Ever Is A Long Time

Title: Ever Is A Long Time
Time Period: October, 134 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

Summary: And can seem insulting in certain situations.

The early autumn afternoons in the streets of Dornie still feature carts and stands of people trading their wares in places like this. Even as the days grow cooler, there's people who offer their goods for other goods. There's a soft buzz of noise in the busiest areas, with negotiations and bartering for items.

Many people are local, but some are from the ships that still sail. And then there's a young man in a worn brown leather coat that stands in front of a stand with jewelry.

Cas Blackburn is new enough that most people don't know him on sight. Hair mused from recent washing, a sweet scent of soaps lingers near him. One would never imagine he works with horses most the time. When he isn't having one of his days off. A holiday, one might almost call it. At least when he's dressed up like this, he looks like he can afford the things he's looking at.

Whether he can or not. Once paying starts, they'll probably change their mind about him. Gently picking up a silver bracelet, he turns it over and frowns at it, before putting it back down and repeating the same actions with the next five. The trader running the booth watches him out of the corner of his eye, but he's preoccupied with someone he knows better. For the moment.

Goneril Ross, as it happens, is also shopping for jewelry. Not for herself, but for her daughter. Though she won't be the one surprising the girl with something bright and shiny, her husband will, and she's comfortable with not getting the credit.

There's grime in the beds of her nails as she inspects a small ruby hanging from a delicate silver chain. By all accounts, she looks like she's the one who'll have trouble paying, dressed as she is in her work clothes which smell faintly of the oil she works with, and smudged with grease here and there. But Goneril's face is one known by people who make it their business to know who's influential in Dornie. And even by the majority of people who don't. She need not be dressed well to be recognised. Her gaze lifts to regard Cas briefly while the proprietor turns from her to see if he has something else she might like in his wares.

Putting down yet another piece of jewelry, Cas frowns visibly down at the whole cart worth of items and out of the corner of his eyes notices a woman in work clothes. The clothes don't really gain much more than a look, one that doesn't recognize her as anything other than exactly what he's looking for.

A woman. With an opinion.

"Excuse me, my lady," he says in an overly polite way with his oddly toned accent from the north of England. "Can I ask an opinion on something— as a woman." He looks up at the trader who he'll have to negotiate with later, but he had dismissed asking him for advice. "Which one of these says… 'thanks, you're wonderful' but not… saying something like… that could be taken as… you know…" He waves his hands about in an expressive style before finally offering. "'I'm only giving you this cause I want to shag you.'"

Not entirely unused to being addressed as my lady, Goneril lifts her head and her brows when Cas begins to solicit her opinion. By the time he finishes his query, she's more than amused. She's received several of those sorts of gifts. The sort that say I want to shag you, but she's never accepted them. And they've never been from her husband. "Well… Are you only giving it to her because you want to shag her? Or did she do something nice for you, but you don't want to shag her, ever?"

"Ever— like ever ever?" Cas asks with a slightly elevated brow. Despite the fact this conversation should be quite embarassing, he's handling it well enough. Or at least only his ears are turning pinkish. "I don't know about ever, ever. I mean she's— quite attractive and all. And I fancy women, but I'm not after that sort of thing right now— She really did do nice by me. I feel like… I don't know. I should do something for her, too. Women like gifts, right?"

Asking if he considered simply owing the girl a favour in front of the trader would be bad form. "That changes the sort of message you want to send, then." Goneril lifts a heavy silver bracelet from the table in front of her. It's simple, with circular shapes pounded into the metal for adornment, rather than encrusted with jewels. "This should do it. It's something she can wear with almost anything, and she'll think of you when she sees it." One corner of her mouth tugs upward, "And when you do decide you'd like to shag her, she'll remember how sweet you were."

Hands suddenly go up in a kind of innocent gesture, the paisley design of his sleeves dropping a little before getting caught on the cuff of the rough leather coat he wears. If she looks closely, Cas happens to have callouses of work, but even the well off have to work for it, as she knows. "I don't know if I ever will, I'm just saying ever is a long time. I think it'd almost be insulting for the lady if I said I wouldn't ever want to shag her. I mean she'd have to have like… boils or something."

For a moment his mouth stays open, as if he's surprised he said that much, but then he reaches out to take the choice. Simple, yet nice. And potentially meaningful.

"Well, she could be your sister's best friend. Or your brother's wife." Goneril shrugs. This doesn't stop everyone, but it does some. "That's the one you want," she affirms, nodding to the bracelet. "I'm sure she'll love it, Mister… ah…?"

"Well, yeah, there is that," the young man responds with a thoughtful nod, though for a moment it seems he might have thought of counter arguments to that. At least he doesn't follow through with them. From the way his eyes wander away, he's thinking of them, though. "Oh— yes. Sorry. Cas Blackburn, my lady," he responds, shifting the bracelet into one hand and holding out his other. For a change he doesn't have to make sure it's clean. He still smells mostly of the soaps of his good smelling bath this morning.

Goneril, on the other hand, takes the moment to check her palm and make sure it's clean, then wipes it on her jeans for good measure before she takes his hand. "Goneril Ross," she offers in return. She shakes hands like someone whose first impressions rely on a good handshake, suggesting she isn't just a laborer. Of course, if he recognises her surname, he should know she isn't just a laborer. "Anyway, she'll be pleased, Mister Blackburn. I'm sure of it."

It's very likely Ross perks something in the back of his mind, but Cas doesn't change his expression beyond a 'that sounds familiar'. His grip is strong and a lopsided smile appears, flashing teeth that are more white than not— and the front teeth also stick out a bit, too. "Goneril— don't think I've ever heard that name before. It's unique, I like it!" His accent only helps scream how not from here he happens to be.

When he extracts his hand, he moves to dig around in an interior pocket sewn into his jacket to pull out…

Stamped leather strips, given in exchange for labour. The Rowntree name and signs of stable are visible on them. Two of them are held toward the merchant. "Is this enough to cover it, aye?"

The leather catches Goneril's attention. "You work for Edmund," she observes. "Small world." She lifts up another necklace, with golden leaves hanging from a leather cord. "I'll have this one. Should make us even for the repairs last month?" Turning to Cas, she grins. "It's for my daughter. I'm not looking to shag anybody today either."

"Just started a month ago," Cas explains with a grin, handing over the payment. That seems to cover it, and he puts the bracelet away into the same interior pocket that he got the payment out of. "Daughter, huh… I'm sure your daughter will love it," is what he offers after a moment. "It's very— uh…" he makes hand gestures as he tries to find the words. "Nature— ee." His eyes shift to the side. No that's not the right word.

"Thank you for the help, Lady Ross." The gratitude is genuine. For a moment he looks as if he considers saying something else, but shakes his head. "Maybe I'll see you around, if you know my boss."

Goneril refrains from any mischief in this case. She also refrains from being entirely forthcoming, like explaining why it is she feels comfortable using his boss' given name. "You are most welcome, Mister Blackburn. Good luck to you. I hope your friend enjoys her gift. If she doesn't, I'm sure she'll be suitably embarrassed if you tell her I thought she would." She thinks a little much of herself at times, it's true. "Hopefully our paths will cross again soon. Until then."

"Probably. Since I intend to keep my job as long as possible," Cas says while gesturing with both arms. The man seems to be as expressive with his body as he is with his face and his peculiar accent. As he starts to move away, he seems to have a second thought and turns to face her again. "For the record, since I was talking about insulting and everything. You're not entirely unshaggable. Not that I will be trying to do anything like that, just— you know." He gestures again, up and down. "No boils."

On that he turns and continues to walk away, a hand going up to his head. It very much looks like he's pressing his palm against his forehead.

A breath of incredulously laughter escapes Goneril's lips and a hand rises to her mouth to contain the rest. Oh, she is so telling her husband this story at the dinner table tonight.