Before the party is over

It wasn't that Danta was hard to find, really. It was that almost everyone else was, well, easier to run into on accident. The only one that Tal had so far deliberately sought out, in fact, was the Theocrat himself - even if it meant delving into the seedy underbelly of the Grounds and sticking his nose into the Dusklight.

Which, thanks to his experience at Mother Molly's, was slightly less intimidating than it would have been a season ago, at least?

He'd brushed his hair and tied it back as neatly as it ever managed to be and had even changed into a clean shirt for the occasion, looking more respectable than he usually did though that was a low bar to clear. And most importantly, he'd left his dragon back at his skyboat and stowed a few things in his Bag of Holding that he thought might come in handy with his fellow Will o Wisp hunter.

"Hey, where can I find Danta?" he asked, sliding up to the bar with a great deal more ease than he looked around the couches draped in various displays of flesh and temptation. The courier had quite a bit of familiarity with bars at least, and added almost as a subconscious afterthought: "Vodka, neat. Uh, actually, make it a double."

As one did.

Dantalion

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Had Danta known that Tal liked to refer to his base of operations as a seedy underbelly, he'd have been hard pressed to decide whether he appreciated the comment or was offended by it. Regardless, as the courier enters the Dusklight, its rich decor, deep colours and perpetual twilight will hopefully not upset the man's sensibilities, let alone what might be happening in the shadows. Or who might be happening.

The barman gives Tal a look as he orders, but it's not because of his choice of alcohol - no, that is delivered with ease. It's the first part of his query that causes mild confusion, and the worker points directly over the Messenger's shoulder, as if he might have forgotten his eyes on the way into the establishment.

There, on one of the tables towards the back wall, sits the Maverick, stripped to the waist and drizzled with what first might appear to be blood. Based on the fact that the young woman licking it off his chest is not a fellow Ancient, though, it's probably some other flavour.

Dantalion

The courier took his drink and turned to follow the pointing finger of the barman, which led his eyes right into some of those shadows he had managed to avoid on the way in.

Oh.

Ooooooh.

Yeah, okay. He could do this.

Tal knocked the shot back with concerning ease, exhaling a steadying breath through his mouth. Then he slid the glass back with a nod for a refill. The second double went down just as smooth, and with that he abandoned the bar and made his way towards the table where Danta was. Um.

On the menu?

"So... this is. Uh. A nice place y'got," the courier greeted weakly, trying not to be distracted by the young woman's progress and only partially succeeding. "How's it goin', Danta?" Smoooooth.

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Danta, who has been rather busy watching the young woman's progress himself, has threaded his fingers though her dark mane of hair, only just as she descends towards his belly and hips, a voice appears. Hazed with probably the equivalent of Tal's double double, not to mention that most of the blood in his body is not circulating around his thinking head, it takes the Maverick a couple of seconds to realise he's being addressed, let alone what is being said.

"...Do you want to join in, or...?" As segues go, Danta has heard a lot smoother ones, because obviously the courier has sidled up with a hope of getting in on the action. That's the only reason to interrupt someone clearly about to get, at minimum, a blowjob, right? Right?

For her part, the woman has at least halted in her travels, so to speak, gazing up at Tal with doe eyes that, for all their sweetness, still manage to seem impatient.

Dantalion

"..."

So, as it turned out, for just about the first time in his life a double double was insufficient for the task at hand.

"Y'know what? I'm, uh... I'm good, actually. I'll just... wait at th'bar," Tal decided, his gaze starting to dip down Danta's body and then slowly dragging back up. The courier licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Just, uh... yeah. When y'get a few minutes... was hopin' t'chat... Things..." He glanced at the woman and ducked his head, feeling the back of his neck and ears about to ignore. "...'m sorry, for interruptin', miss," he mumbled before backing away.

His boot heel caught on a thick, soft rug and he almost went back on his ass in the middle of the floor. A stumbling hop saved him, but it did nothing for the flush that spread like wildfire below the collar of his crisp, clean shirt or up into his shaggy hairline.

"Screwdriver on th'rocks," he mumbled to the bartender once he'd regained his safe space. "Light on th'rocks." At least it would give him something to sit there and nurse for however long Danta needed for his, uh. Afternoon... delight?

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"...Right."

Danta watches with a puzzled expression on his face as the other man interrupts, then promptly backtracks, but you know what? With the brunette standing between his thighs, he's quickly distracted again. And thus Talyson will go to wait at the bar.

However in his cups he decides to be by the time the Maverick does appear is entirely up to the courier, but suffice to say he'll easily be nursing a second screwdriver at minimum. Danta does come to the bar eventually, though, a midnight blue shirt now buttoned (wrongly) most of the way, and he taps on the counter with bejewelled fingers to ask for something sweet and ice cold and alcoholic.

"Mm, you wanted something?" he asks, belatedly remembering Tal's face from however long ago. "I assume, anyway?"

Dantalion

Sooo this was awkward. It wasn't like Tal wasn't used to having the wind taken out of his sails, but the state he'd found Danta in had really done a number on the courier's confidence with how to proceed. His attempt to bolster it with some vitamin C didn't seem to help, and he also didn't find the answer at the bottom of the first screwdriver. After some soul-searching and a wince at realizing what Alys would think, he'd asked for the bartender to go light on the vodka for his second. More of just a spritz, really.

Talking to another region's leader while blitzed was, uh. Not probably his best idea, even if it had worked out okay with Sunjata.

Though maybe that was because it had been a totally different conversation?

Anyways, back to the action!

The man of the hour finally ambled over and Tal chewed his lip, at a loss for how to start. His usual tactic of ask bluntly and without warning hadn't been working so well for him, truth be told, so maybe the situation called for some finesse?

"Uh, yeah. Well... y'know. Hadn't seen you in awhile an' figured I'd drop in. See how you were doin'. How's th'shrine t'Dygra we set up in th'Temple workin' out?"

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Drop-ins are always welcome," Danta purrs, assuming that Tal might want to engage in some afternoon delights with the many boys and girls of the Dusklight, until he continues to chat directly to the Maverick. Maybe the courier wants to see if he is on offer instead? Accepting his drink and taking a generous sip of it before considering a response, he rolls a shoulder in a shrug and sidles down onto the bar stool.

"Thriving, all things considered. The Grounds is doing well." In his not-so-humble opinion, anyway. "That work in the Temple wasn't a shrine though - not a real one, anyway." He takes another drink and then sets the glass down. "More like an homage, I guess. I've been thinking of making another, though. The Black Lake is pretty dangerous to get to for some."

Dantalion

The Grounds did seem to be doing pretty well for itself compared to where it was a year ago, and Tal nodded a little tipsily. "Yeah, I'm makin' a lot more delivery runs to an' from here'n I used to," he agreed. Which, for a courier, was pretty much the gold standard for a successful region.

His nose scrunched up in confusion at the correction to the Temple not-actually-a-shrine, though, until Danta explained its real purpose. Which... sure, aesthetics were important too, Tal guessed. Interior decorating wasn't really his forte, but he could carry things and put them down four inches to the left, or else hang pictures under adult supervision as needed. He took another sip of spicy orange juice as his brain chugged along with the new information and his expression smoothed out again.

"More shrines are def'nitely good." He gave a staunch nod, and the world only continued to bob for a couple of seconds after his head stopped. "Figure we need all th'help we can get against this void crap, y'know? So where were y'thinkin' o'puttin' th'new one?"

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Mm, I've noticed more activity at Jack Tar Landing, too," Danta says, and if it weren't for the hint of pride in his voice, one could probably surmise that he'd be bored talking shop at the bar. Luckily for Tal, he seems to have hit all the right notes so far (and to be fair, the post-orgasmic haze and the drink in Danta's hand is probably helping matters too).

As for the not-shrine and what the Messenger says next, Danta huffs out a sigh that blows a lock of fair hair off his forehead. "Maybe the Glade," he rumbles, walking his fingers lazily around the rim of his glass. "Or even here in The Last Whisper somewhere. Dygra is helping to keep the void creatures out of the Inner Quarter, so perhaps it'd be better to have an extra one here, should the worst happen."

Perhaps a job he can give to Astaroth, in retrospect.

Dantalion