Ready, Fire, Aim!

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Rec Cavern
This large cavern is painted a pleasant shade of pale blue-green, with purple highlights along borders. The weyr's badge is featured in a twin tapestries hanging on either side of the entry. Directly inside the doors and to the right is an area with bookshelves and a long computer desk for the public computer. Several chairs line the desk so that people waiting for the computer may pursue other studies. To the left of the entrance is a sitting area with a chess set built into a table.
Along the wall to the left is a bar, set up against the storage closet. Tall metal chairs with bright purple and blue-green cushions line the bar; beside the bar is a pair of gambling machines. Prior to recent renovations, the bar was set up on the other side of the room in front of a huge mirror inset into the wall. Now that mirror is behind a slightly elevated stage featuring a piano recently built by the Harper Hall and transported to the islands. Several music stands and musician's chairs are stacked against the wall, for use when Harpers or weyrfolk desire to perform.
Along the wall opposite the entrance are dart boards, each with a set of couches and chairs nearby for relaxation between turns. And all throughout the room are sitting areas with similarly constructed couches and chairs, all featuring blue-green or purple fabric. Short, darkly stained wooden tables are centered inside each sitting area, for games, food, drinks, and whatever else weyrfolk need. Near the center of the room is a large, long table useable both for crafty pursuits or table tennis, and interspersed throughout the room are card tables with wooden, cushioned chairs.

No matter the time of day, the rec room is always in some state of hustle and bustle, and today is no exception. Heryn is on the other side of the bar for once, chatting animatedly to the older man behind it. Laughs and grins are about as frequent as his sips of an amber liquor in his glass (which is to say, there are a lot of them), and though he isn't drunk by any means, Heryn's definitely enjoying himself. Eventually, the bartender has to move on to other customers, but not before depositing a stack of darts onto the counter before him. "Thanks," Heryn says, giving the man a jaunty mock-salute as he scoops up the pile, blue-grey eyes peering across the room to spy the empty dart board.

Citayzleat is - in a bit of a huff. In fairness, there is a firelizard buzzing around her head like a particularly irksome bug, making loud squeaking sounds. Resolutely ignoring the firelizard, the healer gestures to the bartender, smiling thinly. After a quiet word, Cita has a vividly gold-pink concoction in hand, and looks slightly less likely to lose her cool as she turns to the room at large. The presence of her current second-favorite barkeep does get a smile, at least, though it's tempered by the wrinkle of her nose. "Careful. The darts are rigged." Cita calls, sinking into a chair and continuing to ignore the squeaking firelizard. "That or the board's on wheels." That's her story, yeah.

Second-favorite?! Good thing Heryn can't read minds, he'd be offended! As it is, the young man spies Citayzleat's approach, shooting her a brilliant smile… followed by a snort. "Rigged?," he asks, brows lifting slightly. He laughs when she continues, taking a moment to eye Tansy's frantic winging before shaking his head over at the Healer. "Ah, yes. I have heard that. Spins that board right around so you miss the bullseye every time." His deadpan vocal delivery is rather ruined by the smirk playing around the corners of his lips, chin jerking thataways even though she's only just sat down. "Wanna give it a shot anyways? I can show you a few tricks to keep it from spinning." Or he might lose an eye, but hey.

If the look of pure gratitude that Cita shoots over her shoulder to the current bartender is any indication, the healer would probably give her current fave her first-born child, and maybe the second too. She *needs* that pink — whatever it is, and takes a healthy gulp of it before batting a hand at Tansy and pointing the glass at Heryn. "You bet your sharding — ARGH." With visible restraint, Cita doesn't smack the firelizard cartoon-style flat against the wall. The Apprentice does stand, drink in hand, to stalk over to Heryn. "Sure." That grin is a little sketchy, really. Should a healer be so excited for the potential of putting somebody's eye out? "You're not worried weighted darts'll throw you off?" Or, you know. Somebody. Anybody else.

Heryn's brow raises just a tad further for that look, arching really quite impressively high at this point. "…Rough day?" Though even he's about done with the little green flit, and he's only been around her for a minute. "Nah, I'm sure it'll be fine," he says famous-last-words-ing-ly, already making his way across the room to take the last board on the end (luckily for everyone else). "If anything else, maybe flying pointy things will earn you a break." From Tansy? From Healer duties when she injures herself? Who knows. Regardless, he approaches the small line painted on the floor to indicate where to stand, takes a long pull from his drink, aims and— thunk! It sticks fast in the outer ring of the number 20. "You're up." Challenge written on his features, Heryn steps aside, hand open to allow her to pick her weapo— I mean, dart!

Cita kind of twitches a single brow of her own up, a challenge or a 'what are you doing they're going to fly away', one. "Three riders puked on me today." The healer shares, helpfully. "Two got my shirt. The third got my shoes. And *this* one won't *shut up*." Her drink-hand is, smartly, not involved in the flailing. Instead, she takes a drink, and manages a smile. Does her eye twitch a little, maybe, but she's still smiling. "I suppose you know about that, though. Rain bothering crowds?" Cita ventures, eyeing the dart board like it might grow wings and actually fly off of the wall. You never know. She doesn't look real convinced that Tansy will stop buzzing her head, though, even as she watches the bartender throw — and actually hit the board. Huff. "Lucky shot?" The Apprentice smirks faintly, and sighs, picking up a dart. She was paying attention, though. She's got this. Except she doesn't. As soon as the dart leaves her hand, it's going wildly awry, straight for poor Heryn. DUCK.

Heryn's mouth opens, then shuts again. "Yeah, okay, you win." And then she expounds upon the puking, and his face scrunches comically with each addition. "Shells. We do get our fair share, but luckily it's usually on the floor or across a table or on their friend, not on me." Touching on purpose has to at least be a little better than surprise attacks! "Not as much as you'd think," is said of the rain with a sigh, but the noise is quickly replaced by a laugh when she calls his strike a lucky shot. "Luck. Practice. Same difference." Still, his arms fold after she takes her dart, the man turning to watch the board and see where she'll strike. Maybe she's bluffing. Maybe she's just bad. Maybe— maybe she totally flings that dart right at Heryn, and it strikes him right across the skin of one muscled bicep. "Shells!" It doesn't stick, thankfully, but there's definitely blood to accompany a startled jump and a splash of alcohol, just in time for the room to start veritably vibrating with the announcement of the impending clutching. Because why not have everything happen at once?

"Do you know how antsy some dragons get when -" Uh-oh. Maybe she should have looked to make sure the dart just missed the board, instead of taking a drink and waving a hand imperiously. Cita's eyes widen Her jaw drops. Sweet Faranth's tail fork, that's *blood*. "…oh, f—" Yeah, it's good that Tansy takes that moment to slam into her face, humming like a vacuum cleaner or a defective engine of some sort. "Heryn!" Is muffled by tiny wings trying to suffocate her, but Cita lurches towards the bar all the same, prying the firelizard off with one hand and thumping what's left of her drink down with the other. "Sharding crack-shelled wonky darts," Yes, clearly, it's the darts. "Medical kit!" One is produced quickly enough, a very helpful pot of numbweed and a scrap of linen. Not exactly up-to-standard. "Shells! Infirmary. I'm sorry." Cita's eye twitches, and she grabs for an arm, with every intent of dragging the poor bartender off to the infirmary. Eggs coming? Blood!

Bless poor Cita - she hasn't reckoned much with the sort of person Heryn is. Granted, the initial scrape was a surprise, but in the end he's more upset about the spilled drink. He downs the rest of it, mouth too full to protest her running off for a med kit, so he sort of deflates and swallows. By the time he's running back, he's wiping his thumb across a relatively shallow but jagged cut and then licking it because he's apparently never heard of sanitizing before. "It's okay-" Heryn tries to protest upon her return, thumb jerked from his mouth by her grab. "Cita, I'm fine, it's just a little blood!" Well, more than a little, now that it's flowing freely with nothing to stop it. "Really!" And, well, her aim might be for the infirmary, but if he has to, he will threaten to - and perhaps actually - physically pick her up and carry her to the clutching, one armed or no!

This scene continues in Feyruth's Clutching Scene, then returns to complete the scene.

"But if you did put my eye out - and not that I think that you will, but if you did - then I could wear an eye patch," Heryn says, as, eventually, they make it back to the rec cavern. He sounds a little too excited about that prospect, gesticulating emphatically with both hands. His injured right bicep has been rewrapped much more nicely between Feyruth's clutching and their reentrance, bandages clean and white and utterly disregarded as he beelines for the bar. "Another round, and another set of darts," he requests from good old Barkeep Man, weathering the frown he gets in return. "I promise not to bleed all over your stuff." There's a sigh then, as the man shuffles off, leaving Heryn to beam back at Cita 'we got this'-style.

The towel, it has been thrown in. Cita doesn't even look exasperated, just mildly amused, right up until the eye patch commentary comes out. "Oh, good. It'll increase your sales, an eye patch, in the right circles." The healer rolls her eyes; any harder, and they'd fly right out of her head. "You're gonna open it up again." She points out reasonably enough, following the bartender to the bar with what might be patience. Or maybe amusement. "Of course we won't, barkeep. I am one hundred percent on board with this *terrible awful plan*." Cita says serenely, flailing a hand at the 'we got this' in what is almost definitely 'you're out of your damn mind'. "At least there are cold drinks here. Shells, the heat."

"Right? Shells. I'd have to get all serious and swarthy, though," Heryn says, affecting a comically grumpy face. Only belatedly does he cover one eye. "I could totally make it work." Totally ignoring that comment about reopening his wound, the man beams at his fellow barkeep, pointing one finger over at Citayzleat. "See. Totally on board." The old man rolls his eyes at the Healer, commiseratingly, depositing their drinks and a familiar pile of darts before moving off again. Dropping the dramatics, Heryn does make a bit of a face for the heat of the sands, sipping gratefully at the cool liquor in his glass. "True. I don't know how the weyrwomen endure being in there so often," he agrees, giving her time to gather up her drink before meandering back to that same dart board on the wall.

Cita's cheeks puff out in a sigh that is either aggrieved or highly amused, one. Hard to tell. "Right. I can see that." She lifts an eloquent eyebrow, face completely straight for a moment before she's snorting laughter. "Of course you could." Cita definitely doesn't taunt, sharing the eyeroll with the older barman and slapping away the pointing finger. Clearly, the younger of the two alcohol-keepers is crazy as a concussed wherry. Cita does grab her drink, and follow, for all that he's pants crazy. "I never knew they were so hot. I mean, I assumed they were exaggerating. It must be even worse down there." The healer's brow wrinkles. "Do you think the weyrwoman got proper treatment for exposure to it?" She narrows her eyes a little, but doesn't bolt, instead fixing the dart board with a supremely suspicious look. "This board does not like me." Because *Heryn* is the crazy one.

Heryn's feeth flash in his face for the snorting and the finger-slapping, but he settles down on the whole, posture conveying much less mirth, and a little more thoughtfulness. "Honestly? Probably not, unless she made sure to drink some once she got to the clutching celebration. Who knows, maybe they remind each other to do so," he says with the shrug of someone who's never stopped to think about it before. "And I think it's less the board and more the darts you're struggling with, but that's why we're here! Now…," he trails off before delving into what is sure to be a thoroughly entertaining lesson on darts and How to Put the Pointy End to the Board.

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