"Come on, man, you know I hate that place," Dresden said as he stood with his current partner on shift, a shorter but not unattractive man who generally wanted to experience the finer things in life despite being a bit too broke for them. "Last time we went you spent half a seasons earnin's because you insisted on buyin' drinks for the whole place...twice. You don't remember?"

"It won't be like that this time, Drake, promise. I just want a couple drinks, but the ale tastes better there," Thomas Collins said. Dresden rolled his eyes.

"Tastes the same as the shit at the Thirsty Wench, and costs less there too."

"Alright...look, I'll buy you two drinks, and then we'll walk to the Thirsty Wench for the rest!" He argued.

"Why do ya want me to go so bad, anyway?"

Collins gave him a flat look. "I don't know what it is 'bout you, Drake, but every time you're around, beautiful women show up. I'm tryna find a wife."

"At the Bronze Lion? You're gonna find the woman you'll be married to for the rest of your life...at the Bronze Lion?" He asked, throwing his hands up. "Fine, wouldn't miss that for the world." He snorted.

When their shift was up, the two walked the Loren streets until they reached the tavern. Dresden didn't pay much attention to the people already there. They found a table not far from the bar and ordered some ale. Dresden pulled the fastenings loose at the collar of his Legionnaire's jacket and ran a hand through his hair, taking a grateful drink from the mug before pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it with a match. "Alright, Collins, which ones your wife?" He asked.

"Give me a minute," he said, waving Dresden off. "I've gotta scope 'em -- out -- dammit, Drake, I told you, man!" He said, motioning to something by the bar. "There's a bunch of beautiful women over there, I swear it! If I'd showed up by myself they probably wouldn't be here."

"Great. Pick one and go ask 'er to dance."

"You think I should?"

"Yes, absolutely. I've seen you dance, you're much better at it than you are talkin'."

"Okay...okay, I'm gonna go!" He said with excitement, drinking a few big gulps from his mug and then standing up, walking past Dresden. The blonde was tired, but he was never too tired to watch someone make a fool of themselves. He turned to watch, and in doing so, caught sight of someone he knew.

As Collins approached one of the women Oriana was there with, Dresden stood up and walked around to lean on the bar next to the woman who had stood him up. He took a drink from his mug as their two friends began to chat. "My partner there," Dresden began. "Is goin' to ask your friend to dance. I hope she's a good lead, 'cause he's real terrible at it."

With enough drinks in their system, the gals were chatting. It was always a sight, and so it was only a matter of time before things devolved. It seemed she wasn't going to have to be the one of start something when a man approached the group. Her attention was captured, but the sight a familiar figure broke it slightly.

"Mr. Drake." Dipping her head she smiled wondering if she could get away with pretending they never had plans. Maybe he would just never bring it up. Some guys ego couldn't take the question of it all. She supposed only time would tell. And for now there was surely going to be more interesting things to talk about soon.

Looking at the man talking to Penelope, her eyes flicked around to all the other women's faces. Gertrude and Charlotte were giggling together, but Myrcella was, well clearly a little envious of the attention Dresden's friend was giving Penelope. It was going to be rather interesting, and Oriana smiled at the prospect. "She wouldn't know rhythm if she shook it's hand. But she'll laugh right along." Sliding close she nodded her head slightly at Myrcella. "I think he's got another admirer if it doesn't work out though."

"Ms. Oriana," he said, tipping his head to her as she greeted him. He took a puff of his cigarette, turned his head away from her, and blew the smoke in the opposite direction. The last person he'd expected to see sitting in The Bronze Lion was Oriana, but the look on her face as her friend was approached by his was not the look of a friend within the group. More like a spectator. He recognized the look because he often took it upon himself. To what extent she was spectating, he couldn't be sure. But she was waiting for something interesting to happen, and that interesting thing appeared to be Thomas Collins.

"Well then, that'll be a dance worth watchin'," he replied, resting his cigarette in the hand furthest away from her so the lingering smoke wouldn't be floating around her head. His other hand pulled his mug to his lips once more for a short sip. As Oriana drew in closer, though, he pushed the mug aside so it wouldn't be in the way. He got the faintest whiff of whatever scent she was wearing, and it was lovely.

His eyes, however, followed the nod of her head and lingered on the friend she spoke of. All Dresden could do is laugh. "Funny thing is, he brought me with 'em 'cause he claimed I'm the one who attracts all the women. We just got here and he's talkin' one up and got a backup." He looked down at her, a grin. "Meanwhile, I spend all my time waitin' 'round in taverns for women that ain't gonna show. Ain't that wild?" He looked up away from her as soon as he said it, watching Thomas Collins lead Penelope over to the open area of the floor. "Oh, there they go. Time for the show."

With the aid of the bard playing music in the background, the two began to dance. The song was a bit slower, so it wasn't exciting, but it was bad. They were clearly stepping all over each others feet and trying to awkwardly laugh it off. They couldn't seem to decide on where to put their hands - his stiffly just under her arms, hers awkwardly around his neck. "Welp, that's 'bout as painful to watch as I thought it would be," Dresden said, shaking his head and chuckling at the sight.

Personally Oriana didn't smoke, although she didn't much care if it wafted into or around her face. The taste was never to her fancy, and cigars were a reminder of her father she didn't much have a need for. But it seemed as though Dresden planned to be a gentleman, another hope to get out of the whole, not showing up thing. "Certainly, just hope no one gets hurt."

While she was watching the pair she nodded along to what Dresden was saying, although paused and dipped her head at his less than subtle hint. Looking at the soldier she sighed. "I do apologize for that, work kept me late and by the time I looked up it was almost morning again." A slight exaggeration for both their benefits, but she was a woman with a job and didn't always have time for flights of fancy.

As the pair started, Oriana resumed her attention on them. And it was certainly a sight to behold, one brimming with opportunity that she had no plans to slack on. "They could be worse somehow I suppose, it's almost adorably bad." Laughing she then focused on their rhythm, specifically the foot stepping. Would be a shame if...

Oops, when Collins foot landed Penelope would have an excruciating pain in her foot.

What harm could there be in dancing? He smirked. "If nothin' else, Collins'll walk outta here with hurt pride, I'm guessin'." These were women out to have fun. It was doubtful any of them would be searching for a husband. Taverns weren't the kind of place that women generally looked for a good partner because men rarely presented themselves in their best light while drinking. No, Collins was clearly no smart man, but Dresden hadn't had anything else planned for the night and in the end, he'd run into Oriana again, so all in all it turned out pretty good.

He smiled at her through her apology, eventually shaking his head and taking another drink from his mug, which finished it. He caught the barkeep eye and tapped the rim of his mug to request a refill. The keep acknowledged him, and Dresden turned blue eyes back to Oriana. "No reason to apologize, Ms. Oriana. I'm givin' ya a hard time, but it's my fault entirely. A lady has no obligation to a man she's just met, or any man for that matter, 'sides her husband I reckon. Even then, depends on the man." As the barkeep finally came over to fill his mug, Dresden nodded his thanks and handed over the coin for it.

Over the rim of his mug he continued to watch the dancers, eyes only removed from them temporarily to look at Oriana when she spoke. "Adorably bad?" He lifted a brow. "If you say so. Just kinda makes me sad. A nice close dance with a lady ain't all that hard. I'm not lettin' Collins live this down." But it seemed that Dresden wouldn't have to be the one to do that, the poor man could do it all on his own. He brought his work boot down once again onto the dainty foot of the smaller woman he danced with, and as he did, she all but collapsed to the floor. Collins held onto her, already apologizing profusely. Dresden nearly choked on the drink of ale he'd just taken.

"I'll be damned," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He took a quick drag of his cigarette and tossed it onto the floor, mushing it under his boot and setting his ale down on the bar. He walked over to the two as Collins put Penelope's arm around his neck, and Dresden took the other, helping her back over to her friends as she hopped to avoid putting any pressure on her foot.

"I'll help her home," Collins said, clearly feeling guilty. "It's -- it's my fault."

"That ain't proper," Dresden reminded him. "You can't take the lady home by yourself. Better one of her friends flag down a carriage for her and escort her."

Oriana nodded in agreement. "Mhmm, picking one woman out of a group of them can have some interesting ripples. I've heard envy can be a powerful beast." Something she had seen many a time. Dresses that people coveted, those who killed her family because they were better than the vermin to set them ablaze, and the gossip between women was enough to prove her point alone. And that would be quite the entertainment for the evening.

Whether Dresden said the whole thing was fine for her sake or his, the seamstress didn't much care. Any man who couldn't get over himself wasn't worth keeping around. And maybe there would be something else that made Dresden less than ideal company, but for now he was much better company than the gaggle of gals.

"A close dance sounds-" But she wouldn't have time to finish the thought, impeccable timing in her opinion. Almost as if she had picked the exact moment things would go from bad to worse. But she couldn't smile at her own work, a hand over her mouth that had opened in shock.

Watching as things unfolded, Oriana rejoined the girls to look at Penelope with pity. Whispers of poor thing, and what a shame echoed amongst the group. Myrcella certainly seemed incredibly glad now that she hadn't been asked to dance by the big-boot-buffoon.

With a small smile, Oriana looked between the men and Penelope. "You two can carry her along, I'll accompany and help her to rest." Certainly wasn't going to drag the girl back herself, the men were perfectly capable clearly. And things were only going to get boring after they left anyways.

The thought that she might have been open to a dance surprised him a little, though he would have been happy to oblige if his partner hadn't just then broken her friends foot. His tongue moved over his teeth in irritation. Lately his luck had been pretty lackluster at best but this was beginning to feel intentional. If there was ever some kind of higher power pulling the strings, he was really having a fun time pissing Dresden off.

Once he and Collins had gotten back to the group, Dresden though for sure that flagging down a wagon or carriage and sending the hurt woman off would have been simple enough. Instead, Oriana suggested they help her home themselves. Another strike for Dresden. He should never have agreed to come out with Collins.

"Yes ma'am, we can do that," he said in response to Oriana. Both Collins and Penelope were much shorter than him, which left him hunched over as he helped his partner carry her. He would've rather just tossed the woman over his shoulder, but he guessed that wouldn't have been very appropriate, either. As they walked out of the tavern, the awkward silence between the woman and his partner was unbearable. It was obvious how Dresden and Thomas knew each other - they were still in their uniforms. "So how do you two know each other, ladies?"

It was quite a sight, Mr. Drake crouched over and Penelope hobbling with her soldier man that the seamstress had already forgotten the name of. Boring chap it seemed, and one that was more dangerous than he was worth. Partially her fault there, but no one needed to know that.

"Splendid, it's not like any of us just have carriages laying around so it is truly a service. Thank you both." Leading the way, Oriana knew where Penelope lived. They all did, women walking alone these days was a rarity, although Oriana wasn't exactly concerned. But for appearances sakes, since they all lived generally close in an affordable area of Loren, she had paired up a few times.

Penelope groaned in response to Mr. Drakes question which Oriana took to mean she would be doing all the talking. "We all work in close by stores. Walk each other home these days with everything but wanted a fun night out. Clearly not another one anytime soon." At least for poor Penelope.

"Ah, I see," Dresden replied somewhat somberly, as clearly even the simplest of questions was going to lead back to what had only just happened. He looked across the groaning woman at his partner, who could not have been more apologetic and confused.

"I'm real sorry," he said again. "I just don't know how this happened. I mean, I'm obviously no great dancer but I've never injured anyone before," he said. "I'll--I'll make it up to ya Miss Penelope, really," he sputtered, looking like he was on the verge of tears at seeing the woman cry. Dresden rolled his eyes.

"Pull it together, will ya, Collins? Now's hardly the time," Dresden said as nicely as he could manage, considering this whole night had been his partners idea and he could very well have been home, in bed. When they finally arrived at the woman's residence and came to the door, Dresden returned his attention to his partner. "Why don't ya go find a doctor to call on for the lady, Collins? Least ya can do, yeah?" The last thing he wanted to deal with was Collins helping her into the place and wanting to stay and make sure she was okay.

"But--"

"I got it -- 'scuse me, Miss Penelope," he squatted down and lifted the woman up in a bridal carry. "Go on, now, Collins," he spoke to his fellow soldier like he was a child, and the man finally relented, nodding and turning from the remaining trio to do as Dresden had said. Dresden, with Penelope in his arms, turned back to Oriana. "Lead the way, miss Oriana," he said, motioning through the door.

Penelope yelped at Dresden picked her up, as despite the warning it was a tad bit startling and her foot wasn't in the best way so movement wasn't great. A tear rolled down her cheek which Oriana thought was more than a tad bit dramatic. As was this whole, get the doctor thing, with plans on fixing the break going out the window now. Poor Penelope would just have to deal with a broken foot, not her fault.

"Pass me your key darling." Extending her hand to the wounded woman, the seamstress hoped to be done fast with all of this. It was all a little much and not exactly what she planned, well really she hadn't planned, which seemed to be slowly adding up to a problem.

Clicking the lock open and stepping through Oriana became very glad for her place. Nothing huge but better than the cramped apartment that they had stepped into. All one room and barely room for the bed that sat nestled in the corner. "Over there then." Gesturing at the bed the seamstress moved to turn on the kettle for some hot water. "Thank you Mister Drake, would you be so kind as to start a fire?" The fireplace was small but it would at least warm things up and heat up the kettle.

As they entered the small room, Dresden walked over to the bed and rested the woman down on it. "My apologies for the roughness, ma'am, I ain't no doctor for a reason." He said as he turned, glancing around before Oriana asked him to start up the fire. He nodded, and walked over to the small fireplace and squatted down to get it started. "Sure, least I can do."

Tossing in some of the logs propped on the side, he arranged them carefully and lit them up. Within a couple of minutes they were catching fire and heat emanated from the fireplace. It wouldn't take long to heat the small apartment, and once it got going, he stood up and stretched his back. "Well ladies," he began, a quick shrug of his shoulder. "Doctor ought to be on the way soon and wouldn't be too appropriate for me to stick 'round, so I reckon I'll be off. Uhh, hope everything turns out alright for ya, ma'am," he tipped his head to Penelope, then turned his eyes to Oriana. "Ms. Oriana," he nodded his head once in goodbye, and then made his way out of the apartment.

He paused outside of a few minutes, pinching the bridge of his nose and lighting up a cigarette to puff on. "Night went to shit real quick," he commented to himself. Oh well. The women were out of the way and he didn't have to play the role of the helpful Legionnaire now, so he headed back toward the tavern.