Puzzle

A moment in time wherein Sylf, posing as Atrea Silverleaf, agrees to a gamble with Mad McDanna (Tomlyn).

Timeframe: Pre-Row House

The Flying Cup had been Sylf's favored tavern for years now, residing on the edge of the Undercity and Old Town. The food and drinks were decent and reasonably priced, the music was good, and the patrons knew how to keep their business to themselves. She liked the relaxed atmosphere, and it was a nice place to visit after a long day.

Tonight, the tavern was busy, but not overly crowded, which was normal for this time of evening. She sat in her usual corner of the tavern with her glass of Cabernet, a position that let her look out over the rest of the space easily. Willy Wiles sat by the hearth, playing his lute and singing a tale about some knight or another, like usual. Shayla Zihrir was manning the bar, chatting up patrons and making them comfortable so they spent more money, like usual.

All in all, it was a mostly regular night at The Flying Cup, just like she expected.

Bright, loud laughter caught her ear, and she couldn't help her gaze turning towards the source. A drow elf stood in front of a table with several patrons, mostly catering to a handsome human male with wavy brown hair, but the man was inconsequential. "Mad McDanna", as Sylf commonly knew him by, seemed to absorb all the attention from the table as a whole.

McDanna was tall, broad shouldered, and had this charismatic energy that seemed to infect whoever he talked to. He could even sweet talk Shayla into letting him run up the tab and "paying next time" on a good day. Most of the time, though, he seemed to use that charisma to get whoever he was talking to into bed. He seemed to have a preference for men, but Sylf had seen him with a woman on occasion.

Sylf was, unfortunately, acquainted with McDanna through work. Over the past decade or so they occasionally crossed paths, mostly for information or help on a job, but lately it seemed like she was running into him constantly—either working together on the same job, accidentally bumping into each other while on separate jobs, or even while running errands in the Undercity market square. Clearly, he had also made a habit of visiting The Flying Cup too.

Why was that? What kind of work was he doing differently from before? His visitations to The Flying Cup were more recent, so to speak. Hm… Sylf had stopped taking assassination work to focus more on her information brokering. Was it the change in her schedule too?

All she knew was that Mad McDanna was a puzzle. She liked puzzles, but this one she preferred to stay at a distance and to quickly be sorted out. His laid-back demeanor always got under her skin when they worked and she never understood it. Or, rather, she didn't quite understand him.

If there was one thing that Sylf detested, it was simply not knowing.

McDanna's red eyes swept the crowd and caught her gaze before she had time to look away. He grinned at her and Sylf swore under her breath. The last thing she wanted was for him to come over to her table. He wouldn't leave the man he'd been chatting with, right? He was practically throwing himself at McDanna and seemed to be his type, from what she had learned about his preferences.

Alas, no. McDanna was stepping away from the man, ale mug in hand. He deftly sidestepped the man's grasp and wove his way through the tables looking right at Sylf. Scowling, she took a generous sip of wine. As she was finishing off her goblet, McDanna slid into the seat.

She glared at him. "What do you want McDanna?"

"What, I can't say hi?"

"Saying hi implies we're friendly."

McDanna grinned widely at her. Part of her was secretly pleased at he smiled at her, and the other part of her simply refused to acknowledge the brief fluttering of her heart. "Aren't we though?" he asked. "I mean, you did drink with me last week."

"That was—" she started to protest, but then he turned and signaled a waitress a few tables over.

"Oi! Gina! Refills for me and the lady here? Thanks!"

Sylf crossed her arms and didn't say anything as he leaned back into the chair lazily, his body angled in the chair to watch Willy Wiles' performance. From this angle, she noted that he had cut his hair recently and even washed it. Good. It was getting far too long, and it looked ridiculous parted to the side at that longer length.

McDanna caught her staring (again, ugh) and gave her a wink. She scowled at him.

"Aw, come on," he laughed. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Bad? No. Annoying? Yes," she replied coolly. He laughed brightly, and she felt the pull of his warm, inviting laugh. No. No, no, no. His laugh was just a laugh. That was it.

Gina delivered the drinks and Sylf sipped her Cab slowly, not wanting to lose her senses with McDanna around. "What is it that you actually want, McDanna? And before you ask, no, I'm not going to sleep with you."

He sighed a dramatic, mournful sigh. "A shame." He gave her a wolfish grin, the grin of a scoundrel who knew he was doing something irresistible and devious at the same time. "You seem like the kind of gal who really needs someone good with their tongue." He leaned in a whispered conspiratorially. "And I'm really good with my tongue." He stuck out his tongue and wagged it at her and she rolled her eyes, feigning disgust.

McDanna was a liar, and a damn good one at that, but she did not think he was lying about this particular "skill set" at all. …Damn.

As much as she hated to admit it, McDanna was attractive and good-natured, which meant he was agreeable. He also seemed to share the same "no-strings-attached" policy she did regarding intimate liaisons: one and done. No attachments. His physique was also, unfortunately, of interest.

All in all, McDanna easily met her requirements for a one-night stand, and she had to admit to herself that she was a bit curious as to what it would be like with him. There was just one, single, glaring problem.

Sylf managed to keep her composure cool. "I'm also the 'kind of gal' who doesn't like it when others tell me what I should think," she replied smoothly.

At that, McDanna laughed. "Oh, you're definitely thinking about my tongue, A."

"Tell me what you want so you can leave," she said, her voice tight and controlled.

He stared at her for a moment appraisingly. She hated it. Then, he took a swig of his ale, and tilted his head at her, clearly amused. "Look, A., I've known you for a while now and I've seen the shit you can do. So, I know, that you never do anything you don't want to do. Which means that if I'm still sitting here with you, well…" He spread his arms wide, gesturing as though the words Then obviously you want me here were hanging between them unsaid.

The single, glaring problem was that McDanna was dangerous.

The drow was exceptionally observational, taking note of small details in behaviors, attitudes, and reading the room. She knew he was a little hasty, but he was also quick on his feet and highly reactive and adaptive. Where she liked to mull over plans, he concocted them in the moment, adjusting to the smallest change with ease. It was something as simple as noticing one group member being slightly off to changing a route on a whim because "it felt right".

Sylf did not need to get involved with dangerous. Dangerous was how she met an early death. Whether or not she wanted his company was irrelevant.

"McDanna—"

"Fine, fine." He held up his hands, as if in surrender. "Play a round of dice with me first and I'll leave."

"I'd rather do cards," she replied immediately. She didn't really want to play, but, if she had to then cards were better.

"No way, I know how you 'play' cards," he said knowingly. "I'd like a chance at the actual odds, thanks."

"Fine," she sighed. "One round of dice." She started to pull out some coins from her pouch, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"I don't want to gamble with money. Let's say, if you win, I'll give you a small bit of info—equivalent to what you would have bet in coins anyway."

Sylf frowned. "And if you win?"

McDanna grinned at her, and it didn't seem possible, but she equally liked and disliked that grin. "If I win, then I get to dance with you, Atrea Silverleaf."

She stared at him for a moment, processing his bet. Then she asked, "Why?"

He shrugged, "Just feel like dancing with you."

"Why gamble for it? Why not just ask?"

He looked at her as though the answer was obvious. "Because you'll turn me down."

"Then shouldn't that be an indication that this is a pointless bet?"

McDanna's grin slid into a small smirk that reminded her of someone who was about to win, dangerous and goading. Sylf breathed deeply as she felt a thrill run through her.

"A., that's what makes it fun," he said slowly, teasing out the words, as if he knew he had her captivated. "You have to agree to the consequences of the bet, the unknown. You get some information that I know you don't have, or you have to suck it up and dance with me."

Shit. He knew she couldn't resist the easy, free information (the thrill in her completely irrelevant). And if McDanna said she didn't have it, he meant it. Lying about that would hurt his professional credibility with her. After over a decade of running into each other and working together on and off, there was no way he was about the throw that all away for one, silly dance.

"Fine. Information or a dance. One round. I'm in," she agreed.

He took a large swig of his ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his visage coming alight with excitement. "Excellent! Uppers and Lowers, five rolls, best of five wins."

"Deal." They shook on it and started rolling the dice. Sylf won the first round, McDanna the second and third rounds. She won the fourth, which meant it was down to the final round.

Sylf considered trying to manipulate the dice in her favor, but dice were harder to rig if they weren't loaded from the beginning. Of course, if they were playing cards, this wouldn't be a problem, but McDanna knew she was quick fingered with cards. Hm, maybe she needed to invest some time in learning how to manipulate dice…

For now, though, she had to play it straight. Sylf rolled but made the wrong call. McDanna rolled and matched his call. Sylf let out a huff of frustration as he whooped and clapped loudly.

"I do believe, I won." His grin was so wide it almost reached his ears. He stood, chugging the rest of his ale and bringing it back down on the table with a loud thump. "Shall we?" he asked, holding his hand out to her.

Sylf rolled her eyes and took a generous swig of wine before standing and taking his hand. His dark skin was calloused and rough, as expected, but his touch was surprisingly cool. She always thought his hands would be clammy or sweaty, but they were the exact opposite.

McDanna led her to the cleared-out space of the tavern and called to Willy, asking for a lively tune next. Willy, though, always had to finish a song before moving onto the next one. This tune was a bit slower, so McDanna took her hand in his, the other resting lightly at the small of her back. He held her confidently and with ease, a small distance between them. But even from here, he smelled pleasantly like ale and wood fire of a hearth.

They danced a more traditional human dance, gently shuffling around on the floor. They were close in height, something she never realized before. Her eyes met his and she was reminded how striking his red eyes were, like two rubies glistening in a mysterious cavern.

McDanna grinned at her, and she scowled in response. "Aw, come on A. We haven't even started yet!" he exclaimed, laughing.

As if Willy heard him, the music shifted into a lively, spirited, elven waltz. McDanna moved more quickly now, quick-stepped and lively as he kept in time with the music. She followed his lead easily, despite it being some time since she danced with anyone.

He moved her all across the dance floor, guiding her to and from him and around him, all in intricate steps and spins. Her feet moved of their own accord, her mind falling into the thoughtless pattern of movement along the rhythm. Normally, she was bored when she danced, but there was something about this dance that was different.

Sylf felt a familiar of thrill and ease, as though she were picking a lock. Picking locks always presented a challenge, a puzzle, that she excelled at solving in order to discover what someone wanted hidden away. She felt the thrill of discovery, the satisfaction that came with the 'click' of the lock opening, and the twinge of danger at the unknown. But picking a lock was also something she could do with her eyes closed. Something she knew and understood by heart.

Why did she feel like this over a silly dance?

McDanna pulled her towards him and into his chest as the song ended, his hand pressed firmly against her back and her other hand still in his strong grasp. She stared at him breathing heavily, dazed, her heart pounding from the quick movements.

"Woah, Atrea," he breathed, soft and amazed, "You're good."

McDanna started to move her again, but it snapped her out of the ridiculous haze. She stepped back from him and out of his arms. For a moment he looked disappointed, but then his lazy demeanor slipped into place.

She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "One dance. That was the deal."

"That was the deal," he agreed. Then, he flashed her a wolfish grin. "Next time, I'll make a better wager."

Sylf rolled her eyes at him and turned away from his laughter. She paid her tab and left, refusing to acknowledge the cheeky grin that followed her as she moved through the tavern.

When she got settled in her small apartment, she promptly pulled out her pair of dice and began to practice. If she could control the dice, then she could control the wager. If she could control the wager, well, then, she could figure out exactly why she enjoyed that dance.

This one was a lot of fun to write. I love writing banter between Sylf and Tomlyn.