The clatter and clink of cheers. Laughs shared around tables as stories swapped amidst friends and new found kith mixed with long lost kin.

"Closing times in about two hours," Matvi said in a voice between them. His eyes didn't falter. Though they flicked to some gesture Mariel made from the floor. He got up, and went back to the bar.

From over his shoulder, "Fiddler's is a closing time kind of place," he let on, and went on to mix up a new round of drinks. "For working folk to catch a bit culture," he said with a wink, poured long count from on high. Set bottle down and mixed another measure of something darker in. "Bit of trouble too," he said with a grin. "If they're so inclined," keeled his head to the sailor. Jens.

"You can meet us here, if you'd like," He set to mix the drink.
 
Two hours. Marked — What a perfectly sufficient time, easily lost and hardly missed.

“ Safe to assume I would like just that. “

He toasted for it, taking a perfectly dainty sip of his drink. Delilah was nursing hers, leaning against an elbow, a bit of weight about her shoulders and the smile that persisted. Despite all.

“ What sort of trouble? Dice? “ She started, watching the barkeep.
“ You going to tag along to keep me safe? “ Jens shot back, leaning his frame against her, arm to arm.
“ I’m not a damn barnacle, Jens. “ Delilah scoffed. “ And I’ll suppose he’ll do that just well enough, being a knight and all. “
“ Sure— “ He shrugged one shoulder, diplomatically, head cocking to cast a inspectorial eye at Matvi. “ Though what sort of knight he is, yet eludes me. “

“ One with a title. Was that a tinge of a ‘y’ in there? “ His fellow sailor continued, draining the rest of her drink.
" Really? I didn't notice. "
" You woulnd't— nuance. They sound nigh the same, but the mouth—" She twirled a claw in the air, indicating her lips. " Makes a different shape. "
 
Mixing vessel popped with a haze of sweet smelling mist. Set onto the table, a cup grabbed, scooped, and filled with ice. Then again. A pour in one, and the next. A trickle of amber and rouge that almost seemed milky with froth. A slice of lemon, cut to translucent rounds. Laid flat upon the rim for a bit of pop.

Mariel swept in and picked them up. "Dice to be sure, even a bit of cards every now and again, and all manner of wants and likes one might be in the mood for," she swept away.

Matvi wiped down his hands with a rag. "Fancy a bit of painting, and they've a room for that too," Matvi laughed. "Only one rule really," he slapped the rag over one shoulder and looked to the pair of them. "Everybody pays for their drinks," he gave them a grin.

"As for my knighthood," he said with a close of his eyes and a raise of his chin. "More of a, second date kind of thing," he peaked an eye at Jens with a smile. "But I'll keep you safe, sailor, don't you worry about that," he smiled the wider.
 
Painting hadn’t been on the list when himself had considered an all manner of wants and likes. That it should’ve been for someone else, was again a bit of that mystery chipped away. A whole lot yet remained, held onto by rule and wit. A perpetual open book, he wouldn’t mind dueling both.

“ Second date. “ He keeled his head in mock surprise, eye narrowing and smile lopsided like he was holding in a snicker. “ I’ll have to make sure to last that long, then. “
“ Nothing like some painting to really wear a man out. “
“ Truly. Threaten me with art and I’ll be plain feral— “ Shaking his head, he blew out an agonized breath.
“ I’ll search the beach for you, in the morning. “
“ No, no. I believe he just promised to escort me home. “ He indicated the man in a point, too self-assured.
“ Careful with the ideas you get from there, old catfish. “ Delilah warned, pushing her empty glass away from herself. Her expression grew into a caricature of apologia, her index awiggle in the space betwixt herself and Jens. “ We share a room. “

“ It’s cost effective. “ He protested, glass landing on the counter in a pointed clap.
“ I didn’t say it wasn’t. “ The Deva countered, fangs bared in a sneer.

“ What else do they have rooms for? Why do you need a separate one for— “ He started, genuinely.
“ Measuring knighthoods? “ Delilah cut in past the rim of his now lost drink, brows arched. He snorted, palming his forehead.
“ Stop. I’ll die. “
“ You can’t. We’ve places to be tomorrow. " She clapped him on the arm. " Man up.“

" It's not that kind of place, am sure. "
 
Matvi laughed, a huff to himself. All bright teeth and dark hair. A measure of proper comportment found and applied as he tugged on the hems of his doublet. His face flush. He leaned forward and shared behind a palm that mocked hiding. "Only one way to find out,"

Mariel returned, a spent round of cups and bottles. "Are you lot still on about the Fiddlers?" She teased. "You'd think, such worldly salmon wouldn't bat an eye at such a prospect," she egged on as she unloaded. "So far up the river and all,"

"They're just playing shy," Matvi said as he eyed Jens, all the more familiar after hours of banter. Comfortable and relaxed.

"Shy?!" Mariel laughed, squinty eyed and leaned back. She covered her mouth the back of her wrist. Cheeks full of a warm glow. She shook her head side to side. "I don't think they've a shy bone in their body, Matvi,"

The bartending knight gave a shrug. "You still have a spare room upstairs, Mar?"

She cocked a brow. "You know I do,"

"With that lichen colored divan?"

Her eyes turned to the sailors. "You two need a place to lay down?" a genuine concern in her voice.
 
One way. And he’d damn well find it.

Both him and Delilah were struck to silence as the barkeeps, in tandem, escalated the jest to parts unknown. He was almost impressed, like watching a door open further than he’d expected it to, wider still. Revealing a— Spare room?

With a lichen coloured something.

“ What’s a de-vaan? “ He asked Delilah in a mock whisper.
“ One of those fancy chairs. “
“ Ooh— “ Buoying his head, eye narrowing. “ Figure I’ll even fit in it? “

He smiled pleasantly at Matvi, a smug tilt of the head for the occasion. Delilah huffed, like alongside a ripe idiot.

“ Who cares— she offended our constitutions. “
“ I’m an old man. That’s pretty much a given— “
“ Well, I’m not! And I haven’t even had that many. “ Delilah interrupted, lips twisted with disappointment.
“ Then have another. Give her something to worry about. “ He suggested, stealing his drink back from her.
“ I don’t need more drink to do that— “ She promised, a horned head cocked at the pair manning the bar. “ But suppose I will. More of the same, citrus, what with the long voyage ahead. “

A click of the tongue and a wink. Jens hissed half of a laugh, concentrating on his own fine beverage.

“ I just wonder what ‘lichen coloured’ means. There’s so many kinds. “ He hummed past a swig.

“ At least where I’m from. Covering the rocks at the shores is a whole range all the way from a rich rust to a any which blue. Poison green. “
 
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