(1312-07-04) Seasonals
Summary: Jehan-Pascal and Paris entertain some of the former's business contacts in the Kraken's Den of a hot day; Charlotte aids in entertainment.
RL Date: Date of RP
Related: None
jehan-pascal paris charlotte 

The Kraken's Den — Port — Marsilikos

A tall-tottering inn with a variety of rooms to let on the upper floors, from three fine suites just above the main floor to a collection of ramshackle one-cot rooms that sway with the harder gusts of wind in off of the sea in the upper levels. It has seen its share of fires and renovations, and every time it falls in ashes it seems to rise higher in the aftermath. Outside, proudly burnt-carved signage displays a huge black-tentacled kraken winding its limbs about in repetitive knotwork patterns. It hangs from a post on four links of bronze chain, and creaks when the wind hits it.

The main floor is part restaurant, part lobby, with a warm hearth next to a counter at which guests in the rooms above can pay their bills or ask after vacancies, many fine chairs and some a little less fine to fill out the number. Small tables amid all the seating provide room just enough to have a tea or a beverage and maybe play a game of cards with your mates. A low bannister-fence separates off the dining area from the lobby, to keep some semblance of order among the diners and to keep out the riff-raff.

Riff-raff, of course, is welcome to make its way downstairs, or else to descend into the alleyway behind the tavern and find the rear entrance into the half-basement, where a bar slings some of the hardest-scorching liquor known in Port Marsilikos, and attracts some of the roughest elements of society. It's dimly lit, with rough stonework walls and flooring and sturdy oaken furniture which must have been built in order to best resist any effort to shatter said furniture over someone's head. Fights are the nightly norm here, black eyes and sopping intoxication, and for those without the coin to attract the contract of a proper courtesan, some affable ladies are usually present in the evenings in case any gentleman wants to buy one a drink.

When looking out of the windows, you see: It is a summer day. The weather is hot and clear.


It's a hot day! HOT! HOT HOT! and it seems the now fully marqued Glycine courtesan has decided to chill a little. Literally, since, it seems the Kraken, ill famed dive and all, has managed to get hold of some ice from the Flatlands and stores it in their cellar, serving drinks over cubes of it. And if the spiced rum is usually a bit harsh, people seem to enjoy the novelty of the ice. Paris is wearing loose white silk pants as always, but just an open silk vest , showing off his dark hued skin as he sits crosslegged on the bar, sipping at a large glass. He may have had to give the barkeep a kiss to earn that spot but…he enjoys it.

The hottest part of the summer always directly corresponds with the briskest weeks of the trading season, and the harbor is bustling, as well as the harbormaster's, with frequent meetings finely appointed by noble coin with merchants with whom the nobility are attempting to make good business. But Jehan-Pascal has long learned, or at least leaned into the philosophy that the common-born mercantile class doesn't really care to be talked down to, and so it's a good occasion to dress down; not that he needs an excuse to do so, he will generally dress down when about his business in the city, and save his stunning wardrobe for events at which it is due.

With a freshly signed set of contracts on file with the harbormaster, then, Jehan-Pascal and a few of his contacts are taking to a celebratory drink; they would generally just go upstairs to the more respectable dining area, but with the heat, physica dictate they go below to check out the supply of ice and the cool air lurking in the semi-basement.

Seeing Jehan-Pascal makes Paris squeal with glee, the boy emptying his glass and setting it on the counter, then skipping down from the abr and going to embrace the tall lord. "Oh, what a pleasure to meet you, milord, congratulations on your wedding!" He says, wrapping his arms around JP's shoulders and giving him a long, slightly boozy kiss, clearly enjoying the sight.

Jehan-Pascal is a little distracted by the whole… thing-ness of the Kraken's Den basement. But in a half-moment he finds himself with an armful of Paris— then a lipful of Paris! Surprised, at first, with a back arrested straight up and down in startlement, he eases into it, as the kiss lingers, and he lets his arms drape around the courtesan, lets his back slacken, lets his neck lose its rigidity, lets himself— well, suffice it to say he returns the kiss quite fondly. "Paris, hey," he greets, once he has free use of his mouth again, but still holding Pars casually against him. "Thank you! And call me Jehan-Pascal," he smiles. Especially here. He doesn't want to turn a bunch of heads being milorded. "Have you met Captain Lebens?" he goes on to introduce one of the fellows he walked in with, "Monsieur Ebbot?" another one of them. "Gentlemen, this is Paris no Glycine, one of this fair city's most talented servants of Naamah."

Paris beams shamelessly, having enjoyed both the kiss and JP's slight embarrassment. His teeth flash very white as he nods his head to the captain. "A pleasure to meet you, and you will have to excuse my forwardness, it is a lovely summer day!" He takes Jehan-Pascal's hands. "And I have missed mi…I mean Jehan-Pascal.." He smiles. "And glad to see you here..you must have some of these drinks with the ice."

Jehan-Pascal holds hands with Paris, gently swinging their arms between them like they were too young to even know what kissing meant. He then gives them a quick squeeze before releasing them, reaching an arm to clap fondly on the courtesan's shoulder. "I think a drink with ice sounds like just the thing, what say you, gents?" he asks his companions, who are generally of a mind to drink, for sure, and at least one of whom is very curious to drink with a courtesan. "Where are you sitting? We'll join you," JP agrees.

"Well, I was sitting..there.." he points to the bar and grins. "Marriage suits you, it seems.." Paris says , grinning a little, then leading JP on. "Of course the drinks here aren't stuff you'd take hours sipping on, like at the wine cellar…, so the ice helps." He grins to the barkeep. "A round of these for my friends.." now that he's marqued, he can afford spending a bit of cash.

"Oh— well, let's get a table, there'll be more room," Jehan-Pascal makes an executive decision, careless of the trouble Paris has gone to for prime seating at the bar. "And do you know, I think you might be right?" about marriage suiting him. "I really put it off far too long, come to think of it. And Fav is… well, tremendous, really." Paris is offering them a round, next, and he's about to lift a hand to argue, but he'll let Paris splash some cash, if that's his whim. "I'll get the next round," he settles on, while the captain and the merchant go settle at a table.

Paris pulls a chair for himself, abstaining from sitting in JP's lap. though he might have been tempted, just because he's clearly feeling mischievous today. He nods and lifts his glass. "To matrimony, then!" he takes a long swig as he leans back in his chair, the Jasmine courtesan making some small talk too. "So I take it your commercial ventures are going well too?"

Jehan-Pascal takes up his glass and lifts it in time with Paris, just settling in, himself, and crossing one leg over the other. "Oh, yes," Jehan-Pascal answers. "With the new Changemente du Monsangverse up and running and several tow-paths established up-river, we can get a much higher volume of cargo through to points south and to the coast. Captain Lebens here is taking on a full hull's worth of white barley from Valence and moving it on to Corsica for us," he grins exuberantly, then swigs back the drink and even s to cough once or twice, not— at all used to this manner of liquid. "Oh, dear."

Down the stairs comes Charlotte, an almost palpable seductive aura surrounding the young redheaded woman who is still in the process of re-tying the tie keeping her blouse in place as she steps out into the tavern room and crosses her way over towards the main bar to check in with the barkeeper on duty.

Paris is sitting in the Kraken, having bought a round of drinks for JP and his companions, the young courtesan wearing just an open vest and loose pants, and apparently sampling the bar's rather rough spiced rum on ice, since it's such a hot day, the ice that the Kraken has managed to get their hands on , helping with that!

Jehan-Pascal is dressed down, smartly, but not entirely standing out among the lower decks of the Kraken's clientele. The Captain and the merchant, as well, are possibly a little more well-off than average, here, so it puts him in a nice context. He's having a little trouble with the spirits, here, and possibly about to insist a switch to wine, but he'll finish the drink that Paris stood him, if for no other reason than to be polite, while going on with some animation about things about which Paris more than likely cares nothing. Numbers and shipping reports and percent signs… gosh.

Over to the table comes Charlotte after her brief stop at the bar, hands coming to rest on her hips and an easy smile coming to her lips as she looks down to the gathered group, "Hello there. You boys need anything, or you still doing good on your drinks?" she asks, glancing from Paris, to JP, and their other drinking companions.

Paris raises his glass of rum on ice and grins mirthfully at Charlotte. "Well, if you want to join us, I am standing drinks.." the young courtesan is maybe just a tad tipsy , or just in good humour. He does listen to the conversation with the sort of attentiveness that a courtesan ought to show.

"Ah-ah— this round of drinks," Jehan-Pascal reminds him, pushing aside his glass of rum, not quite finished, but close enough to the bottom he can claim it done. "Next one is mine, mademoiselle," he tells Charlotte. "But I think I'm going to stick to wine. White, please. Whatever these fine gentlemen want, though, a refill of the, ah—- beverage," he nods to his glass, "Or what they will."

A soft lyrical laugh passes from Charlotte's lips at Paris' invitation, "Well, if you lads are going to be paying for my time I can sit down and join you for drinks or whatever." She says before giving a nod of her head to JP, then the others, "I'll be back with your drinks shortly, you can let me know if you'd like anything else when I'm back!" She says before turning about with a twirl and making her way back towards the bar with a little sashay as she goes to fetch the wine and refills.

Paris doesn't seem to mind, the boy is a bit tipsy but happily so, his long hair flowing down his back, as he lifts his glass of cheap spiced rum. "I'll have another one of these..with some of that ice, mind." he winks to JP< maybe appreciating the lord's carefulness.

Jehan-Pascal is hardly a stranger to alcohol or temperate in its consumption; he just doesn't care for the taste of sharp liquors, preferring something that delights the taste while fortifying the spirit. "Thank you, Ma'm'selle," he expresses, lounging back into his seat and drawing his leg further up over the other. "You can have my ice, too, Paris, if you'd like," he lets him know, and, once the server is out of earshot, he adds, "What do you think, should we invite her to sit with us? I can't decide whether it would be discourteous to her not to, after having mentioned it, or discourteous to the others who may be waiting on drink." See the ethical dilemma? Paris, make it right.

Up at the bar Charlotte is collecting the various things, a pitcher of wine and a bottle of the rum for refills, as well as a couple of cups and a little bit of the ice chunks, all getting arranged on her tray as the two back at the table discuss whether to invite her to join them or not.

Paris is much less philosphically inclined, though he gives Jehan-Pascal a long grin. "Let anyone else wait.." this is the Kraken after all, anyone wanting a drink will find a way to get it. He reaches with his glass to catch Jehan-Pascal's, ice after all is such a delight! He even pics up one of those half spent cubes and rubs it against his forehead. He then nods to Charlotte. "Please , Mademoiselle."

Jehan-Pascal's cheeks glow a little bit when Paris jumps straight over the ethical pickle and puts himself and their little cadre of drinkers first. But he won't contradict their arbiter bibendi, only waving an arm to loosely summon her over, then standing and turning to offer her his seat, holding it for her to help her tuck in like a gentleman— presumably thereafter he will find another chair to bring over.

Charlotte is already on her way back over when the arm is waved, placing down the glass in front of JP and pouring wine for him first, then refilling the rum for the others, depositing a chunk of ice into each of their cups as requested before tucking her tray up under her arm, and her other hand resting on her hip, "So." She says, glancing between the group at the table.

The young courtesan grins mischevously, he enjoys the blush on JP's cheeks, then he shrugs a bit, as if at a loss… but well, he'd started with drinking, and will go on with it. "I trust we aren't imposing too much, mademoiselle.." He tells Charlotte, while grinning at JP> "Milord, I mean, Jehan-Pascal was just telling me about how he spent his nuptials." JP was probably not doing anything of the sort, but..

"What, I—" Jehan-Pascal stands at the ready with Charlotte's chair, and if Paris was meaning to fluster him thus, well, he's succeeded in spades. But if he wasn't talking about the wedding before, he's certainly happy to talk about it now. "It was very nice. A small ceremony, just family, really, and then a sort of reception line where we could meet anyone who wished to tell us good luck. A dinner and dancing later."

"Don't worry, they encourage us to entertain the guests any way they want to be entertained. And they'll charge you for it as well." Charlotte laughs softly at Paris comment, then glances towards JP with a little tilt of her head, "Oh, that's not what I imagined at all, I would have guessed your young friend was talking about how you spent your time with your bride after the ceremony and such later that night." She says with a little laugh, moving to place her tray down, but remaining standing nearby the duo. "But, congratulations I suppose, Milord."

"Oh, please, sit with us…" Paris tells Charlotte, grinning. "And don't worry, I know how that feels, though I imagine we charge more in the Night Court.." Paris winks playfully, pleasantly tipsy and sipping more at his drink, then nodding. "See, yes, that's what I meant to ask, but..I didn't mean to pry.."

Jehan-Pascal continues to hold the back of the chair, but, as Charlotte seems leery of sitting, he just sort of leans on it, striking a casual pose there with his elbows somewhat hyperextended as though, sure, he just stands this way all the time. "Oh, gosh, Paris," he chuckles at the courtesan's curiosity and the barmaid's ability to pinpoint its essence. "Truly? We were up before dawn to get ready for the day, and we only returned from the fete shortly before the subsequent dawn. We were both so tired we fell straight to sleep. And please, Mademoiselle, call me Jehan-Pascal. What should we call you?"

"Oh! That chair's for me?" Charlotte asks, laughing a bit as she moves over towards it, "Usually the folks rather have me sit on their lap rather than my own chair." She explains as she moves to sit in the offered chair, "Charlotte, Milord Jehan-Pascal." She says. "And right straight to sleep, really?" she asks, a bit of disbelief in her voice as she casts a sidelong glance towards Paris before looking back up towards JP.

Paris lifts his arms a bit , at Charlotte's silent question. "Well, we're slumming, and mil…I mean Jehan-Pascal is a nice fellow.." He says with a grin, then chuckles. "Well, yes, I think it's just for companionship, not..anything more." A courtesan ought to know the difference, even if he's a bit sloshed.

"After almost a full circuit of a day spent standing, walking or dancing? Directly to sleep. I don't even remember my head hitting the pillow. I just remember how my feet felt when I got them out of my shoes and up into bed," Jehan-Pascal laughs warmly, gently easing the chair inward to seat Charlotte at the table as though she were a Lady at a banquet and not a barmaid in a hall. "Not slumming, Paris. Marsilikos is not possessed of slums," he corrects gently. "And it's a very tawdry word, too. It can't help but disparage where it goes."

"Well, if you both wish to play well behaved and tame lords while you're slumming it, who am I to disparage your choice." Charlotte says as she's seated at the table, laughing softly as she glances between the pair, giving each a little shrug in turn and grinning, "Though usually when you lot come down from your Palaces to the Kraken it's explicitly to act tawdry and misbehave!"

"I think you'll find us a magnificently mild and well-mannered lot. Well, maybe with the exception of Paris," he teases the courtesan with a tousle of his hair as he makes his way past, snagging a new chair, yet unused, from near at hand and putting it at the table with them, taking a new seat on the other side of Paris, looking across to Charlotte. "It sounds like you've got a story or two you could tell, though."

"None I'd dare tell in such polite company, Milord Jehan-Paul." Charlotte says with a shake of her head as she leans up against the table upon her forearms, laughing softly. "Though I imagine your imagination can tell many of those tales itself!' she says, "So, what brings you down here then to be terribly well mannered?"

"Jehan-Pascal," he repeats his name, gently and without derision or scolding, just a slight correction. He does lean in over the table toward her, though that's to retrieve his glass of white wine he'd ordered and forgotten to port with him across to the other side. "Captain Lebens, Monsieur Ebbot and I were on our way from the Harbormaster's and heard quite a stir about the iced rum on offer; it being frightfully hot, we took refuge in your establishment, where Monsieur Paris caught us out and began to ply us with drink," he smiles to explain.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." Charlotte says as she butchers his name, flushing a little, "And ah, are you involved with the merchant business or something?" she asks curiously, head tilting just a little bit to consider the other two before looking back towards the nobleman.

Jehan-Pascal waves it off. "That's fine, don't worry," he assures her, "What did you say your name was?" he wonders back at her, while they're getting things straight; he missed it in the great migration. "And, yes, I manage most major county trade projects."

"Charlotte, Milord." Charlotte says, answering the question before she nods her head, "And that makes sense I suppose why you're so well mannered but spend time down here on the ports." She says with a soft hmn. "Would you like some more wine?"

Jehan-Pascal does just briefly consider correcting her milording him again, but he supposes that some habits are both hard to break and at the same time good to keep; you never know who might grow offended. So he accepts his entitlement with a good grace. "There are a great lot of good people who do fine and decent work here every day. And if people work hard all day and wish to take their pleasures at night in wanton abandon, well… I don't know that I can blame anyone."

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