Used Up

Title: Used Up
Time Period: January 4, 135 A.E.
Characters Appearing:

Summary: The question of honor comes up in a whorehouse.

Leaving is always the difficult part of these visits, especially the last few, though Cas Blackburn hasn't admited it outloud. The fact that it tends to take a while says it for him. The sun is already starting to set on the early winter sky, casting heavy shadows and threatening with an even darker night and even more cold. The look outside the windows doesn't help him leave, in fact adds more reasons to linger, to even pay to stay the whole night…

But newly bathed and shaven, he stands in the door to Mariah's room, scratching at the back of his short cropped dark hair as he smiles and speaks through the door in his distinctly West Yorkshire accent, "…I have to get up before dawn and start my work tomorrow…" it sounds as if he's repeating himself. And he has been. That's his main reason for going, rather than staying.

"I— uh…" He looks at the light coming in a visible window, frowning, before looking back inside the room and offering a smile, "Can I get a kiss before I go?"

It doesn't help that Mariah doesn't actually encourage him leaving much like she does to her other clients, especially those only taking up an hour or so and not paying for the full night. But for now, Mariah has a hand on the door, in a show of seeing him out, and she nods to his explanation. "You said so. Terrible time to start work." Of course, dawn is when she tends to be ending work, so her opinion may be a little skewed.

The question gets a smile, even if it is a bit amused. Instead of answering, she takes hold of his shirt to pull him into one. It certainly isn't a timid goodbye. One might even call it lingering. When she pulls back, however, she seems on the brink of saying something, but her focus shifts to just over Cas' shoulder and she straightens up a bit.

"Jain," she greets, and even if she does seem surprised, it's a warm welcome.

It's not the sort of goodbye he gets.

Then again, he usually walks out while she's still in recovery.

"Mariah," he answers, not as pleasantly and while glancing behind his shoulder at a different door. The muscles in his forearm flex and relax as the soldier clenches and releases his fist, perhaps uncertain of what to do with it. Both hands go behind his back and he stands, feet shoulder width apart, staring down at the man in front of him. "And… boy." To call Cas a man would be an offense to his boyish good looks. He is freshly shaved, after all, unlike the highlander.

It takes a moment for Cas to realize she even said a name and that there's someone else there. Kisses tend to do that to him, sometimes, especially the lingering kind. Eyes opening, he turns around enough to see the man who spoke and visibly hesitates at first. His smile lessens into tight pressed lips. "Ah— 'ello. Uh…" He stands in the doorway for a moment still, looking at him.

Then his eyes cast towards Mariah and back to Jain. When it seems to hit him why the man may be here, he wets his lips and starts to back away, letting go of Mariah with a hand he forgot raising. "I was just— uh— leaving." He even points toward the stairs, as if to indicate direction, but he doesn't take a step that way.

Mariah doesn't go through the polite spiel of introducing them to one another. After all, this isn't the place for polite society, really. She just looks over Jain, her smile taking on a more sly tint to it. "Didn't realize you were coming by tonight," she says as she pushes the door open wider. And invitation to enter, no doubt.

But she doesn't step back in herself, not just yet. She looks over at Cas, expression softer, "I'll see you again soon? Next time, I mean."

There's a slight wrinkle to Jain's lip as Mariah, they way he sees it, plays both men. It's her job, he can't fault it. With a slow shake to his head, the soldier lifts his chin and twists his body as he makes move to leave. "I'll find a whore that ain't used up for the night." Displeasure drowns his tone and posture.

He bends to pick up a large satchel at his feet that clanks with small pieces of metal and glass. It's heavy, marked by the grunt that he gives once he swings it up onto his shoulder. "Finish with him before the next man in your line gets to the door," he advises before taking a few steps toward the stairs.

For an instant, when she holds the door wider for the other man, Cas' mouth twitches. He looks away from her a moment later and runs his hands over his clothes as if making sure he has everything so he can leave. He not taken his first step when he hears the words coming out of Jain's mouth.

There are very few things that put the boyish man's chin up. And apparently the man in the hallway just commited one of those things, cause his jaw tightens, his eyes seem to grow hard and he steps closer to the man with the scrap in his bag. "Oi— don't talk to a lady like that, no matter what her profession is."

It's more Cas' look away from her than Jain's words that bring Mariah's expression down. But it's only for a moment, seeing as Cas steps in and that calls up a whole other expression. Her hand covers her mouth for a moment and she glances between the two. "It's alright, Cas. It's not a problem."

She glances back over at Jain, leaning there in the doorway. "I think you'll find the room welcoming enough, all the same," she says with a nod back toward the door.

Jain bristles, then stops.

The shorter man's challenge of the soldier's mannerisms finds a chink in his calm. Not that he was really that calm. A bit of grey fluff no larger than the man's thumbnail jumps from the back of his collar and into the bag. It's almost too quick to be seen, or at least made sense of.

There's no comment. No what or excuse me to allow Cas to clarify his slight that precedes the action. As Jain turns, his fist comes out in a flash, connecting with Cas' nose. There's definitely a crack as knuckles meet bridge and when the highlander shakes his hand away, a bit of blood flicks out onto the white wall. He'll either clean it or repaint it later. Maybe.

"As I said… I'll find a whore that ain't used up."

Some men take a punch and remain standing— Cas isn't one of them. With blood running from his nose to his lip, he hits the wall a few seconds after the blood and slides down it. For an instant one might think he was knocked unconscious, but the noticable groan that follows before both hands go up to craddle his face—

Or more accurately the bleeding and very painful nose. He doesn't speak up for her honor again, but he's not even getting an 'ow' out either, much less getting back on his feet.

Unlike some females, Mariah doesn't actually like men fighting over her. From a business standpoint, it's not the best thing ever. Plus, she doesn't much like fighting in geneal. So when the punch is thrown, she turns toward the doorframe, like she doesn't want to see it happen. But when it's clear there's just going to be one, she looks over and Jain with a bit of a sigh.

"Maybe that's for the best. For tonight."

There's a bit of a pause before she steps over to Cas, to crouch down and help him back up. And check on his nose.

"Leave him," Jain commands Mariah. He's uncaring about whether or not it's her house he's giving the order in.

The satchel is placed carefully on the floor before he places a heavy hand on her shoulder. Mariah is pushed gently out of the way and he crouches in front of the other man. Wiping the blood off of his knuckles and onto Cas' pantleg, Jain gives him something of a egotistical and weary grin. It's either a bold or idiotic move. The soldier doesn't seem very worried.

"Boy's got to learn to get up on his own, don't he?"

After being hit, Cas seems to be preoccupied with keeping his face covered, even with Mariah's attempt at intervention. He's not really trying to get back up right away. Likely his head is spinning, vision blurred. Fighting isn't something he does often, and staying where he is until the man who hit him leaves might seem like a good option.

Until that man is right in his face, touching his leg with the knuckles that just impacted his nose.

The immediate response is to try and back away, shoving himself even more against the wall. But there's no escape that direction. From his breathing, he's fearful, even almost panicking, and he lifts bloody hands as if to push the man away as he tries to move, mostly against the wall. "Get— get away from me." He's never come to her with any kind of weapon, except the occassional belt knife, but even that wasn't on him today.

Mariah finds herself moved away, and she watches, a bit worried herself. She swallows hard as Cas tries to move away, but she slides back over to Jain to put a hand on his arm and lean in rather intimately. "Come on, Jain. Let him be. We can go along and see who's still free or better yet, you can come along into my room and let me help you forget the evening's rough start, yeah?"

There's a lure in Mariah's tone, as both of them would feel equally even if she is talking to Jain, but her sly smile and seductive glances are just for the militia man at the moment. "Sound alright?"

The quirk to Jain's lips gives him an amused countenance as he observes the young man scrambling to get away. "You need to learn a few things," calm and friendly, his tone doesn't seem to fit what just happened. "First, don't be puffing yourself up to men bigger and stronger than you are. Unless you're prepared to deal with the mess they leave you in. Second— " He stops.

Automatically, he stands, and then picks up the satchel he left on the other side of the hall. He's long enough in limb that he doesn't have to strain. A second glance isn't given to Cas as Mariah's words worm their way into the soldier's skull. "I'll have you and two of the others down there." Said like he's ordering off a menu. "One to clean my hand." Because he feels it necessary to explain why he needs three women in one room.

The panicked breaths may lessen as Jain moves away and goes back to his bag, but Cas still requires a few moments before he can move. The voice may have had something to do with that, and while it may work wonders for his nerves most the time, something about it now doesn't quite get around everything.

Perhaps because of the pain he's in, or Jain himself. Or what's being said.

When he looks over and up at Mariah, there's moisture in his eyes, that starts to fall down his cheeks. Whether from pain, or something else. He presses his hand against the wall, smearing blood there without realizing it, as he stands up and stumbles quickly toward the stairs, avoiding looking at either one of them.