Private Of Memories & Spice

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Quinn's brow furrowed at the remark of her screaming Mercy's name. Of course, it wouldn't be the first nor the last that she shouted the woman's name, but in this context, and what the Knave was hinting at was uncouth. How dare the woman even fathom those thoughts?

She chewed on her lip as she watched Mercy do Mercy things. The woman easily knocked back the ale, half of the pint nearly gone in one gulp past her near perfectly pouted lips. The alcohol hung on her upper lip, and Quinn found herself staring a little too hard at the bow that curved on her upper lip.

It seemed the delicate pout of the former princess's upper lip was the perfect place for the foam of the bear to collect. Quinn instinctively grabbed a napkin and leaned over. Her hand moved, unnecessarily graceful as she wiped the upper lip of her new boss. Her tongue clicked softly against the roof of her mouth as she finished and looked at Mercy for a moment.

"I understand we are in the underworld, but still, we have manners." There was a little smugness to it, mostly behind reminding Mercy slightly that at one point in their lives, they were cut from the same cloth.

"Better," she said, giving the fiery woman one last wipe. She then returned her to her seat and looked at the beer. She wasn't going to be as brash about drinking it like Mercy, but it seemed to be an item that you chugged and not savor.

Interesting.

Quinn wondered if this was what people did who weren't nobles or royalty — drinking was a form of entertainment. Exhaling, she almost went cross-eyed looking down her nose towards the alcohol.

"Okay, I just dive right in." Pausing, she looked up at Mercy and stuck just the tip of her tongue out.

"I'm not haughty, I was just confused." Shaking her head, Quinn grasped the pint glass and paused. The same napkin she wiped Mercy's lip with, she wiped the condensation from the glass. The last thing the poor girl needed was to drop her glass all over her.

Quinn left the glass and began to drink from it. She felt like she was drinking a blended-up vat of some of the worst bread possible. But people seemed to like it enough. She wondered if it was cheap, which is why the bar was packed with beer patrons.

Her eyes slowly looked towards Mercy's glass. The woman drank half, so she would have to drink more — to beat her and to show her who is really on top.

The halfway mark of the glass passed, and Quinn continued to chug until she couldn't anymore. The glass hit the table as she covered her mouth with the moist napkin. Quinn's cheeks puffed as she did her best to try to force the thick and slightly acidic liquid down her throat. Her body protested, her belly already felt full — but she did it.

Finally, when her mouth was empty, she wiped her lip and smugly looked at the Knave.

"I drink beer better than you do."

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

Mercy fought the urge not to bite Quinn's fingers when they strayed so close to her mouth, but she didn't want to give the woman the satisfaction of knowing she coaxed out the reaction.

Besides it would be more reward than punishment anyway.

"I know my manners, darling, I jus' don't want to employ them." She drawled lazily and then watched as Quinn just... drank... that whole glass. Her eyebrows rose up with every bit of the glass being emptied. "My oh my, someone was thirsty." Smirking a little but then inclining her head, the universal sign of yes, you won this round.

She finished her own glass and then poured them both another one.

"When was the last time we got smashed together? The time we raided your mother's liquor closet?"

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

"Quinn." The Princess hiccupped and covered her mouth. Mercy had a habit of calling her everything but her name. Though at least she didn't call her Noelle or Ibaris. That would be an insult in itself. She watched as the woman poured them another glass. Quinn adjusted herself in her seat and hiccupped again.

Maybe she drank a little too fast, but she wanted to beat Mercy.

"How do you not employ your manners?" She slid the beer closer to her as she examined it. There was less foam this time, and she wondered if it was because the pitcher was fuller. Or maybe she just stopped caring about the awkward foam head.

"I don't even know how you get dates if you can't behave." She offered a nonchalant shrug, the words were matter-of-fact.

She sipped the beer this time, not wanting to fill her stomach to capacity again. As the other woman brought up the past, the Princess smiled.

Thankfully, it was hidden behind the rim of the pint.

Quinn remembered that time; it wasn't the greatest time for her emotionally, but Mercy had done her best to be a friend. Drinking till she forgot was precisely what she needed.

That night, she remembered laughing for the first time again; she also remembered going to bed nearly in tears, not because of Vesta, but because of Mercy.

The pint found its place back on the table as she looked at the woman. She hated that, after all these years, she still found that stupid lopsided grin attractive.

"It's been a while. I remember throwing myself at you — and after all the taunting and teasing, you still turned me down." Her brow arched over the rim of her pint.

She had always wondered why, but she didn't dare ask.

 

[Mercy]

"I don't even know how you get dates if you can't behave."

"Who said I go on dates?" Mercy drawled lazily as she leaned back again, taking a deep gulp, but notably again not finishing the full glass. This round had gone to Quinn Varanin , she deserved her victory and Mercy wouldn't try and one-up her with it. "I am far too busy working, darling, causing general mayhem and carving my place into this sick Galaxy of ours."

Which was not to say that Mercy didn't get around.

Just that she wouldn't call that dating. Not when it was just there to scratch an itch and then move on again.

Mercy did not expect Quinn to go there. It raised her eyebrows as she watched the Princess. Sometimes Mercy forgot that there were several years between them. It was easy to forget, since Quinn was powerful in her own right and already accomplished much. It was only in these moments that Mercy got a reminder of it.

She shrugged to the question tucked away in that statement.

The answer... it might completely baffle Quinn, it might even make her angry, but Mercy said it regardless.

"You were drunk." She answered matter-of-factly. "And you were and are a friend." Or as close as a friend someone like Mercy could have, but that was too much vino veritas.

And the day after that Quinn had run off to the Sith Empire.

Only now Mercy started to connect the dots however. Her head tilted there as she began to realize that maybe Quinn didn't run off to the Academy to piss her mother off, or at least not entirely. Maybe, just maybe, her rejecting her had forced her on that path. Frowning Mercy glanced back on the beer to take a deeper swig.

Even the smallest things could create big waves.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn continued to sip the beer. She did her best not to look at Mercy when she answered her question. While it wasn't the answer she had expected, it was the one that she had hoped for.

Between the lines, it meant that despite how promiscuous the Knave was, the woman still saw value in her relationship with the Princess. Honorable, but she wouldn't tease Mercy about — not now.

"I appreciate it." Quinn finally said as she set the pint down. "For all of it," She paused and let her eyes wander for a moment, trying to think of something witty to say.

Nothing of value came to mind, and she let herself look at Mercy again. Wheels were turning in the woman's mind; she could almost hear them.

Slowly, Quinn realized the timing of everything. The answer was yes; she left because looking at Mercy after the rejection was too much. Even now, remembering it, she couldn't look at the woman.

Was it an embarrassment? Or something else? Quinn was never able to figure it out, but that was the past.

The reminder was enough to let her look at the woman. Another sip of the ale, she let the thick ale fill her as she finished half the glass and wiped her upper lip delicately. She wondered if she should press it; there were curiosities, but she didn't know if she was in the mood to hurt her own feelings again.

Screw it.

A soft chortle. A shake of her head. Her hair fell back perfectly into place, framing her face the way it always did — privilege had its perks.

Her eyes softened as she rested her head in her hand and looked to the Knave.

"So, my Herunín," Quinn leaned onto the table and let a devious, slight smirk curl at the corner of her lips.

"Does it ever cross your mind," her head tilted slightly, "What it would have been like?"