He looks at all of them in turn, starting with Inigo with an overwhelming fondness. It turns a bit sadder, more complicated when he looks at Alín, and his jaw begins to tremble as he locks eyes with Sorin. A single tear escapes his eye and he quickly looks to Meraad's empty chair, giving it a full turn before looking to Aban, who gets a bit of guilt to go along with his pathetic gaze. His eyes flicker up to Zayd, his breath hitching as he makes an absolutely pathetic sound. “I never had friends. Like, like this. That I care ‘bout so much. I wanna make you all happy, so much. I promise, I. I'll do everythin’ I can to be good f'r you.” A few more tears roll down his cheeks. He takes a shaky breath, then picks up the mug with both hands and downs it in one go. Poor Inigo is left crushed between his bicep and his chest.
Sorin is frozen in his seat, mug halfway to his lips. He casts a desperate, wide-eyed look at Zayd.
Zayd's mouth opens and closes in rapid succession as he scrambles for something to say. "Jarryn," he begins, hopping into a sitting position on the table. He places a hand on Jarryn's shoulder, and one on the side of his head. "You are a gentle, upstanding, loving, wonderful, and beautiful mountain of a man." He brings both hands to Jarryn's cheeks and squishes them together, furrowing his brows slightly in concentration. "And you need to stop drinking."
Jarryn stares up at Zayd, tears still leaking from his eyes, but his arms slowly lower and release Inigo from his muscled prison. He says, in the most petulant and pathetic voice he can muster, "N-no."
Aban blinks, looking around the table. Was this...normal?
Alín's eyes widen. Their mouth falls open as they stare at Jarryn. They say something in Elvish, then shake their head a little. "That was...that was very kind, Jarryn," they manage to reply.
Inigo holds back a gasp when he notices the tears. He's about to say Jarryn's name again when the man starts to speak. He listens, his own eyes glistening. "J-Jarryn," he says from his squished position. He's finally released when Zayd comes to the rescue. He clears his throat. "Jarryn. You are a good friend," he says. "And Zayd is right about the drinking. Along with everything else." He reaches out and gently brushes some of Jarryn's hair back.
Sorin clears his throat, the mug in front of him, forgotten. "Jarryn," he says, carefully, as if the man were a small animal he didn't want to frighten, "do you... would you like to go home and rest?"
Jarryn looks at Sorin as best he can with Zayd still squishing his face together. "No. M'fine." He sniffles loudly again. "Promise."
"Alright, well. Would you like some water? I could return the favor, from earlier." He smiles brightly, nodding towards the bar.
".... Maybe," he mumbles, pushing himself forward and resting his head against Zayd's chest.
Inigo leans forward and strokes the back of Jarryn's head. He frowns and exchanges a look with Zayd.
"I can get it," Aban says to Sorin. "I'd like another for myself too." He stands up from the table and makes his way over to the bar.
"He's tall," Alín observes, slumping over onto the table again. Their moment of clarity has ended.
Zayd sighs and releases Jarryn's face, wrapping his arms around the other man's head instead. "You're going to drink this water, and then we're leaving, okay? I just watched you chug another mug, and that's going to be hitting you very soon," Zayd says, kicking his legs back and forth on either side of him.
"Nnn. No. We're havin'a good time," Jarryn protests. It takes him a moment to work up the willpower, but eventually squirms out of Zayd's grasp and flops across the table instead, though he's still draped across one of Zayd's legs.
“Psst, Alín. Alín!” Jarryn whispers loudly and stretches, grabbing for both of the elf's hands with his own. “If you don't wanna sleep with Zayd then who do you wanna sleep with? Tell me. Tell me an’ I'll help you. I'm good at helpin’.” He stares at the elf expectantly through his bleary eyes.
Inigo yelps as Jarryn flops down on the table. He sighs and gives the man's ass a pat before sitting down in his chair again.
"What?" Alín's eyes are wide and they try to pull their hands back. Jarryn's grip is too tight. "I never...I didn't...what? Why are you asking?" They're confused and looking around the table. After a second, their brow furrows in concentration, and they remember what they'd said earlier. "Oh...oh oh oh oh. That." They relax and lean in closer to Jarryn's reddened face. "It's a secret," they say, and press a gentle kiss to the very top of his head.
Jarryn's eyes cross as he tries to look up at the top of his own head. Undeterred, he looks back at Alín and whispers loudly again."Then whisper it! No one'll hear then."
Alín stares at him dumbly for a second. "Mmmmm..." They lean in closer to his ear and whisper to him, their voice ever-so-soft. They then pull back, their cheeks suddenly much redder.
A grin slowly spreads across Jarryn's face and he is absolutely beaming by the time Alín moves back. "I knew it." He squeezes their hands before releasing them and slowly sitting back up. "An' you're probably right."
Alín wrinkles their nose and huffs at him. "Mmm." They sink back into their seat and slump with their head on the table again.
Inigo blinks. Wow.
"Here we are...oh. Okay. This is different," Aban says, setting the water down near Jarryn's head. He takes his seat again.
Sorin very studiously avoids everyone’s gaze, his eyes pinned to the table in front of him. He grabs the forgotten mug, and drains the dregs.
Jarryn reaches out for Aban and ends up giving his chest a little pat of thanks. He ignores the water, leaning heavily against Zayd's chest again. "I think he's mad at me but I'll try later," he loudly whispers to Alín, then closes his eyes.
Zayd heaves a heavier sigh than before and squeezes Jarryn briefly before releasing him and pushing him upright. Handing over the water, he tells Jarryn, "Drink. Seriously, you've got to drink this. You're going to feel awful tomorrow, and probably not just physically." His gaze flickers between Sorin and Alín before he hops back to his seat.
Alín peers up at Jarryn, half their face obscured by their arm. "Shhhhhhh." They look at him and shake their head, then hide their eyes in the crook of their arm.
Inigo helps Zayd get Jarryn back into his chair. "He's right, Jarryn. Please?"
He looks incredibly unhappy about it, but Jarryn slowly sinks back into his seat and starts sipping at the water, grumbling under his breath about just trying to help.
Alín pokes their head up from their arm after a minute and grabs for the nearest mug. They tip it a little, trying to see if there's any left. Damn. They glance at Sorin, then let go of the mug. They look away and hide their face again.
“I really think we should all go home and rest, as soon as you’re finished, Jarryn,” Sorin mutters, still staring at the table.
Jarryn falls silent, sniffling again. Then, with a defiant huff, he tilts the mug up and drains the rest.
Zayd leans over and wraps an arm around one of Aban's. Setting his head on Aban's shoulder, he mutters, "It's not usually like this... I guess getting everyone to drink together was a recipe for chaos."
Aban chuckles softly and brings his other hand up to pat Zayd's arm. "It's all right. I spend enough time at the Queen - I've seen...things. This is fine. I hope you all feel well in the morning though. Think you'll need help getting home?"
Zayd groans quietly. "Mmm. Maaaybe. I... might be able to support one of the little ones, but Jarryn might be another story."
"I don't mind," Aban says, patting Zayd's arm gently. "He's a big guy, but I think I can handle him. I do lift things for a living." He laughs and looks over at Jarryn.
"I c'n walk," Jarryn huffs, setting the mug down with a loud 'clack.' Slowly, carefully, and a bit wobbily, he pushes himself out of the chair and to his feet.
Inigo stands up and stretches, feeling strangely fine. Well, maybe it's just because he's comparing himself to the rest of the table. He reaches out to see if Jarryn needs a steady hand, but the Avvar starts to make it on his own.
Sorin stands, gracelessly, holding a hand out to steady Alín, in case they topple.
Alín's head pops up from the table. They run a hand through their hair, somehow making it even wilder. They then push back from the table and wobble a little bit. They pitch to the side, nudging Sorin's hand, but quickly correct and find their balance. "Ma serannas," they murmur, and nervously play with their hair even more.
"Well," Aban says, standing up. "We're making progress." He offers Zayd his hand. "Shall we get going then?"
Zayd takes his hand and leaps to his feet. His gaze drifts to the second floor balcony, a scowl quickly making its way onto his face. He briefly throws out a rude gesture with his hand before shaking his head and turning back to Aban. "Um. Yes. Everyone seems to be fine now, but I've thought the same thing before and still woken up in a pile of crates the next morning, but I'm sure everyone has. Let's go!"
Jarryn turns and places an arm around Inigo's shoulders, pulling him in close whether he likes it or not, and leads the way out of the tavern.
Shooting Zayd a puzzled look, Sorin shuffles after him, fingertips gently guiding Alín towards the door.
Aban pulls Zayd up, then follows his gaze. He doesn't quite see who Zayd is rudely gesturing at, so he shrugs and assume it's somebody he knows. And dislikes. "Well, I'll make sure none of you end up in any trash heaps," he promises. "Though...uh. I don't know where we're going. So I hope you do."
Inigo rolls with it and puts an arm around Jarryn. "C'mon," he says. "I'll make sure you don't fall over," he says, being as sincere as he can. There's really no hope if Jarryn takes a tumble. He does make a mental note to ask who the hell Zayd was making that gesture to.
Alín glances over at Sorin and smiles. They miss Zayd's rude display and shuffle from side to side as they all exit the tavern.
Additional Summary: Everybody was able to make it home after the tavern. They said goodbye to Aban (Zayd got a hug and Sorin got a handshake). Alín tried to silently sneak upstairs, but was noticed by a still-emotional Jarryn. He let them sneak off without stopping them. Sorin gave Jarryn a very nice shoulder pat. Then, Zayd joined Jarryn in his room and forced a hangover cure on him. Inigo walked in on the process. The next morning, most of them woke up with headaches (except for drunken wonder Alín and sad-boy Jarryn). Meraad didn't come home until after breakfast.
