They're constantly about, makin' rounds. One of the girls wearing a pub t-shirt pauses and turns at a look. She's a lovely thing really. Heart-shaped face and purposely erratic hair, plum-brown. "Aye," she smiles. "Another round for y' all? Miss?" A tilt up of her chin and the young waitress focuses on the woman with a mess of gents.

     Edward glances at Tori after her comment, then smiles at Sakir again. "Huh," he rolling cigarette in one hand while putting the silver lighter away. "So, you like all kinds o' items, not just th' exey ones? History fer history's sake, then?"

     Nodding, Tori says to the girl, "Yes, please... another red wine, if you will?" She then looks at the others... do you want anything while the girl's here?

     "Ah!" Edward murmurs, putting cigarette between his lips and pushing his glass to the edge of the table, "...be a good birdie an' bring another, willya?"

     Davydd lifts his pint -- that's sign enough -- for he's paying attention to the conversation. "So... for example... the ring that Victoria here is wearin', you'd be able to tell us the approximate age and all?" A glance between Victoria and Edward. "That'd be interesting. For one, I'm a bit curious to see how it works..."

     The young woman smiles and nods, "Right away, miss. Aye and all around..." She dances more than turns about, quite a cute little bird, so far as birds go...

     Sakir looks to his untouched drink, as the girl passes by. "No, thank you. I'm fine." His voice, by now, has adopted a perfect Londoner's accent.
     "Exey?" This term confuses the man in the white suit. He then glances at the ring Davydd speaks about. "Well, perhaps. Perhaps." No commital.

     There's something in Davydd's look. Like he knows something about the ring himself, perhaps. Like he wants to hear if the man can confirm his own, quietly held suspicions or wonderment...

     "Exey," Edward waves his hand, tendrils of smoke half-shrouding his jawline and lightening his black hair, "...err..expensive." For you non-Eastenders.

     Blinking, Tori looks at Davydd, then down at the ring on her hand as though she had forgotten she was even wearing it. "Oh," she says, seeming as though she's not sure what to do next. Holding her hand toward Sakir, she murmurs, "Well, if you want to look at it, go ahead... but you must excuse me if I don't take it off. This ring never leaves my hand..."

     The ring is of obvious age. It lacks the delicate repetition of more modern pieces. But it is embellished with carvings. Swirled. A healthy-sized ruby set in. A ruby of very fine resonance and quality. The stone is perhaps an odd choice considering the swirls and etchings into the gold. The decorations speak of Celtic modes of art. The ruby of some... eastern. How did the two meet...

     "Leave a quid when yer done, willya, lass?" Edward quips at Tori, removing cigarette from his lips and pulling at his tongue with two fingers.

     He keeps his hands studiously away. The man in white, who so recently was touching every stone he passed, seems not to want to touch the ring. "Well, it is of nice design."Indonesian ruby? It is fine, quite." He puzzles over the design. "Though it confuses me how such a stone could ever find its way to the hands of a Celtic craftsman." Frowning. "Eastern coast?"

     Davydd lifts his eyes from the ring to Sakir. Interest obvious upon his features. Curious. And chuckling, a quick glance to Edward. Cheeky. Fingers tug at the pack of cigs. Another taken, another lit. And for now, he leaves the pint alone.
     "Indonesia? Not India?" Just curious, you understand...

     "Stones travel all th' time," nowdays anyway. Edward leaves that part off. "Sell here, buy there..." it doesn't seem too special to him that it's well-travelled.

     Ice-blue eyes flicker briefly, glancing over at Edward. Snorting, she rolls her eyes, then looks back at Sakir. "I don't know much about the ring, save that it was given to me by a very good friend," Tori comments lightly, offering a smile. Tossing a glance to Davydd, she shrugs.

     He leans up on his elbows, still looking at the ring, and forcing Victoria to hold her hand in the air. He still refuses to touch the ring or hand. "It seems to be original setting, and it does appear to be quite old." He then leans back in his chair. "Without detailed metallurgical analysis I wouldn't be able to tell you the exact age though."

     "Aye?" A gruff from Davydd as he stowes his lighter. "Ah well, you know... Celtic corsairs... they were adventurous buggers the Celts. Or maybe some Roman senator left it behind in the care of someone who knew what to do with it..." A wink to Tori and Davydd settles back. A sigh. "We'll never know I guess..."

     Pulling her hand back, Tori looks down at her ring and murmurs, "Well, that's ok... sometimes little mysteries make life worth living, non?" The French word slips into the sentence easily, no doubt from her time spent there.

     Sakir shakes his head, letting whatever reverie that had taken him fall away. A slight smile remains, though, happy that this is over for the moment. "Nice ring." He says finally. "I can see why you treasure it. Maybe in centuries to come it will grace a great exhibit of ancient art."
     The lukewarm drink gets pushed in yet another direction. His own ring sparkles.

     Edward smiles, picking up the last of his pint. Drama over, as expected. He reaches for the fresh one, exchanging warm and old for warm and less old.
     "Yer all dressed up," Edward decides to play on. "Night on th' town?" he wonders of Sakir. He seems extremely interested for some particular reason.

     Aye... in all the fuss and the ring-starin... new drinks arrived...

     Davydd flicks away the dead ash from his cigarette and pulls the old pint back to him first. A tilt of it, cigarette held away, and the old is done for. He'll get to the new in a moment.
     "It's a nice ring," Davydd concurs with a nod. "I should have friends like that," he continues. "Who give away jewelry and rubies..." And he grins, giving Edward a bit of a look. "How come you only give me golden grief?"

     "That's all y' deserve," Edward says firmly, but with a smirk. Cigarette is set down, and he takes the instant to look at Tori and then at her hand.

     "Thank you," Tori murmurs, looking at Davydd as he comments on the ring. Chuckling, she murmurs, "Well, I was seeing someone at the time when I received this ring... it caused quite a stir, since it wasn't him that gave me the ring." A grin slips into her smile as she says this.
     Ah, the drinks are here.. a good distraction. She reaches for her new wine glass, offering a quick smile of gratitude to the girl.

     "Dressed up?" Sakir glances down at his gleaming jacket. "Oh, I see. I just felt like wearing this." Another deflection, perhaps false. He responds quietly, letting conversation move to Tori again.

     A nod for Sakir, and Edward does as politely encouraged. "That'll get 'im," Edward confirms for her, pint at his lips. "Wearin' someone else's gifts..."

     Red brows lift in a sweep. Oh aye? "Somehow... that doesn't surprise me," comes the mull. A strange mull. And what does that mean? What else could it mean. She's a lovely woman... don't lovely women get gifts all the time...
     "So... what did your boyo do?" Davydd asks suddenly, over his own previous words. And he grins, making a gesture of fire with the cigarette. "Did 'e get jealous? Bloody hell, I would have. Strange men goin' about givin' my woman ruby rings..."

     Grinning, Tori chuckles and replies, "Oh, he got jealous, yes... every time I received a gift from this friend. He wouldn't listen to me when I said he was just a friend. The poor man was nearly driven into a rage the one night..." Shaking her head, she sighs wistfully and murmurs, "He was just over-possessive of me, in truth. He couldn't handle any other man paying me mind..."

     "Can't a bloke giv' a lass a ring wit'out someone gettin' their knickers inna huff?" Edward laments, looking at Davydd in mock-accusation.
     There are those who get jealous and there are those who make people jealous. "Don't mean annythin' but that y' gave 'ir a ring, is all..." Well. You know.

     Silent, now. Sakir folds his arms and listens. Occasionally he looks confused, as if he has forgotten how to understand the language. Other times he lets his fingertips drag across the table, feeling the grain.

     Bah, as if I'm a jealous man. There's a chuckle for Edward's lamentation. "Depends on the bloke, Edward-bach. Now, if you had a favorite someone..." note he leaves lass off, "... and ...say William gave that special someone a ring, what would it mean to you?" Davydd settles back with a broad and tilting smile, challenging green eyes and punctuating that sentiment with his cigarette. "Would it just mean that he gave a ring?" And to that, Davydd laughs. "I would be changing my locks, I don't know about you..." And then he lets it go. A look again to Sakir... a question on his lips.
     "Accents a bit thick?" he wonders, audibly toning his down. Davydd smiles, half-shrugs, "Habit..."

     Tori looks at Edward and nods. "Well, that's what I felt... it's jewelry. It was a gift between friends. It's not like it was an engagement ring and that he asked me to marry him... really," Tori replies with a laugh. Shrugging, she says, "But, well, that was some time ago..." Her voice fades as she lifts her wine to her lips, taking the first mouthful from the new glass.
     As Davydd mentions William, she nearly spits out her wine, laughing...

     Edward turns to Tori. Well? "Alright, if William," Edward winces, speaking of their common friend. Then, maybe someone had reason to be worried.
     But she spits. Edward blinks and then looks at Sakir. "Right-o, I stand correct'd," he nods. "I'd fuckin' kill him."

     A chuckle. "Oh, no not that. Accents don't cause me much problem." Enigmatic smile plays on Sakir's stone skin. "Please, do not stress on my account." All this to Davydd.

     I knew I was right... the spitting always confirms it...
     Davydd smirks and gestures to Edward, "Aye... I thought so," comes the dragon's rumble. "As would I," a further mull. But he leaves that for now, a look between his table-mates and back to Sakir at the end. The smile is slight but warm. Like there's a punch-line at the end of it. Green eyes sparkle as he looks to the ever-filling ashtray. Another flick of ash. "So you're an archeologist of sorts then. You go on any digs?" Without missing a beat he looks to Edward. "I've always wanted to do that... it's all those National Geographic magazines..."

     "Well, yes, I'll admit it was William, but... that's beside the point," Tori says, trying to keep a straight face. She knows that for those who know William, it's really no good trying to argue about his nature. Shaking her head, she just sits there chuckling to herself, trying to drink more of her wine, falling silent as the conversation wafts back to Sakir.

     "Yes, I have found myself at a number of digs." Sakir's voice echoes Davydd's in having a hidden punch line. Fingers trace out condensation from his glass. "They are not very romantic. Very dusty. Unpleasant. And hot."
     "Occasionally some trinket surfaces from the sands, but mostly it is a fragment of this or a shard of that." Wistful fog clouds up in his eyes again, those used to reading a person's bodylanguage might even swear to his eyes actually physically fogging.

     "Oh sweet Jesus!" Davydd quips, immediately forgetting about the Geographics. "Lord Christ in heaven," he exhales as he sits back with his full weight. And he looks to Edward. All he can do is make a gesture. I leave it to you, mate.
     And the rest from Davydd is deep chuckling. Held in the chest. Rolling of his eyes. Soft curses beneath his breath. "Sorry," he says to Sakir, interrupting his own tale. "Ah well, I blame my love of Harrison Ford, what can I do. The man's a genius..."

     Across the booth from Davydd, the woman starts a bit. Blinking at Davydd's reaction, Tori actually stops in mid-sip and gapes at him. Then, she laughs and shakes her head, saying, "Don't do that... I thought something was wrong..." Another laugh and her wine glass is set down before she ends up spilling it.

     "I was at a dig m'self. Metaponto," Edward muses. "An' one in Spain. Tunisia too," he nods, recalling that. "I didn't do anything," he lighting another in the chain of cigarettes, "...but..." he shrugs. There you go.

     There's a look at Edward. He never quits, does he. And giving away my sister's ring, too. Bastard. But there's only a slant of a smirk that he shows, and Davydd stamps out his cigarette to tend to his Guinness and cider.
     "Hmmm," he says into a swallow, then he exhales. "I've never done anything like that. I don't get out much." A bit of pink at the ears for that. Oh, too true...

     "Metaponto" Sakir nods to himself. "And Spain?" He actually, finally, lifts his glass to his lips. Letting it rest there a moment he thinks. Then he places it down without taking a sip. "I have spent most of my time in the dust of the middle east. Rarely do I find myself further west than Italia."

     The wine is taken back up, but not sipped just yet. Tori leans back in her seat again, watching the three of you talking about archeology and digs. She doesn't have much to add to this topic, so she seems content to just sit back and listen for now.

     "I ne'er find myself east o' Prague anymore," Edward offers, looking past Sakir and into infinity. Recalling. He lets out a soft 'hmph' and then returns to the table and conversation proper.
     "You should get out more, Davy," Edward leans into his friend. "It'd change yer perspective." Eyes turn to Tori, "You get out too much," he teases.

     Green eyes wander again to Tori. Flicking here and there as they do between the various converations. But then, he laughs. Rich and warm to that last comment. A slight shake of his head.
     Fucking Plantagenet...
     Ah well, exhale. "My perspective is fine. I go to Spain and France on occasion. I've no desire to go to Egypt and get blown up... what's wrong with m' perspective?" he quips, looking to Edward, up and down motion with a slant of a grin. "Are you saying I'm...provincial?"

     A faux hurt look is tossed in Edward's direction as Tori catches his comment. "Well.. if you're jealous, Edward..." she retorts with a sneer....followed by a wink and a grin. Chuckling, she looks to Davydd, commenting, "He's right on a roll tonight, isn't he?"

     "Ah nah... he's actually a bit sedate," Davydd murmurs, leaning in toward her. "You ought to see him when he's throwing all his weight into it..."

     "An' heft it is," Edward gloats, waggling his brows before swallowing the last of the present pint in a fell swoop. The glass is crashed upon the wood table with a good thud, a death knell if there was one. Another one bites the dust. "I'm not sayin' yer provincial, Davy," Edward waves off, not rushing to find another drink, "...jes that you should get out sommore, is all."

     A quick chuckle escapes Tori as she shakes her head at all of this. The boys are in rare form, maybe? She then looks to Sakir, then back to Davydd as she says, "Sedate... I'd hate to see him when he wasn't being sedate..." A wink to Davydd follows this as she leans back in her seat once more, sipping more wine.

     A hint of humor. Sakir watches the interplay of the three as an outsider would, an interested outsider.

     A foreign tongue. A roll of consonants with a few dragging vowels. This is uttered behind Edward's comment to heft. The Welsh tongue. It sounds like rivers tumbling down mountains. Fluent and lovely, yet with its hardness and strength. And it rattles from Davydd in native ease. Even his laughter sounds different after speaking it. "Aye well..." There's no argument to that. Just a chuckle and a lopsided grin. He looks to Sakir and Tori. A half-shrug. What can I do? I can't take him anywhere.
     "I've not much to say about digs and what-not, haven't done it. But I'm sure it's allowed for a lovely bit of travel... and you," he says to Tori, "I'd clap your man's hand and give him condolences, poor bastard. Since you were in France with William, I take it William won..."
     He shouldn't even be playing...

     Again, Tori blinks. She snorts and murmurs, "No, William did not win... William and I are friends. He gave me a place to stay when I left North America." Something shifts in her demeanor for a brief moment as she adds more quietly, "And my man... disappeared one day without a trace. No one's seen where he went or has heard from him."
     Pause.
     Another shift as she chuckles, shaking her head, "No... no, there is nothing between William and I in that manner. He is much more like an older brother to me.."

     That gets a quirk from Edward. Eyes go from Tori, to Davydd, then Sakir...and back to Tori. "Y' man's disappear'd?" And you're sitting here so calmly. "Did run off wit' yer best friend or sommat?"

     Sakir also seems to hang on the word dissapeared. Perhaps it is his obsession with lost items that brings such attention.

     Oh, touched a bit of a nerve, I see. Davydd doesn't really apologize. He just sort of nods, "Aye well enough," he murmurs. But then as Edward starts in, he just falls silent.
     It was just a joke...

     This line of questioning from Edward seems to make her a bit uncomfortable, causing her to shift in her seat a bit. Tori glances down into her wine for a moment, pursing her lips. There is hesitation...and a lot of it.
     "No, he didn't run off with anyone... he just... wasn't there anymore. One night, I went home and he wasn't there..." she adds quietly, then picks up the wine glass. Leaning her head forward a bit, Tori causes some of her hair to fall into her face as she raises the glass to her lips. A small sip is taken, causing her to fall silent.

     Fingers outstretch on the wood, and Sakir draws them back like he is reading braille. Perhaps he thinks he is reading the history of the table.
     Of course. He may just be, as he seems to lose his focus for a moment, and shake his head. Blinking, he comes back to himself and the conversation -- shifting away on a total segue -- "I am thinking of returning to India next month. Hoping to spend time amidst the spices and music."

     "Ah well," Davydd exhales, "... I came home one night and found my woman with another man in my antique leather comforter chair and all my shite was on the lawn. So... sorry to hear it... I know whereof you speak."
     Alright, so it's not funny anymore.
     "India," Davydd leaps on the new subject, "... I haven't been there in ages..." Since Gunga Din was a boy. "...I have been thinking of going to the coast...maybe in a year or two. I've got to save up," as if.

     Tori seems grateful for Sakir's conversation re-direction, even if it wasn't too subtle. Her gaze keeps lowered into her glass as she lowers it to the table once more. Has she gone a bit paler? Maybe it's the lighting.
     "India sounds nice," she comments briefly. However, Davydd's words bring her gaze back up to him. A brief shake of her head. We'll talk more of this later, maybe. She then looks back to Sakir, leaving that topic behind for now, asking, "I have heard much of the music out there. I will have to go sometime..."

     Edward just looks between Tori and Sakir. Well. Then he turns to Davydd. He knows Edward best here. Edward purses his lips and lets his head falls to his left shoulder. Disengaging. He sets his cigarette ahead of himself for a moment, staring at it, then returns it to his lips.
     Like his drink, it too is not long for this world. No comment on India from him, but now finally does he glance around the room, perhaps looking for that refresher on his pint.

     Quick tugs and fingers pull sleeves up to conceal Sakir's tattoos again. Fallen back again, annoyingly. But all this is done unconciously. "It is beautiful music -- or at least, not very western. Some of it is so strangely alien that you cannot help but listen to it for hours."
     Perhaps he is not the most subtle of conversationlists, but his shifts in direction are effective. His gaze also drifts, though not for watching for drink refreshing, but rather towards the various ornaments of the room. His fingers itch to touch each wooden scroll, each piece of glass and fleck of enamel.

     It's about time for the migrating birds of Kelly's establishment to come wandering by. And so... after another moment or two, the same heart-shaped girl pauses as she's moving by. "How are we doin' here? Alright?"

     "Aye," Edward murmurs, "...fuckin' brilliant -- look..." and he twists, half-rising from his seat. From a short front pocket, he retrieves a few bills with the present King's likeness on them. "Call it square," he states, dropping three 20 pound notes on the table.

     Glancing up at the waitress, Tori nods once and murmurs, "Yes, fine thank you.." Looking to the rest of you, she murmurs, "I should head out for now. I have a few more things I need to get done tonight."
     There is a brief pause as she finishes her wine, then murmurs, "I'm staying at Claridge's, if anyone wants to get in touch with me." She then flashes an apologetic to Sakir, who would have to move to let her get out of the booth.

     "Claridge's," Edward nods. Right. Whatever. "Been a thrill, kids, but I gotta move." So quickly too. He smiles at Sakir, "Pleasure old chap," he genuinely grins if rapidly. "You passin' through or stayin'? Oh, right...yer off t' India...huh?"

     A dismissvely gesture. No apology necessary is what it says. And Sakir slides from the booth. "I must, in fact, also be on my way. I have a few backstreets, yet, to follow down and find the cornerstones of other buildings." A smile to the three. "If you will excuse me? It has been quite delightful." A business card slides out from a sleeve, and into his hand. "I am easily contacted, should you need the aid of an ethnoarchaeologist."

     Davydd outstretches his hands. Where's everyone goin'? The night is young!
     Bah... I'm the only one that sees it. He collects his pack of cigs. "Claridges, eh? Nice-nice..." And Edward too? Bah! He pockets his lighter and smirks. "Well, I guess I should ... go somewhere..." Like he has a place to go. Lifting his chin, he gives Sakir a nod. "Cheers..."
     But as the rest of you rush off, Davydd takes his time collecting himself.

     The hand is rather fast. Edward reaches out and snaps the card up from the table, peering at it immediately. "Cheers," he murbles...
     "Come with," Edward nudges Davydd, pushing himself to standing. "I'll take y' home," he notes for the record, slipping card into his jacket pocket.

     The card is a simple one. A phone number in gold leaf on white. No name. No business. The exchange is foreign.

     "It was a pleasure," Tori murmurs to Sakir as she then moves to slip out of the booth, also. Standing, she stretches a bit. She moves to get her coat, tossing it on in a swift motion. Looking to Davydd, she says quietly, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Davydd... however, I will see you again, non?"

     "Nah, mate," Davydd counters, a bit of a smile trailing. "I think I'll walk it... give your lad a flourish for me... promise him I won't be around tonight..." He pauses, glancing to Tori. Ah, sure. "Aye... ah, ring the palace..." Kensington to be exact.
     Only he wasn't. And with that, Davydd rises. "Cheers all..."

Posted by rowan at April 18, 2003 09:18 PM