Alright; have a beer

[Tristan Hardt]

The sound the Elodoth makes is like the mutant lovechild of a groan and a grunt. She's right. He's being damn sentimental. He presses his beer can against his forehead and shuts his eyes.

"Tell you what. Don't tell anyone about that and I'll owe you one."

Tristan sits in relative silence, switching from beer to cigar here and there, and grabbing a new beer when his first one was emptied. His face is uncharacteristically neutral. Hell, it may even be his version of sympathetic. When she finishes, he eyes her for a moment. Then nods.

"Must have been hard on you. Leaving, coming back and having everyone gone. Says a lot about you that you've held on this long. It's, uh... good. To have someone like that in the pack." He has to avert his eyes after that one. Seeking a necessary distraction, he grabs another beer off the six-pack and holds it out. ​"Nother one?"

[Emily Makerith]

Was that.... a compliment?

"Yeah, sounds good." The Ithaeur hops off the fence and takes the can, but this time drops into the sofa opposite Tristan. "Thanks. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone. How'd you keep up this gruff macho exterior otherwise, right?"

There's a few minutes drinking in silence before Emily starts again.

"So, uh, Tristan. What do you want? If you're already thinking of a little place in the Hisil, you're gonna.... what? Help Carillon Call get set up? Wait until you think we're organised enough? Stick around until more packs return? You've obviously got experience. You're clearly a little world-weary, and you're in the most primal spirit city possibly in America. It'll be a grind here. So... what is it you're after?"

[Tristan Hardt]

'Gruff and macho'? God...

Damnit.

A man doesn't need a label to justify being damn tired of everyone's bullshit. It takes all the good sense in the world not to correct her on it. But his face can't hide his displeasure.

"Alright, good. Glad we had that talk."

Tristan sighs wearily - being confronted with such a straightforward question. One that he'd asked himself on more than one occasion. "I just want to... do a good enough job. Get done what needs to get done. Keep from feeling ashamed that I've somehow failed at my duties. And, eventually, train someone to take over for me. So I can retire."

[Emily Makerith]

The Ithaeur sees the growing ire on Tristan's face and groans. "Oh come on, Tristan! It's not as if you've shown off any other side until fifteen seconds ago, and you're getting mad because I'm telling you that's what you act like?" She throws her head back onto the couch.

"You are so. Serious," Emily says, still staring at the porch ceiling. "Dammit.... Look, I'm not saying you don't have a right to be. You do a tough job all day and have this," she waves an arm vaguely out towards the world, "to come back to - a budding pack mostly twenty years younger than you trying to literally carve a territiory from a hostile urban wilderness. Plus anything else you're keeping bottled up in there, and no, I'm not asking."

She turns her head so look at him out of the corner of her eye. "Look. I met the others. I talked to them. Chris admits he's out of his depth. Viola seems to hate everything and only puts more than two words together to express that she hates it. Hector is the Alpha, and the Pack listen to him, but he's really not what I expected. He's eccentric, and adaptable, and out-thinks things. I can dig that, but it's hard to see if he's serious sometimes. But you... you keep everyone else grounded. You stick to the facts. You use your experience. This Pack needs you for that. You are doing a good job - a necessary one - even if no-one has said as much. It's just a job no-one really likes you for and it's a hard one."

She looks away awkwardly, and chews a nail. "I'm glad you're doing it. Making us step up." It's muttered quietly. barely audible.

[Tristan Hardt]

"Which is good." he interjects, when she mentions things he's 'bottled up'.

Tristan doesn't seethe, but he keeps a stone face as she goes on. He doesn't look in her direction - instead finding the smoke be blows into the air (apparently) more important to watch. But the girl is laying praise at his feet. For all the supposed alienation and whatever else she might have felt, she's talking like she respects Tristan. And not just the position he holds, either.

He lets out a long sigh, then finally turns in her direction. "Hope you're right about all that. And... thanks." His grave exterior cracks again, just enough to let a tiny ray of positivity out. Then he rests his own head back and stares up at the sky. "I'm not tellin you to leave, but maybe we just enjoy the stars for a bit. Sound good?"

Feels like a good place to wrap. Feel free to close out with your next post. And thanks! Even I didn't expect Tristan to get all chummy.

[Emily Makerith]

Emily casts a sidelong glance at Tristan, then looks up at the sky. "Whatever, old timer," she says lightly, peeking at him out the corner of her eyes. Even from the side, Tristan can see she's smiling.

The Ithaeur takes a long swig from the can, sighs contentedly, and looks up and the stars.

Yeah, I think that's a wrap! I wasn't sure what to expect, but Emily thinks she knows what's making Tristan tick a little better.