Completed [The Herald's Arms] A Lesson In Love (Matthew & Razkar)

[Edreina]

The Herald's Arms 34th day of Summer, 513 AV 21st Bell It was one of those nights where business on the first floor was absolutely lack-luster. Men came in the door and automatically ran for the third floor. Well, more sauntered than ran but it left Edreina mindlessly polishing the bar until it shone. "Hey Reina?" The red-haired woman turned to see her boss walking in from the kitchen. "You can go ahead and take off for the night. I've got it under control, here." She nodded her assent, but did not entirely feel like leaving just yet. The music that filtered down from the upper floor was languid and the lack of people on this floor meant that the air was relatively free of a smoky haze. As she walked out from behind the bar, a half-loaf of bread and slab of cheese was handed to her with a kind smile from her boss. "Mind if I relax here for a bit?" Edreina asked over her shoulder, already making her way over to one of the couches. "Not at all, darlin. Hell. A pretty girl on this floor might convince some to stay down here long enough to at least buy a drink or two." He winked and went back into the kitchen, to tend a dinner that no one was likely to eat. Smiling to herself, Edreina took up position against one of the couch arms, feet pulled up onto the couch so that only her bare-feet peeped out from beneath the folds of her violet skirt, boots clattering angrily to the wooden floor. As she began to pick at the loaf and nibble thoughtfully at the cheese, Navis raced across the floor and leapt up into her lap. He began to whimper and nose at her hands until she finally gave him some scraps of both. Sprawled ever so gracefully across the sofa, Edreina could have easily passed for one of the comfort girls with her soft curves and gentle face. The only thing missing was any trace of carefully applied makeup or skillfully coiffed hair. Instead, her sloppy braid of burnished hair and bare face quickly gave away her status as a common working girl. Without the ruckus of dozens clamoring for a woman's attention or a refill or another plate of food, the Arms took on a more peaceful, more sultry look. Humming along with the sporadic notes that managed to make their way down, Edreina absentmindedly stroked a now-dozing Navis. Her meal had been abandoned half-way through and set upon the table that separated this couch from the one across from it. A few strangers dotted the tables and chairs and sofas filling the first floor, but they all seemed more intent upon waiting for company than doing anything truly interesting. If nothing interesting happens within the next ten chimes, she thought to herself, might as well head on back to the grotto.

[Razkar]

All things considered, Razkar was covering his embarrassment quite well.

The Herald's Arms - and what is so memorable about them, he'd wondered after staring at the sign above the door - was not his typical place of relaxation. Too... soft, in many ways. He was used to rough company: warriors, brawlers, sellswords, bottom-feeders and other twilight types. But this was where Edreina worked and now his day was one and his wandering became aimless...

You're just checking out where she works out of curiosity, he told himself, striding through the door and noting the surroundings. Well... it is much more here, I suppose...

It was hardly the pleasure palaces old, where the gods of carnality themselves crafted whole planes of decadence, but it certainly cultivated the right atmosphere. Perfumed air caressed the Myrian's nostrils; incense smoldering in lizard-mouthed sculptures cleared the rest of the air and an attractive but tasteful hostess bowed as he entered.

It took Razkar a moment to respond to it. Still so odd, having a female show much politeness to him.

"Good afternoon, Myrian." A voice as smooth and soft as fine silk... it made her seem like an extension of the room, as if she owned it. "I must say, we don't often get your people in such places."

"We don't have... ah... pleasure house, back home. Not many." Don't look around frantically! You're not doing anything wrong! "Er, my friend, she works here. Edreina? I was just-"

"You are Razkar?"

The Myrian warrior who had slaughtered enemies for half his life, humans, Akalaks, Dhani, Yukmen and others, finally cracked and studied his toes, poking out the ends of his sandals, feet shuffling. Not the kind of recognition he was hoping for...

"Um... yes."

"Ah... we have heard much around you." An elegant shrug followed her words. "You know how men talk."

"I am male, so yes, I know."

"I believe Edri is tending the bar. Will there be... anything else...?"

It would never fail to astound her that even the hardiest of soldiers, even this one before her, with his grisly cloak of trophies, skin carved with ink and scars, half-naked and decked with weapons, became little boys in front of their mothers when anything sexual was mentioned to overtly. By women.

"Ah, no, but, ah... my thanks."

"Enjoy yourself."

Razkar moved away as fast as he could without rudely running and stepped through the curtain into the bar area. A bartender a world away (and a wanted poster) from Gene Duval smiled at him in a surprised but oddly pleased sort of way that Razkar was getting used to. The Myrian soon found his friend, shock of red hair flowing over her shoulders as she lounged... and the why of that was clear moments later.

The bar was practically empty, only a few customers clustered in small groups, playing cards of staring into their drinks. A few cast him a glance and muttered among themselves, but most just stayed quiet, stayed to their own business, whatever that was.

A growling, low and slightly shrill but insistent and warning. Razkar glowered at the softly-vibrating ball of fur in Edreina's lap and bared his teeth by way of greeting. Blue eyes turned up to his and, naturally, the first thing they saw was filed teeth snarling at her beloved pet.

Smooth start, male...

[Matthew]

The tables trembled with just the slightest shiver, and most everybody in the room glanced down instinctively. It felt like the actual ground was shaking, if only just a hair. Was it an earthquake of some sort? A few bewildered glances were tossed around, hands hesitantly holding their mugs and instruments a bit tighter. Any sort of disturbance like this always put people on edge, especially after the recent storms that had attacked the face of Mizahar. The slow rumble continued, the lack of power causing a few people to breath sighs of relief. The puzzle was still there though, but was soon solved by a loud cleared throat and a pointed nod from the bartender. All eyes turned to the stairwell, curious to see what it had to do with the rumbling.

Two Isur females stepped down the stairs, just a bit taller than the standard for their race, but every bit as ripped and rugged. They looked calm and distant, though the smallest of smiles were on the corners of their lips. It was incredibly odd to see the cold and quiet Children of the Mountains here in Syliras, and even more odd to see two of them in a brothel. They were barely dressed, sweat shining on their veined brows, and the flex of their immense muscles making it plain that they had just been given a work out. With each step, the ground shivered just a tad, solving the mystery of where the tiny earthquake had come from. It was these two bulky Isur women, all muscle and weight, with their stone-like right arms gracefully swinging by their sides. Quiet and regal, they passed through the Herald, taking the time to both bump Razkar as if trying to prove a point. They moved on, and were gone in a mere matter of moments. Now a few people had smiles twitching at the corners of their lips (or horrified frowns), waiting for the inevitable to come down the stairs.

Part of the job, Matthew. No matter if they had hammered him as mercilessly as if he had been laid across Izurdin's anvil.

They hadn't been given a work-out. They had gave a work-out.

He stepped down the staircase, somehow managing to keep an aura of grace about him, even while his legs were about to collapse. His thick hair was matted wetly to his forehead, and his shirt was torn wide open, revealing a few bruises on toned and sweaty skin. Even his black trousers had holes in them, as if the Isurians had stripped him with their right arm while taking him with their left. He somehow moved smoothly and slowly, though his tired blue eyes and slightly shaky knees betrayed his lack of strength. Only the slight clench of his jaw betrayed his professional exterior, showing that he was trying to hold back memories of what had just happened. Matthew, the scholar from Zeltiva. Edreina might have heard of him. The one who was so very quiet and studious during his breaks, reading books about the oddest of sexual things, all the while seemingly distant and apathetic. Then, the one who could change in the blink of an eye, to a sultry seductive man of the Arm. He was an odd duck, who didn't seem to care about his charms or looks outside of locked doors.

He gave her a passing glance and a polite nod, as well as Razkur. The completely out of place Myrian was the second thing to ruffle Matthew, who's eyes widened just the slightest bit as he passed, the nod and smile completely forgotten. He stared for just a bit too long as he walked by, lips parting slightly as his jaw slacked, the scent of his perfume whiffing by. It smelled like the ocean, something that he felt masked and blended with the salty smell of sweat. He forcefully turned his head, mentally commanding his eyes to drag in a different direction. He had just successfully made it to the bar before he suddenly paused, turning his head slowly back around, fixing his deep blue stare on the girl. He seemed to completely miss the Myrian now, looking right by him. Nibbling his lower lip, he examined her, remembering that he had seen a flash of red working earlier. Turning to trade some words with the barkeep, he was rewarded with a small strip of dried meat. Then, he turned, his step a bit more lively as he made his way towards Edreina. Once again, Razkar might have well have not existed, Matthew gracefully flowing past him.

"Excuse me." His words were polite, soft, slightly out of breath. He squeezed himself into the little bit of space she had left when she had sprawled out, not touching her at all. His blue eyes sparkled, so very expressive up close. He could barely contain his excitement, now that he was up close. His once-steady gaze was now dancing a bit, this playful spark behind them. His body was ever so noble where it sat, but his eyes were a clear window to his soul.

"I have never met someone with red hair."

The words burst out suddenly, filled with the enthusiasm of a small child. He was trying to pay her a genuine compliment, and felt that his words couldn't quite describe how delighted he was. He was dearly hoping she wouldn't mind. Holding out the piece of beef, he quickly spoke again. "I brought a treat for your small and fuzzy animal." He continued to hold it out, moving on, words spilling out over words. "It is gorgeous. Do you have to use any sort of cream in it? Does it feel any different? I wish I would have had red hair." He ran his hand through his own hair (obviously well-kept hair), giving a frustrated sigh. "But I was blessed with dark hair. How boring. I am Matthew, it is a pleasure." He was about to offer a handshake, but then paused, groaning. In perhaps the most erotic way a man could stretch, he did it, seemingly with natural ease. His arms flexed back and his body rippled, head arching as he groaned out with a less-than-normal sound. A series of pops and cracks exploded from his body, and he continued to stretch out his body, completely unaware that he was practically putting on a show for one of the customers across the floor.

Settling down and giving a small frown in apology, he returned to his straighten stance. He offered a handshake and a polite smile, completely forgetting that his last two clients had been Isurian Blacksmiths who had made him their latest crafting project. "I apologize. I think something was twisted the wrong way."

Razkar had been completely forgotten. While normally the harlot would be unable to keep his eyes pulled away from the foreign and terrifying warrior, he had found something else. So entranced was Matthew, that the entire world had completely faded away, all except for the fire-red mane.

[Edreina]

It was not that Razkar was sneaky, quite the opposite really with all that clanking metal, it was just that Edreina had been distracted by a missed stitch on the tapestry hanging across from her. So, when a high, warning growl suddenly ripped from Navis's throat, she started slightly, eyes flicking upwards in search of the source of her companion's discomfort. It took less than a tick for her eyes to land upon Razkar's filed teeth, bared now as he snarled back at the minuscule creature. Classy... Rolling her eyes at the obvious testosterone duel going on between the two, Edreina could not help smile as well. When could she ever help smiling? "Nice to see you, Raz," she laughed, shaking her head and stroking the kit between the shoulderblades until he finally settled back down. Will these two ever get along? A man passed by, but Edreina paid him little attention. Seeing her rough and rugged friend in the mellow environment that was the Arms was odd. Very odd. What was he doing here away? "What brings you to the Arms? I'm assuming you don't want... company." Her lips curled playfully at the last word, knowing fully that the promised man would not seek such carnal pleasures in any female other than his own. Despite how she wished otherw- Anyway. And suddenly, their twosome became a threesome as another man threaded his way into their company, alighting upon the end of the couch Edreina had claimed. Unable to do anything else, Edreina took in the - albeit pleasant - sight before her. His sparkling blue eyes and regal posture were intriguing to the redhead. Though they did not contain the dancing liquid of Svefran eyes, his crystalline gaze was comfortingly familiar. Unable to help herself, Edreina grinned at the stranger. "I have never met someone with red hair. I brought a treat for your small and fuzzy animal. It is gorgeous. Do you have to use any sort of cream in it? Does it feel any different? I wish I would have had red hair. But I was blessed with dark hair. How boring. I am Matthew, it is a pleasure." The words came out in an all-to-familiar tumble as this stranger rushed through what he wanted to say. She often found herself bumbling through speech when she was excited, but this man seemed to be able to rush while keeping his enunciation flawless. Nonetheless, Edreina felt a pleased flush dance across her cheekbones. Immediately, he also managed to get himself into Navis's good books by offering the bottomless pit a scrap of food. The fox kit quickly went from gazing warily at the Myrian to appraising the new two-leg. Just as she was about to answer his questions, the new guy began to move in a way that any mature woman could definitely appreciate. With his tattered attire, Edreina was definitely able to appreciate his well toned figure. Her skin flushed a pleasant pink and she was unable to keep her teeth from catching hold of her lower lip. Dark lashes even made a descent as she gazed openly with hooded eyes. And then suddenly, he was sitting down before her again and her hand flicked up nervously to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "Oh, don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us." She shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant as she pulled her long, limber legs closer to herself to allow him more room on the couch. "Name's Edreina Whitewave," she shook the man's hand, abruptly self-conscious of the callouses that adorned her well-used, long-fingered hands. That had never happened before, actually. In most cases, her callouses were a sense of pride, a sign that she had worked hard all of her life. But when compared to this posh and refined fellow, Edreina felt a touch uncivilized. Speaking of which... Edreina guiltily glanced up at Razkar, blushing even more furiously than before. Sheesh. She was probably putting her own hair to shame at this point. "Won't you sit, Raz?" It was a belated offer, surely, but an offer nonetheless. Gods, how did this stranger manage to get her so far off kilter so quickly?

[Razkar]

The rat might have a point...

Razkar would have dearly liked to growl at the newcomer, with his smooth features, coiffed hair and rippling musculature. Not that the Myrian was lacking anything in the chiseled abs department, but his fitness was... different. It was physical, functional and carved from years of both combat and training. This human, however...

He just looked good, and seemed to do it so well.

The human - Matthew, Razkar was quick to learn - introduced himself, or started to, and then...

"... what the petch...?"

Harsh, guttural Myrian bubbled from between Razkar's lips as Matthew briefly imitated a contortionist, on the verge of asking if he was all... no... suddenly black eyes narrowed and flickered to Edreina, whose cheeks had reddened by several degrees. Once again the teeth were bared.

Might have some competition, here... wait, since when did you care? You're spoken for, remember?

Oh. Yes. Of course...

"Won't you sit, Raz?"

He'd known her long enough to recognize the signs: her words coming out a little more disjointed, her fingers fumbling with themselves and her blush, gods... no way you could hide that. Razkar slid next to her, deliberately resting an elbow next to her head on the back of the couch, if not his entire arm.

Black coals like eclipsed suns stared up at this "Matthew", followed by a smile that was mostly teeth.

"Raz-kar, to you, male." He didn't wait for a response, suspecting it would be some condescending barbarian drivel, and instead turned to his friend. The anti-smile reversed and some warmth flared in his eyes. "You not at work? Because night is slow, yes?"

He wasn't going away. The shadow still loomed, and Razkar girded himself for a battle he knew was coming, but in a style of war he had never learned, and this slick, smooth and smirking human seemed born for...

[Matthew]

The handshake was firmly returned, but his eyes never once moved from their target. The hair just was so red. He was so incredibly jealous. He didn't think it would do him any good in his profession (though red-haired women seemed to make some extra Mizas), but for some reason, he just wanted it. He rarely cared about style and fashion beyond what he considered to be required for any harlot of a man, but red hair was something he just thought was beautiful on anything and anyone. He was having to actually struggle to keep his free hand from reaching up to touch it. His eyes flicked down to her face, her speckles, and then glanced over her body and then back to her hair. It seemed to fit her. Her gorgeous eyes were an amazing contrast. He had the eyes, just not the hair, petch it all. In the back of he mind, he faintly realized that his wide-eyed fascination might be creepy... but he quickly discarded the notion, not wanting common sense to pull him back down to earth.

Ah, but then, there was the barbarian. The skull-adorned monster finally spoke, loomed close enough to become a big muscled shadow, and soon became competition for Matthew's attentions. The sparkling eyes turned to the Myrian, and instantly widened a bit larger. He was surprisingly able to keep his composure, with that straight posture and professional expression... but the brief flicker of fear in his eyes was evident. Everything about the man screamed violence, murder, massacre, and whatever else that men of his sort might do. Matthew took a deep breath, steeling himself, remembering that it was a possible customer here in the Arms. "It is a pleasure, Raz-kar." He put the emphasis on the last half, pronouncing it as if that was the way it was actually supposed to be said. The implified threat went completely un-noticed, though that may have been because he was already feeling threatened enough. It wasn't as if he was scared for his own life, or anything like that. That notion hadn't quite crossed his mind yet. Instead, he was more just... scared. Unsettled by the tattooed warrior in front of him. He briefly wondered if the Myrian had ever tore a throat out with those teeth.

Were those bones in his nose?

The smile then turned nice, but it wasn't aimed at him. Confusion flicked at his brain, curious if he had done anything to upset Razkar. He politely waited for him and the girl to finish their greeting, then tried to insert himself into the conversation once more, finding it best that he be on the good side of Razkar and his multiple violent tattoo's.

"Your body is a stunning canvas, Raz-kar. Did you do the markings yourself? What do they mean? Or is it a private painting?" He phrased the question with his words just as well-pronounced and soft as before. It was a genuine compliment. If common sense didn't dictate that it wasn't a good idea to compliment another man on his amazing body, he would have thrown that in there as well. His was defined to be attractive, not naturally rugged like the warrior. Trying his best to find a common ground with the Myrian, he hooked his torn silk britches with his thumb, tugging one of the hips down just an inch or so. Again, he naturally turned it just a bit more erotic than it should be, fingertips slowly carving down the golden skin with the practiced ease of a strip that was meant to entice. His body once again arched, the combined muscle rippling as if it was meant to show off with every little movement. One of the defined V's displayed itself, a single bead of sweat chasing the crevice, the gold belt of Yahal very clearly tattooed onto the flesh. The symbol of purity on a harlot, hm? He was unaware that he was once again showing off, inadvertently competing with the man without even trying. His blue eyes flickered over to Edreina, silently (desperately) asking if he was doing the right thing to get along with her looming friend. He would eventually work his way to a handshake, but for some reason, he was dreading that step.

[Edreina]

In her sitting up to make room for Matthew to be more comfortable, she had opened up the other side of the couch. As Razkar sat, Edreina found herself trapped between the two. He rested an elbow on the back of the couch, obviously trying to cram his bulk into the small space that had been left. Again Edreina readjusted out of consideration for others, sitting up straight and letting her feet touch the warm, wooden floor, hands folding thoughtfully in her lap. When her friend questioned the fact that she was not working, she twiddled with the end of her braid as she answered. "Yes... Very slow, and very boring." But, not anymore, it seemed. As the blue-eyed man quickly turned the line of conversation to Razkar, Edreina rolled Navis onto his back and began to rub his belly in a way that made him wriggle happily with his black legs. And then the innocent moment was ruined as Edreina looked over to see Matthew tugging at his clothing. Oddly enough, Edreina found herself wondering whether or not Matthew was aware of his actions, and, if so, whether they were aimed at her or Razkar. Either way, Edreina needed to get away before her inability to maintain composure for even an instant caused her to make a fool of herself. Standing quickly, and setting a disgruntled Navis back in her place, Edreina grinned and went into "Bar-Maiden-Mode". Her blue eyes danced as she placed one hand on her hip, thumb caressing the tail end of her tattoo. "Can I get y'all anything? Food? Drink?" She leaned in close and whispered with a conspiratorial wink, "Don't worry, it's on the house." This persona was not the grinning, vivacious, carefree woman that could be seen bounding into the Suvan without a moment's thought. Instead, her smile was more intimate, each gesture a bit slower as her blue eyes danced playfully. Whatever their choices, Edreina would not and quickly saunter over to the kitchen, making use of her long legs to elongate each step so that her hips swayed merrily. It was only once she entered the kitchen that she considered leaving the two men alone together might not have been the best idea. Though, her naive mind could not entirely fathom why that might be, so the thought was quickly tossed aside.

[Razkar]

A hidden dagger. A lunging elbow or headbutt. The shifting of that taut body to a better attack position... these were all things Razkar could have dealt with from the dark-haired human.

But a compliment and an honest-sounding question?

Er...

For a long moment the Myrian just frowned at Matthew. He'd heard of fighters using ords to throw their enemies off, a sentence like "Have you seen the pink Tskanna?" to shut down the brain for a moment before... no... no, he wasn't moving. His blue eyes were guileless, darker and more mysterious that Edreina's wide-eyed orbs of innocence, and Razkar opened his mouth-

-only to glance down at the flash of gold that was nearly camouflaged over the tanned, flawless skin at the human's pelvis. A belt? Some mark of the barbarian gods? He looked back up, frowning with a question on his lips-

-and saw the flickering look Matthew gave her, eyes softening for a moment in something a few steps from panic but definitely not completely comfortable.

Razkar chuckled inwardly, then wondered why. Had some great victory been gained? No. The human was afraid. Of course he was: Razkar was frightening. But instilling fear was not his objective here; it was to keep this bastard's paws of his Ed-

Yours?! When was she yours?! Goddess, male, stop acting like these barbarians expect you to!

"Some are times from my past." He pointed out the tiger on his forearm, roaring up from his scarred flesh at a simplified image of himself and another female. "Here? Tiger I hunt with... friend."

A telling flicker of his eyes to Edreina, then back, jaw tightening, guilt rising off him like steam before he got it back together.

"And here?" He pulled his cloak to one side, revealing his chest, criss-crossed with scars and gnarled, mashed flesh that had healed badly. A series of runes and Myrian runes - looking more like knife slashes to the human, fittingly enough - were in rings covering one shoulder. "Prayer to Goddess-Queen. In the center is words of Taloba Army: 'Victory Requires Sacrifice'."

Well, that wasn't so difficult. But he still felt so... unsophisticated. He clenched his jaw again and composed himself. This was just what the barbarians wanted, after all: seduce Razkar with this soft, plush comfort and decadence and make him feel like some hairy beast.

"Why do-"

Then in a whirl Edreina was up on her feet, turning to her with red hair trailing behind her like a soft, fluttering cloud, rings of it shimmering around her shoulders before it settled. Razkar drank in her words and... really drank them in. Her manner was so... un-Edri.

It was just... intense. It was the only word he could use to describe it. Almost like she was accentuating all those assets - verbal and physical - that made her so attractive, both males suddenly focused intently on her and Razkar barely managed to stammer out, "A-Ale, please."

'Y'all'? She never says that. What does that even mean? Some barbarian dialect, most likely...

Then she was away, hips swinging in a way that made Razkar unconsciously cross his legs and frown even deeper, wondering how... was it some persona she put on for work, perhaps? Surely she wasn't-

His blood froze as his mind threw up the possibility that her job here was... selling... more than booze.

Razkar's head snapped around like a raptor's and field Matthew in a narrow, merciless gaze. Oh, he'd been watching, too, but he sort of expected that. What male wouldn't be, after all? This little battle they were having, he had no idea how to fight it. Beating him to a pulp would be cathartic, true, but not practical nor... enlightened.

And you'd get her fired, remember?

Finally the Myrian just sighed through his nose and relaxed back in the couch, head resting on the back of it as he looked up to the ceiling. He reached up absently and adjusted the leather harness across his chest. The kukri over his left pectoral was chafing again, and the lakans hidden at his back were always digging into his spine.

"You are..." He spoke carefully, pronouncing his words as if they were of utmost importance, and to someone with the right ears, there was a tinge of envy to them. "... very good at talk. To female. She like how you talk."

Razkar's head lolled to one side and he gave a lopsided smile with his mouth closed, this time. His teeth had already done their job with the human, and the glare he'd given him had answered the silent question Razkar was sure the human had stumbled across.

Yes. I have. And not just throats.

[Matthew]

The rough words leaked out of the barbarian's lips, and Matthew tugged his eyes back to the sculpted body, following the tattoo's with his eyes. He was slightly awed by the scars, but did his best not to linger for too long, making sure that his jaw stayed closed. He could never imagine hunting a tiger. The Myrian moved further down his body, revealing even more scars, Matthew's jaw disobeying him and dropping just a tad bit. He quickly got it together, his eyes once again being the only real thing that swirled with shock and awe. The next tattoo was the real one to catch his attention, and for a moment, his blue eyes narrowed, sharpening and darkening with some unknown series of thoughts. His voice politely came out, slightly edgier than the words before it. "Victory requires sacrifice... what wise advice." Razkar's next words were interrupted, the girl swirling to life in a flurry of fire. He smiled up at her question, nodding thankfully.

"Water. With lemon. Two pieces of ice." He widened the smile of thanks at the girl, turning back to Razkar, before pausing and slowly glancing back at Edreina. "Actually, water will do just fine." He seemed to realize his request had been a tad uppity, and was trying to compensate for it. As she swung her hips away in a slow walk, he gave a quick nod of appreciation, noting that she moved her hips with ease. His eyes studied her gait, and he mentally marked a small note to work on his hip movement as well. The natural sway didn't come as easily to him, as he had found that men used their hips a lot more directly than women. He would have to work on the walk a little more. After staring for a few more moments with that studious look on his face (staring at her hips and rear no less), he glanced at the ceiling to mull over some things. Chewing his lip, he mumbled under his breath, words thoughtful. "She would make a good pr-" His breath caught in his throat, painfully aware of the Myrian beside of him, subconsciously edging just a hair further away from him. "...-barkeep. She would make an excellent barkeep. I wonder if she would teach me how to move my hips like that in between serving meals and drinks." The words were not at all hidden, perhaps even heard by Edreina herself.

For some reason, the more he talked, the more he felt endangered by Razkar's very presence. He briefly wondered if in the grand Scheme of things, he was going to have to deal with someone like this Razkar. How in the world would he do that?

Awkward silence settled over the pair, and he timidly extended his fingertips toward the small and furry animal, gingerly extending them just enough so they were in range for the animal to sniff. Or nip. The Myrian speaking first caught him off guard, and he rose an eyebrow, returning his attention to the man. After hearing the statement, he glanced back in the direction 'female' had went, running a hand through his hair again.

"Does she? She should." It almost sounded arrogant, but he spoke it with so much... truth behind it. Like it was fact. "I have practiced what I believe most female desires usually appreciate. Though, I am not that good yet. Every woman has different tastes, and I haven't found out how to cater to each of those tastes. But, I tried to get down the basics. The subtle ones. The lightest nip of my lower lip, the breathiest of sighs when I am tired, the most sensual of stares when I am interested. It isn't just the words, or the talk. It is more instinctual. More primal." He tried his best to explain, noting the touch of envy, and banking on that to help him make a connection. "For instance... your sword." Was it a sword? It was shaped oddly. "When a warrior fights, there isn't just swinging. There is grace, a feeling of danger in the air, all little subtle things that add to the fight and complete the fighter as a whole." He was bad at teaching. His mother was much better.

"For instance, your eyes. Black as they are, they can tell a story. Have you ever tried talking through them? Threatening someone with just a stare?" Matthew turned his body, facing the man, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. After a few moments of silence, his body tensed, relaxed, and then he changed.

Blue eyes smoldered, insinuating things that Razkar had likely never had a man insinuate. They held his gaze, burning with something dark and wild. His body added to the look, muscles rippling lightly, as if promising the man that his own fit body would have something to compete with. A small smirk lit Matthew's lips, and his mouth curled in a small snarl, adding violence to the erotic oaths his eyes were making. Razkar had perhaps seen the look on another woman. Matthew was imitating it quite well, his eyes like an open window into unspoken fantasies. His body flexed again, a silent signal of dominance, and to the Myrian no less. "Hello, Raz-kar." The words dripped with everything his eyes screamed, a simple greeting turned horribly... wrong.

And like a candle, it was snuffed, and Matthew perturbingly turned right back to the quiet and professional man of before. "Does that help make sense? You should try it when she comes back. You two are close friends, right?" He was clueless about true feelings and intimacy, many long nights in a stranger's bed having dulled those particular senses.

[Edreina]

Despite the fact that neither of them requested food, she felt obligated to provide it. Matthew had obviously just had a bit of a workout and Razkar had probably not eaten today. So, while in the kitchen, Edreina took a loaf of bread, halved it, and put it on a platter with some gravy. As a last thought, she grabbed a lemon wedge; ice was not really something the Arms carried. Darting behind the bar, Edreina retrieved a tall glass for Matthew and two mugs for she and Razkar. Her own mug she only filled half-way, not incredibly interested in losing her wits tonight. With a plate resting upon each arm, the glass in one hand and the handles of both mugs in the other, Edreina made use of her natural ability to walk without disturbing her upper body as she wove her way back to the couch. Who would have thought that years of walking on rocking decks would make Edreina a fine waitress. Setting things down was the hardest part, but Edreina managed it with only a slight sloshing of the gravy upon the table. Grinning apologetically, she slipped back into her natural demeanor as easily as a snake would shed an itching skin. Instead of sitting between the two men once more, Edreina took up a lounging position upon the couch. From here, she could easily view both men - and what a fine sight that was - and carry on a conversation with either. While his master had been gone, Navis had taken an automatic liking to this new two leg, licking his offered fingers before standing up and rubbing his chin against them with his odd half-whimper-half-purr sound. But, upon Edreina's arrival, Navis immediately abandoned the fellow and ran for the comfort of Edreina's skirt. Grinning brightly, and slightly self-consciously, Edreina felt obligated to explain her earlier actions. "While I may not sell myself," she winked at Matthew over the brim of her mug as she paused to take a quick drink, "A man is more likely to drop more Mizas on ale when he is trying to impress the beautiful barmaid." Blue eyes rolled as Edreina remembered the times that the comfort girls had fawned over her hair and her bone structure, calling her ridiculous things like "regal" and "a natural beauty". Bah. Her fingers absentmindedly plucked at the end of her braid as she mulled over the odd compliments, teeth capturing her lower lip thoughtfully. Because of her fussing, the yellow bandanna with which she bound her hair suddenly contained no more than a score of locks. With a mild groan, she took out the bandanna and allowed her hair to tumble free of the braid entirely. Realizing that she had once more become lost to the world, she looked up quickly and smiled apologetically at the two men. "Sorry, I was just... thinking."