|Not Such an Easy Girl|
|Summary:||Ser Jarod Rivers continues to alienate the female population of the Roost one woman at a time.|
|Related Logs:||All the Post-Breakup Jarod Flail logs. See The Best Man I Know for a brief summation of the history of Ser Jarod Rivers and Miss Lyla Carrity.|
|Rockcliff — Terrick's Roost|
|Sat Nov 26, 288|
Ser Jarod Rivers has been seen far less than usual around the Rockcliff over the past months, and even then his appearances have consisted of just drinking and playing tavern games with the lads. This afternoon, as the lunch-drinking hour rolls around, however, he comes with another purpose. An old purpose. A purpose that's always there for him to come back to whenever this month's amusement flitters away or stops holding his attention. Miss Lyla Carrity. He scans the common room, trying to locate her. He's got his hands behind his back and that boyish smile he can summon up on command on his face. This is one of those times he's brought a present.
She's at the bar, as she's often found, but there's something different about the way Lyla is interacting with her faithful patrons and her comely co-workers today. Something hard to place, but it's in the way she smiles, the way a hand lingers just a little longer on a shoulder here, or eyes twinkle just a little sadly there. She pulls the tap down to fill another series of mugs, her silky soprano drifting through the dull roar as she chitters, "Oh, you know I can't drink while I'm working, Hogar. Maybe when my shift ends."
"Fair Lyla Carrity." Jarod comes up to the bar, leaning against it, his most comely and charming grin practically splitting his face. "My eyes are overwhelmed, for they have not seen you in far too long. You got a moment? You and me haven't…talked proper in awhile, it occurred to me this morning."
Lyla hands over Hogar's mug and waves away his payment, but the man insists; he slouches across the bar to try and lob the coins down the front of her top. Lyla squeaks, ale spilling from the next cup she's halfway through filling as she shuffles back, and for a moment her wide eyes look as though they might precede a sound scolding. They don't, though - she starts to giggle, and shoos Hogar once again with her free hand. It is in that spot that Jarod leans, sporting that handsome grin he's gifted her and taken away so many times, and Lyla's own smile in return is awkward, more of a wince. "I, ah… I mean, I'm kinda tryin' to work, Jarod," she says, a little hesitant. "You want a drink?"
Jarod blinks at the less-than-enthusiastic greeting, but he shrugs. "All right. We can chat after." If she knows what he means by chat. His inflection is not subtle. In case she missed it, he winks. "I do want to get this off my hands before it wilts, though." He flourishes, out from behind his back, a red rose. "A sweet and lovely flower for a truly sweet and lovely girl. I saw this at Tordane Tower and I thought of…" Obscure emotional revenge? "…you."
Oh, she's picking up what he's putting down, but Lyla doesn't give any indication that she's putting out. Her smile quirks subtly as Jarod winks at her, and she produces a fresh mug of ale for her on-again, off-again beau. The rose he presents in return calls forth a similar hue in her cheeks, and she looks down at the bar for a second. One of her co-workers starts to snicker. "That's real nice, Jarod," mumbles Lyla, glaring down the bar at Edie. Then her big brown eyes zone in on the Rivers in front of her. "You speak to Tym while you were there, at all?"
Now Jarod is beginning to sense something is off. He's never had any trouble getting Lyla Carrity to put out. So few do. He waggles the rose at her, kind of just imploring her to take it now, lest more people snicker. "Tym Rivers? No. Was mostly occupied with my brother Jaremy and the Naylands at the Tower." His smile eases into a more moderate expression, and his green eyes narrow. "Why do you ask?"
Lyla takes the damned flower, uttering an uncomfortable, "Thanks." She shifts another look to Edie, this one more meaningful. The other girl nods, and Lyla plonks a few more full mugs on the bar, snaps up coins in return from those wishing to claim them, then looks back to Jarod with those pretty eyes of hers. "Come on," she says, gesturing her rose toward the stairs.
Jarod follows eagerly, muttering to himself so low he probably thinks she can't hear him over the tavern noise, "Finally." He juts out a hand to pinch her backside, while he's following. "This is more like it."
She leads him upstairs, does Lyla, squirming a little as he pinches her posterior. The room is fairly standard, nothing flash, just a bed and barely enough room for two to stand in between it and the window through which the sun pours in from outside. Lyla waits for Jarod to enter behind her, but she doesn't close the door.
"I forgot how…easy you are," Jarod says gleefully as he's led upstairs. He doesn't seem to notice the open door. And he says that to her as if it were some sort of high compliment. "Easy to be with, I mean. You and me are so easy, Miss Lyla Carrity." That questionably romantic dedication done, he does try to take her in his arms and kiss her soundly. Open door or no. At least he doesn't immediately take his pants off, which a closed door has prompted before.
Lyla arches her well-groomed brows, not quite convinced she should be taking that compliment of his gracefully. She is easy, though, and as Jarod reaches for her, Lyla indulges him in a long and comfortable kiss, her familiar hands cupping his cheeks gently as the two of their mouths collide. Surely he won't find amything remiss, at least not until she breaks away, a pained frown twisting her fine features. "Jarod, I -"
The breaking away puzzles Jarod. And re-arouses his suspicion. He eyes her, narrowly again. "…what?" It's asked rather flatly.
"I just can't," Lyla apologizes, drawing her hands back to herself, one wiping guiltily over her lips as though to remove the remnants of his kiss. "I can't do this anymore," she explains, vague as the seven hells, her eyes hung upon his.
For a moment, Jarod just kind of stares at her. His puzzled expression turning into a frown. He looks less hurt and confused than kind of pissed off. Arms cross along his chest. "Can't do what anymore?"
"I'm moving to Stonebridge," Lyla announces in reply, settling her arms into a defensive mirror of his across her chest. "I'm gonna make a go of things with Tym. I think it's best, you know?" Even as she speaks such insensitivities, her voice is silky and inviting.
Jarod blinks. And blinks again. Just kind of absorbing that. It does not quite translate right in his brain. He has to reprocess it a few times. "You're moving to…you're making a…Tym Rivers…WHAT?"
Lyla's first response is to frown some more, and ask, "Well, what did you expect?" She taps her foot testily on the ground, weight shifting lopsided. And then her expression softens a little as she looks on Jarod's handsome and familiar face. "I thought you'd found some girl, you know? You seemed real happy. You deserve to be real happy, Jarod. You're a good man, but I don't wanna be… you know. The in-betweener. I think me and Tym could be for real."
"A good man?" Jarod repeats it, and some veins in his fore head become visible. "I'm a good man? Well then! Lucky fucking me!" His arms uncross so he can use them to gesture broadly. "I guess I should just be happy you've decided to drop me to go tramp off to Stonebridge to crawl into bed with that drunk of a Frey Rivers who'll still be a journeyman smith when he's one and forty! Real? Are you fucking joking? Have you lost your mind?"
"Don't swear at me!" Lyla protests, shrinking back from Jarod's outburst. "The last time you came in, you were with that brother of yours and you barely even looked at me, Jarod. It's always like that… are you gonna tell me now that there won't be some other girl in a week's time? There will. There always is."
"I…that was…I was…trying something," Jarod non-explains rather lamely. "It's done now. Didn't work. Not going to try again. This works for me! Lyla, c'mon, we're so easy, and you know it." This is his compelling argument.
Lyla fixes Jarod with a pitiful look, almost convinced by his softer non-explanation. She even surges forward a step, her head tilting to the side, lips begging to be kissed. "I know," she agrees, sadly. "But I need to do this. Not for you, Jarod. For me. I wanna try something."
"Oh for fuck's sake don't start on me about this as some kind of godsdamned dream!" Jarod says, so not kissing her. "You know what I think, Lyla Carrity? I don't think you're after anything 'real' with Tym Rivers. I just think you're kind of a slut. That's what I think. You're a slut, Lyla Carrity." He manages to sound quite self-righteous about that for a man who is…well. A slut.
For a long moment, Lyla just looks stricken. Did he just… why yes, yes he did. One hand finds her hip defiantly, and time seems to slow as the other winds up to deliver a cracking slap against Jarod slutty Rivers' cheek. "How /dare/ you," she seethes. "Like you can talk, you stupid man-whore. Tym'll treat me right, just you wait and see."
"Ow!" Jarod's definitely been hit harder than that - both physically and emotionally - but it takes him by complete surprise. Even if perhaps it shouldn't. "Women! Seven hells! You're all insane! All right! Go then! Enjoy your Not Me Rivers. Just…go. And when you're back in the Roost in six months I won't even say I told you so!" He is less than gracious in parting.
"You'll be too busy trying to slip your tiny cock in," delivers Lyla for her parting shot, shaking her stinging hand and glaring past Jarod out the door in a 'you're-free-to-leave-now' kind of way. Her shoulders sag.
"It is not tiny! And I never heard you complaining before." That is the note Jarod Rivers leaves on. Stomping off in a huff.