|A Long Way From Home|
|Summary:||A chance meeting in the street. Nothing more.|
|Town Square, Terrick's Roost|
|The town square of Terrick's Roost could be considered well-kept by the standards of the surrounding area. The stone streets run right up to the building fronts around the edge and the locals have kept the spaces between free of grass and weeds that might otherwise upstart between them. There are several homes and nicer shops located here which incline their business or residents towards those not of the peasantry. The Sept of the town can also be seen from here with its ornate stone front rising above the surrounding structures just down the cobblestone road.|
|Fri Dec 09, 288|
It seems to be a relatively quiet morning in the town. The common-folk are going about their business with the usual level of hustle and bustle, but the streets are not of themselves overly crowded. Amongst them is Nares. The Ironborn is armed and armoured as usual, but not looking in the least bit bothered by the odd looks he attracts. In fact, if anything, the glint in his eyes would indicate that he relishes them. Tucked into his belt is a pair of well worn gloves and given the attention he's paying to the leather workers around it doesn't take too much of a genius to work out his aim. Apparently, that age old method of just running someone through and taking their gloves is rude. Who knew? Fucking rivermen and their funny ways. His expression is set in a light frown, not quite a scowl, but from the lines it looks like it might head that way, although if that’s a result of the prices he's being quoted, the beer consumed last night or just his natural expression it's hard to tell.
Emerging out of the stables, Tam is absently brushing a bit of hay from the side of his worn leggings. He moves with a stolid confidence into the crowd, far from graceful, but projecting a no-nonsense air. The burly hedge knight is, of course, armed with his hand-and-a-half sword and his dagger, but he bears no armor of any sort. Before moving further into the crowd, he pauses, surveying the square with a calm scrutiny. His attention fixes on Nares, sizing up the Ironborn, more curious than threatened, and he begins ambling in that direction, absently drawing out a long-stemmed pipe from his belt-pouch.
Laughing in the face of a tradesman whom he considers to be taking the piss, Nares turns and moves away. Oddly enough, he doesn’t have a huge amount of trouble moving through what crowds there are, it’s almost as if he has a small bubble around him that no one seems particularly keen to enter. When he spots the hedge knight’s approach is difficult to pin down, although the moment his hands drop to, and clasp, his belt is a fair point to start from. His brows are still knit but his eyes are bright an alert, darting around occasionally as if keeping a careful eye out. Still, one leatherworker yet to try, maybe he’ll take the potential commission more seriously.
"Works better if you haggle, Ironborn." The title lacks the hostility usually found in these parts - simply a label, nothing more. Tam draws to a halt just outside of sword-reach - a respectful distance, acknowledging the other man's right to his personal space. Still, there is nothing timid about the big knight - his voice is low and coarse, clearly common-born, as he absently tamps a bowl of tobacco into place in his long pipe and lights it from a taper dangling out of his fixings pouch. "But there's another leatherworker, off closer to the Castle, you don't find what you want here." He pauses, sizing up Nares with a laconic smile, puffing on his pipe, the bowl glowing briefly before he releases a plume of smoke from the corner of his mouth. "You make them nervous with your armor," he observes of the smallfolk around the pair. And then, as abruptly as he has initiated conversation, he says "Ser Tam Cooper." A brusque, though not unfriendly, introduction.
Nares turns to properly face the hedge knight as he speaks, the frown neither growing nor diminishing. He considers just walking on by, but his good mood from last night has not been entirely annihilated by the exertions of the morning so far. He stops a pace after the other man though, making it dagger rather than sword range, not caring for his own person space but wanting to know if Tam does about his. He ignores the comment about haggling but does pick up on the one about his attire. He smiles faintly at it, although the amusement does show in his eyes, sheep are always nervous when there are wolves around. His tone is flat and emotionless but his accent is unmistakeable, especially to anyone who’s heard the Lady Harlaw speak. At the introduction he takes a moment to size the man in front of him up and then replies, in the same tone as before, “Captain Nares.”
Tam doesn't seem bothered by the other man's proximity; he absently sucks on a purple knuckle, perhaps smashed while working in the stables - or then again, perhaps not. Puffing on his pipe again, he studies Nares with an imperturbable air, his grizzled features openly studying the other man. "Wolves hunt in packs," he finally ventures, his gruff notes carrying with them a hint of amusement. "It's a pleasure, Captain. I like Ironborn. Always up for a scrap." Again, the faintly-insolent amusement as he takes another lengthy puff on his pipe, gray eyes twinkling.
Nares does not rush the other man as he takes his time in his survey, he simply stands, shoulders square, and lets him take as good a look as he wants. "I suppose land predators would have to resort to such means," he offers, once it seems the knight is done. He doesn't move his hands from his belt he gives a faint shrug to show just how much he cares about such details. As for the comments about his kinsmen, well, he can hardly deny it's true, even if he had a desire to. "I'll remember that," he replies, tone still flatly neutral, "just in case."
His smile stretching a bit, Tam nods his head agreeably, puffing on his pipe. He looks over at the assortment of leatherware, gaze fixing on the same pair of gloves Nares had been looking at. "Far too bloody pricy - you're right." Somehow, he makes it sound as though his assertion makes Nares' own more valid. "You're a long way from home, Captain. But then - so am I. I think." Grinning crookedly, Tam looks sidelong at Nares, reaching up to scratch at the scar beneath his beard.
"I am." Nares confirms, although if he's talking about being right or being a long way from home it's hard to tell. It's clear though that he's not feeling like offering any kind of explanation. He glances to the leatherworker then back to the knight before stepping to his left to pass swordhand to swordhand. "I have business I should be attending to," he offers by way of explanation for the move, then starts back in the direction of the stronghold.
Tam doesn't offer a goodbye, letting the Ironborn have the last word. He does turn to watch the man go, a canny expression creasing his bluff features. Puffing on his pipe idly, the hedge knight waits a spell before turning away, approaching the leatherworkers and beginning to haggle viciously over the same pair of gloves.