Spring Is Here

The TarRaCe, midday

Spring is here, spring is here. Life is sweetmeats and life is beer! That's how the tune goes, being plucked out by a minstrel of middling skill seated in the stage, playing a lute. He's not -great-, but he's young -- he'll get there. And the mood in the TarRaCe is fairly generous today.

And today, after running around all morning for errands, Telamon's in the mood for something special for lunch. The elegant half-elf steps into the festhall, dressed in a white linen tunic over dark brown breeches and boots. His hair tousled by the outside breeze, and riding on his shoulder is a small orange lizard with folded butterfly wings. The lunch crowd is already starting to amble in, and so Tel takes the opportunity to grab a table, sitting down with his little friend.

"Most everything here is good, Jyndei," he addresses the little faerie dragon, "And I figure if you're leaving soon a good meal might stand you in good stead." The little dragon pipes up, his voice high pitched, "My thanks for your generosity, Lord Lupecyll-Atlon."

Aelwyn has been distracted. The ruddy sith-makar had been scribbling something on a parchment whilst waiting for tables to serve. It takes him a moment and a nudge from the bartender, before he swiftly swings into action, rolling up with the parchment into a scroll with such flourish that it was as if part of the lute performance.

Striding up with the roll of his hips, in his white blouse and black waiter's loincloth/apron, he bows his ribboned head at the pair. "TarRaCe welcomes," He greets and then with a grin on his lips he pulls out a pen off his apron. A brief glance is given to the tousled hair, the high pitched... dragon, "And how can this one assist in the fight against hunger and cold?"

Somewhere, there's a dull thump, and the barkeep jumps a little before turning to look around at the floor. After a moment, he simply chuckles, and goes about tending bar. Something is dragged, making a squeaking, tinny noise, and then Irshya's face pops up over the top of the bar. The Goblin surveys her kingdom, nodding to patrons. From behind the bar, Irshya produces a menu, listing today's lunch special as fried cockatrice legs with cooked potatoes and a selection of winter veggies. Apple cider is the drink of the day, offered at half price.

Telamon is looking over the menu-board (with Jyndei peering as well), before glancing up to see Aelwyn. His eyebrow rises fractionally at the oddly-garbed makari, but his lips curvew into a smile. "A mug of the lemon tea, and two platters of cockatrice legs with potatoes and vegetables. Oh, and a load of the house bread as well."

The half-elf glances at Jyndei, who nods excitedly, pleased with the choices, before grinning at Aelwyn. "I think that'll be it, sir."

Aelwyn was not oddly garbed. He had a shirt on! Half open and sleeves rolled, but he had a shirt. Well, it was extremely odd for the ruddy sith-makar. Reaching into some of the large pockets of his black loincloth, he wishes around for a pad of paper - and then with careful consideration, slowly makes marks onto the paper. "Lemon... tea, platters..." He breathes quietly by himself, before he swings the notepad shut. "Perhaps a little warm cider too?" He suggests, flicking the pen between his fingers. "This one would hate to see his patrons shiver in anything else but delight." Bright grin.

Irshya watches Aelwyn tending to some customers, and one of the customers catches her eye. Not often one sees a dragon, even if a faerie one, and better still, small enough to fit into her Tarrace. She nods, pleased. Yes, upsell the cider!

The pool-shark disappears behind the bar, and is then seen heading into the kitchen. The chatter inside the kitchen reaches a crescendo, a back and forth argument being had. A gong-like ringing is suddenly heard, and all the chatter becomes muted.

Telamon looks thoughtful, but then nods. "Cider as well. Spring is finally arriving, but there's still a little chill in the air. And it's not like either of us," he tilts his head to Jyndei, "are heavy drinkers."

The dragon in question pads over to peer curiously at Aelwyn's outfit and how he's writing things down. "Perhaps when you have taken the word to the kitchens," Jyndei inquires, "you can come back and tell us about this place! It is very fine indeed, and no one is causing trouble either."

It doesn't take a scholar or even half of one to realize that Aelwyn could barely write. At least his writing was fine in big blocky letters - but the draconian could not resist adding little symbols for reminders. "Tch, a little chill? Perfect reason to stay by the fire." He stops mid motion as the actual dragon moves to examine the Dragoon - his outfit resembled a typical, proper waiter's one - but for some reason he had a loincloth with side flaps to hold his writing utensils and other knicknacks, leaving rest of his calves and legs bare, purplish and reddish scales peeking through. More oddly though, was the weather worn looking scroll he pushed in earlier. "Hmm, this rarely does, but -"

Aelwyn suddenly stops and looks over towards the kitchen. Tilting his head, along which his ribbons does as well, he turns towards the other two. "But this one always makes exceptions." Toothy 'grin', and he bows his head before starting to head towards the kitchen.

The kitchen door bangs open, and the Goblin barges out, holding a tray over her head. It bears a large pitcher of an amber drink that steams a little, as well as two glass steins. "What exceptions do you speak of?", Irshya wonders of Aelwyn, before she offers the tray to him. "I am curious to know." Her hand is held out, gesturing for the written order.

Jyndei stretches himself out to his full length vertically, looking somewhat like he's trying to mimic a meerkat. "Do you think they give tours of the kitchen?" he asks Telamon.

Tel shakes his head. "Probably not, especially when they're working. It's like when I asked you to keep an eye on Pothy and the pixies when Lana and I were working that spell. It may not be -quite- the same, but a kitchen accident can be just as dangerous as a magical one." His eyes twinkle. "Besides, it's good to let the talented have their secrets."

Jyndei nods, peering around. "It seems quieter, but that must be because it is midday." As the drinks approach, the dragon perks up. "You know, my lord, you could ask if this establishment would help with testing and sampling your libations."

Caught. Aelwyn's eyes widen as Irshya just appears out of nowhere, and he takes in a deep breath as he slides his hand along his mane of quills. "Valued patrons, Sharkie. What else?" He says with sudden practised ease, taking the tray off her. He hands over the scribbled piece of paper. "Two legs, bread basket, lemon tea, the cider." He lists off. Leaving the shark-finned goblin to fend off the dragon's questions, he neatly settles the two glasses down on the table. Tilting his pitcher, he makes it unnecessarily showy as he pours the drink.

"Stranger is Lord of the Dragons?" The ruddy sith-makar asks with a tilt of his head, then turns towards Jyndei. He keeps staring for a moment, but then he just clicks his teeth in a bit of frustration. "Hmmh, no one better to show the full extent of TarRaCe than her proprietor itself, Sharkie." He nods his head towards the Gobbo.

The order is quickly passed into the kitchen, before the Goblin approaches the table. She bumps her hip against Aelwyn, something behind her swaying enough to whack his leg. "I am Irshya, one of the three founders of the Tarrace, and current proprietor." Her eyes flick to the faerie dragon, and she offers a little curtsey. "We don't allow guests into the kitchen, it's already busy enough as it is. But if you wanted to meet our chefs, we could arrange it for later. So, with your lunch order being prepared, how else may I assist you both?"

Telamon's voice is firm. "No. I am no lord -- it is an honorific from my friend here, who I discovered in a slightly embarrassing predicament." His lips quirk into a smile. "If I am a lord, my authority extends over a small house in the University District, this little fellow, and two pixies." A pause, and he tilts his head slightly, before chuckling at something.

Shifting tacks, Tel inclines his head politely to Irshya. "Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, and his friend Jyndei, at your service, ma'am. I believe all our needs are fulfilled for the moment, but I thank you for your inquiry. I've been here a couple times, and it pleases me to see that the TarRaCe continues to thrive and prosper."

The hip bump is responded in kind and the ruddy sith's tail moves to thwap at the thicker tail assailing his feet. Aelwyn looks towards the dragon, then glances towards Telamon, and finally back towards the dragon. Leaning in down closer, and asking in a conspirational whisper, "If this one calls him a Lord, how much hell and fury would rain, honorable Dragon?" Just asking for a friend.

Irshya laughs lightly and nods. "So you rescued the little one and they have graced you with a title. It does mean something, does it not, coming from a fae being where names and titles have purpose. A meaning beyond meanings?" She curtseys once more. "The Tarrace prospers due to her staff and patrons, and I count myself lucky to have good staff and good customers."

Her attention is drawn to Aelwyn once again, her tail rising up suddenly behind her, the tip of the tail ramming into his armpit.

Aelwyn hisses as he is suddenly pushed with the tail. Stretching up to a stand, he glances towards Irshya with a questioning stare, gesturing with his hand as he leaves the pair to dine in peace. "What did this one do...?" He asks from her with a quiet rumbling.

"What exceptions did you make?", she asks, her tail swishing back and forth like a cat's. "I am curious to know." Her tail pokes and prods at him in various places, a broad grin spreading over her expression.

Aelwyn oofs and then attempts to make Irshya stop with his own tail thwips. "This sometimes pauses to talk with the patrons," The draconian explains. "Exceptions." He explains... but then he pauses. "Or so this one says. Makes each encounter a bit more unique, does it not?"

The pool-shark lunges and snaps at the Sith's tail with her teeth, not missing by much. "Erf. As long as you are doing your job, talking with customers isn't an exception. It is customer service." Her tail suddenly prods at his groin. "I had worried it was something else you meant."

Aelwyn grunts as he sway his tail out of those teeth's way, and then grins down at Irshya. "Now that would be an exception." He leans down and rumbles quietly in her ear. "On the first order." Giving her butt a slap, he then makes his way to the kitchen, tail swaying behind him.