Nadine tapped her fingers idly on the table, taking a swig of her third ale. She wondered idly if the barkeeper was watering the stuff down, the bitter kick losing its touch at a much faster rate than typical. While the officer did not need to be drunk out of her mind tonight, a bit of a buzz to relax after a day of yelling at cadets would be nice.

Better yet, Aldrich Abbott was supposed to join her after his shift. She'd saved his favored table, something about a corner seat always appealing to military types. An awareness and protection habit, she imagined. He had to work late tonight, typically did of late with so many of the higher-ups shipped out. She couldn't help a smile as she rubbed the ring he had given her at the Ver festival so shortly ago. The whole marriage thing still did not quite feel real...maybe soon she could be a fancy, prissy noblewoman with their dresses and their jewelry and their little dogs. At least, on her days off from the military that was. She still rather enjoyed the thrill of combat, if they'd ever actually get her off of baby-sitting duty and back into the field.

Nadine looked up as a woman approached and leaned on a chair. The witch only narrowed her eyes for a moment: it had been half an hour, and who was to say Aldrich would be free to stop by tonight at all? She might not see him till bed tonight. And drinking alone sucked.

"All yours," the woman cocked her head. "Do I know you from somewhere? You in uniform?"

Rhedara wasn’t what anyone would call a “tavern fly,” but that day seemed a good day to patron one. It wasn’t that she’d had a hard day, but even introverts needed to socialize once in a while.

It would have been far cheaper to brave one of her landlady’s special brews which Rhedara thought would have been better to light fires with rather than to drink, but being alone was not appealing that night. If @raff were around, she would have tried to see if he were free, but he was in Cambria. Tavern it was. It just so happened to be the tavern that they’d met in. She couldn’t help but glance over to where she’d first seen Raff. She didn’t expect to see him there even as a young, romantic thought, but the memory of that night made her smile.

She went to the barkeep and ordered an ale. The barkeep—she had no idea what his name was—squinted at her funny, his eyes darting from her face to something behind the bar counter, and Rhedara thought, rather obsessively, that maybe she’d messed up her plait and didn’t notice? But then he asked for her name—she assumed for her tab—and she gave it to him. His mumbled reply to her had her blinking.

“Pardon?” she barely noticed the drink as the barkeep shoved it in her hands.

”I said yer covered as much as ya like,” the barkeep said a little clearer than before, ”@raff told me that if a girl that looked like ya with yer name came in that anything ya want is covered on his tab.” ((Thanks JustCoffee for confirming this!))

“Oh,” she didn’t know what to say to that. It was sweet of him to do that, and…very attractive in a way. She’d never been told that she was automatically on someone else’s tab. He didn’t have to do that…especially since she knew he didn’t have the most money in the world. She’d have to talk to him about it when he was back, but for now, she’d not fight it. Free booze was free booze, and it was a gift from her beau that she wasn’t about to spit on, “Good to know,” was all she said—a happy little smile playing at the edges of her mouth—before turning away from the bar. It was time to find a seat.

Rhedara scanned the crowded room for any place to sit. There wasn’t a lot of choices. There was a table with one free seat…but there were some greasy-looking men sitting there already. She’d probably be able to take care of herself, but why take the risk when she didn’t have to? She turned her head to the opposite side of the room and she spotted a table that had some free seats.

There was one woman already sitting there—she did not recognize her—and another one standing near another chair. That one she knew, and Rhedara tried not to groan or just turn around and leave. The last time she’d interacted with Lassiter, the woman had been chewing her up one side and down the other for cursing her superior officer. Regan had been at Othello’s failed party, but she’d left before she could interact with her or not. It was tempting to just turn around and leave…but that would be cowardly. And cowardly was not what Rhedara was. Impulsive, yes, but she’d own up to her own mistakes. She had the day Lassiter yelled at her, after all. Besides…it would be good practice to keep her temper contained depending what happened.

After a deep breath, she approached the table, “Mind if I join you?” she was pleased that the question came out on the cheery side, not showing her apprehension at sharing a table with someone that had made it on her list of people that she did not like.

Practice. That’s what it was. Practice.

Evanthe was what someone would call a tavern fly. Less so now than when she was in her early 20s, but she wasn’t shy about indulging—especially in ver which was a difficult time of year for her. She’d actually already been out drinking already that night. That very day was an anniversary that she wanted to forget, and booze was the best way to do it. She wasn’t drunk yet, but she had a very pleasant buzz. She’d probably already be drunk if she hadn’t eaten. That’d been stupid of her. Ah well. If she threw up, at least there’d be something other than liquid to toss up.

So when she came into the tavern, she did not sway as if booze had gotten the better of her, she still was able to walk as if she were sober, even if the room swam a little when she turned her head too fast.

She ordered a bottle of whiskey from the bar—she intended to get wasted and didn’t want to waste time going back and forth to get more. She slapped some coins on the counter and turned toward the room to find a seat. There were some nice options…some greasy men that looked too poor to take for a ride…some people playing poker—no fun—ah! She saw a table with three women: one sitting, and two standing. Regan she recognized—who wouldn’t know the huntsman? The woman sitting, she’d seen, but goddess was she bad with names. It was something with an “N.” Nancy? Naomi? Natalie? Her last name was “Muppet,” she was sure of it. The third she did not know, though she seemed to be the youngest of the bunch.

Approaching the table, she just sat down, “You ladies are the least greasy people here. Hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she said more to be polite before pouring herself a shot and knocking it back.

"More the merrier, 'specially when it's witches," Nadine took a swig, leaning back in the chair to prop her boots up on the table. "'specially when it's witches in uniform...no 'ffence, o'course," the officer dipped a head to Rhedara.

She was pretty sure the woman had been a soldier who quit or was let go for some reason or another...then again, many of the cadets all blended together. Blessedly so with a few drinks. Nadine didn't need to remember most of their names anyway: it made it easier when they died. Then they were just "that guy with the stutter", "the lass with the bowl cut". The named ones stuck with her longer. She'd enough ghosts haunting her to need any more on her back.

"Curran, this may be the perfect plan o' the Goddess herself. I've been meanin' to get your thoughts on some ah...unofficial type discipline, if you catch my drift," Nadine pursed her lips with a bit of a smile. "Harmless, of course...just a cadet who needs to be taught some humility s'all. Nothing some minor magic won't fix...purely for trainin' purposes."

@berengar needed to be reminded of his place in the pecking order after his win in their little dual. A minor curse, something to harm only his ego should do the trick. Nadine wasn't so good at curses, nor the whole creativity thing, so she hoped one of her fellow witches might be able to help her out.

Nadine paused as the scarred woman mentioned she was the King's Huntsman. She'd heard about Regan Lassiter, but had never had the chance to put a name to the face. She'd heard rumors that the woman was as effective as a whole regiment, just by herself. While Nadine always knew war stories were exaggerated, she also knew they were earned. Lassiter must have impressed at least His Majesty to be appointed his Huntsman.

"I've wanted to see your work firsthand for a while, Lassiter," Nadine raised her mug, motioning to the bartender to get the Huntsman another round. "You've got quite the collection o' fans among my troop. Officer Machenet...er, suppose soon Officer Albott. You ever need backup in the field, just pull me out of station...I hate all this sitting around and babysitting the cadets."

She didn’t remember her! Rhedara realized it with no small amount of salt. Maybe it was better that way—she had no desire to be chewed out by the huntsman again. Still, her curse on her superior had made its rounds, and Regan Lassiter was the one that had literally growled at her. It’d startled Rhedara enough at the time that she still remembered the animal-like growl as if the huntsman had snarled at her only moments ago.

The woman who arrived soon after her (Evanthe Curran ) sat down like permission was a given. She did not know this woman, but Rhedara assumed that the four of them were about to get to know each other really well in the next few minutes. Booze could do that.

To Lassiter’s question, Rhedara would answer, “Rhedara Shannon. I’m an assistant for…” her paramour had warned her about letting people know who she worked for, but her official job for the noble really was no secret, “…Keelan Morrigan . I mostly fetch booze, take notes, and make appointments,” she shrugged as if it were boring work, “Not the most interesting work, but it keeps food on the table.”

It was more than a little upsetting that @nadine was asking about the best curse for @berengar …not that she was against cursing people, she’d developed a bad habit of it recently. But she couldn’t help but think that Officer Machenet was still in when she blatantly spoke about cursing people and Rhedara had gotten kicked out over trumped up charges. It was enough to make her want to curse the officer in a fit of petty vengeance. That she was in a relationship with her favorite superior was just icing.

Deep breaths. She promised herself that she’d do better. She’d slipped when she cursed Stormcrest, but progress didn’t happen without errors.

Instead of cursing Officer Machinet like she wanted to, Rhedara only mumbled, “No offense taken,” before she drank from her own glass.

Evanthe would be the first to declare herself a wild child. There’d been a time when she’d considered hardly anything off limits, but even she had areas where she didn’t go. Her personal life could have been taken more seriously, but her professional life…well, she was a stickler. Had to be on some level if you were in the paired program. Even through her light buzz, she did, in fact catch @nadine ’s drift.

“That would be an abuse of power, Officer Muppet,” Evanthe would take another shot. It wasn’t that she’d never cursed someone in retribution—she was cursing key members of her family on a weekly basis, after all—but she’d never punish someone under her that way unless it were a witch that had gone power happy so they’d get a little taste of darkness, “If he’s being too big for his britches, give him pointless work to do,” before the changes she would have suggested chores, but those on staff duty now performed those tasks, “Who’s bugging you so bad you want to curse him?”

To Regan Lassiter ’s question, Evanthe would wait for the little witch to answer. She knew the name ‘Morrigan.’ It was one of the most prestigious families in Nevermere. But she didn’t focus on the name of the girl’s employer, but rather the girl’s own name. Wasn’t Rhedara the name of @raff ’s girl? She was normally bad with names, but she remembered the girl’s name because of how weird it was. Well, it was nice to put a face to a name. Whenever the scruffy bonehead came back into town, she’d have to tease him about his young little sweetheart.

“Officer Evanthe Curran, paired witch—or I was. My partner’s out of commission.”

"Nobody can take a joke anymore," Nadine sighed, drinking another draught of mead with an eyeroll. She was a bit upset none of the women even considered having a bit of fun. Maybe she could try again after they'd had a bit more booze, and this whole thought of "proper discipline" was out of their heads. She didn't bother correcting the other officer on her name: it'd be changing soon anyway. "Just some cadet who needs to learn his place."

Regan's coughing drew her attention, Nadine giving her a good few slaps on the back. "You good huntsman? Don't let a few whiskeys take ya."

It hadn’t sounded like much of a joke to Rhedara, but some people had odd senses of humor. Like she was pretty sure her boss enjoyed making her feel unsettled…of course that could be a thing the nobles from the important families did. It was difficult to say as her boss was the first noble of a great house that she’d truly interacted with.

Still, it didn’t change that she felt a bit disgruntled about the whole thing, even if talking about how to curse someone would have been fun. She was hardly going to do that in front of the huntsman who’d already yelled at her for doing that and another superior officer—although she supposed she didn’t have to worry about what those kinds of superiors thought about much anymore, did she?

Regan’s coughing interrupted her salty pontificating. She hadn’t exactly been watching her as the women were speaking, but she wondered at the woman’s expression. There seemed to Rhedara to be a touch more than the red flush that appeared when someone swallowed their drink down the cough pipe instead of the imbibing pipe.

Rhedara didn’t have anything to say just yet (ah introverts!). She’d just watch Regan over her glass to see if she’d stop coughing. When Regan finally did, Rhedara would think to ask, “You alright?”

If Evanthe were sober or on the clock, she might have raised an eyebrow at Muppet’s brush off that her request for cursing advice was a joke. But she wasn’t sober and she wasn’t on the clock, so she just shrugged. At that moment, it wasn’t her problem.

“Mmm yeah cadets’ll try and put on boots they haven’t grown into yet do they?” Evanthe poured herself another shot, “It’ll pass…maybe. Maybe not,” asserting your dominance was hardly unheard of as far as the rank and file went. It was important to know who was above you and who was below you. Knowing who you did and did not report to was all blah blah blah she needed to drink and not think about work.

She knocked back the shot and slapped the glass down again when Regan started coughing.

“S’ok,” she slurred, “She just needs more booze. That’ll cure it,” Evanthe grabbed her bottle and would try to top off Regan’s cup with whiskey.