01.25.3014: A Study of Patterns
Summary: Luke exits jail and runs into Lady Evey Dalton and Lady Rozlyn Orelle
Date: 11/14/2013
Related: Who Is Your Knight and What Does He Do?
Luke Evey Rozlyn 

First Quadrant, The Ring
The Halo is a thick circlet that arcs around the equator of the Ring's main sphere. It is one of the busiest regions of the Ring as it connects the six disks that stretch out from the Halo like spokes on a wheel. The Halo itself feels like a tall, but still somewhat narrow, tunnel with wide mezzanine walkways running along its sides, and the monorail below where sleek trams quickly ferry travelers around the circle. Spaced equally along the Halo are elevator bays with lifts that run up along the exterior longitude of the sphere to the various districts. Transparent composite panels line the outermost wall of the Halo to provide breathtaking views of the Eye and its Lashes as the Ring continues its own orbit around the blue gas giant.

It's the artificial morning on the Halo, with its stunning views of the calmness of space outside. Exiting from one of the warehouses is Evey Dalton, wearing her typical yellow dress, though her eyes seem to be developing small bags under them. Otherwise, she's her typical self, strolling away and taking in the occasional sights. Tapping on her datapad, she's muttering to herself audibly. "Hopefully that fixes that problem."

Coming out of the First Quadrant jail, is another figure in the bustle of the space port. A shake of his jacket and a dwindling cigarette clamped in his lips, Luke Grantham, does not seem overtly rested. Nor, does he seem tired either. After his jacket's been shook out and thrown over his shoulders, the long and lean knight stretches a bit further, before shaking out his legs. Hands are jammed down into pockets, as mismatched eyes take in the sights of a new simulated day.

And as she looks up from her datapad, as luck(good or bad?) would have it, there's the Crow. And is he…that's quite clearly labeled as the police station. Curiosity seems to get Evey in lots of trouble lately, but she wanders over anyways. "My Lord Sir." Evey says in an even, friendly greeting with a nod. As she gets closer, she'll follow it up. "Filing a report, Luke?" There's a smirk on her face as the question is asked.

It is fair to say that-yes it is indeed the crow, and yes, it is indeed the police station he is exiting. Eyes open a bit wider as flash of yellow is caught, and the familiar sight of one of the Daltons is suddenly-right there. A cough, as Luke brings up a hand to pluck away that cigarette and flicks it off-though not the most judicious form of dealing with a dying cigarette-as likely some poor sod is going to have to come by and clean it from the station floor.

Once cigarette is done with, Luke is glancing to Evey as he scratches his jaw. "Lady Evey." replied easily in a voice raw from smoke and sleep. Another cough as he clears his throat, seems to loosen and soften it a touch. "No, no. I had a room here, actually. Finest place to stay on The Ring. They give you a sandwich and a glass of water-so meal is included with board." A wry smile. "Yourself?" If one were to come upon the scene, Luke is currently standing outside of the police station in old clothes, while it seems Evey Dalton has chanced herself to be in the right spot at the right time to see the exiting jailbird.

There's a head-shake from Evey. "And what might the Crow have done to earn such a privilege?" She asks, apparently unsurprised by his response. Her datapad is pocketed as her head tilts to take in his current attire. "And apparently they also provide free clothes! Why, you ought to move in." A chuckle as she clutches her parcel a bit in response. "Oh, finding some things I need for back home."

A small grouping of scientists make their way down the mezzanine, discussing something over a collection of datapads. At their center is Lady Rozlyn Orelle. The woman moves with a purpose; the planet her satellites circle about. She carries herself not as one who cleaves to be this center, but as one who simply /is/. This is no gathering of gossip or social structure, but a meeting of minds. As a tram whispers into station nearby, there are final words offered. Directions given. Tasks assigned. Most of the gathering peel away to catch the tram- likely to an early (or late?) lunch.

"System," Rozlyn says softly into an earpiece, "ensure my schedule is open for the evening." A pause as the AI responds back and she utters a sigh, pausing just outside of conversational range, yet within greeting range of the Dalton and Grantham, looking down to her tablet. "Yes, leave that appointment. We can work around it."

"What might I have done? Likely, dear Lady Evey, I broke the fucking law." voice a bit dry there, before he is looking back down at his clothes and then flatly back. "Oh I had this on when I went in, believe me, this was not free unless you mean when I put it on the other day." A kiss of his teeth and movement catches his eye. Even he is not distracted enough to look on to the tram that goes on it's job- rather the Grantham is more or less watching the movement of scientists, which hover and flutter like bees attending to a queen- "For home…" Luke murmurs, a bit distractedly -And in a way they are- a virtual hive of information gathered and transferred, which peels off as the tram goes to take them into their seclude labs-or off to home.

"Oh fuckall.." murmurs Luke, as a grimace forms, but briefly. The Knight in his most shabbiest is now looking back to the lone straggler, which moments before had simply been focus of distraction. A hand through his red hair, before he is clearing his voice. After all, one does not ignore the Paramount House. Ever. There's a breech in that, which in his precarious situation, would be entirely too stupid to ignore. But, it's also likely stupid to draw attention.

Fuck it.

"Good day, Lady Ro-" Oh fuck, her name? Rozlyn! "-zlyn." A bow of his head, respectful if not perhaps the best done. "Mind your shoe." a finger pointed to where he discarded his liter before.

"Oh, I much preferred your other tunic…" Evey responds wryly. And then there's the tram passing by. She turns her head at the passing group of scientists. More like ants to Evey, crawling their way out of every corner on the Ring. Noting the Orelle Lady as well, Evey gives a polite half-bow to the member of the liege family. "Lady Rozlyn, good morning."

The bow precedes the greeting. And then it dawns on her that her that she, a Lady of House Dalton, is standing next to the just released Grantham. Her mind starts working on a story.

It is only when the greetings are provided that Rozlyn's attention breaks away from the tablet balanced in her left hand. The woman is attired in a grey blouse that tucks into flowing black slacks. Elegance in simplicity, yet an implication as well of movement. A single booted foot does pause and she glances towards the discarded cigarette. Expression draws slightly, but the Orelle does not falter.

"Lord Luke. Lady Evey." Dark eyes do shift towards the security station they stand before. Brows lower slightly as they come back to the pair. "I trust all is well?"

"I believe for Lady Evey, it is." Luke states as he disengages, lest he place some sort of odd light on the poor girl. Her comment about his tunics is ignored before he is glancing back to Lady Evey "She was telling me of how she was looking for things-for home?" a half shrug before he is coming closer to Rozlyn, eyes kept in their usual half lidded state as a half grin is given out of instinct more than having something witty to say.

"Allow me." and like that he is bending down and extending one long arm to snag up the cigarette and curl it into his fist-which is jammed back into a pocket. "I was just remarking to Lady Evey about my stay in one of your wonderful." A glance back to the percent. "Hotels.." The joke there-he does not stay on it long. "Wonderful facilities." added over his shoulder before he glances back to the Orelle in question.

"Is all well with you, my Lady? An enjoyable day-thus far?" Eyes flick back down as he reaches out with boot, to toe away left over ash. The knight's attire is plain for a noble. Dark pants blooming from tall boots. A dark maroon hooded tunic, and a leather jacket completes his ensemble for the day. Maybe plain wasn't right…

"Indeed I was. Parts for our energy harvesters." Evey holds up her parcel. "And things are indeed going well this morning, my Lady, thanks for asking." The Dalton's smile is polite and maintained during Luke's motions, even during his cleaning up of his own cigarette. Then, her datapad is going off. "Forgive, my Lady, my Lord Sir. Maintenance waits for no Havenite…" She bows again before turning and giving Luke a smirk and head shake as she slowly preps to make her way off.

There's a slight shift in Rozlyn's features. Perhaps a twitch at the edge of her lips? Overall, she remains unmoved by Luke's words, save for following his gestures and gaze. The noblewoman takes in the security offices and there is a soft exhale of breath as she comes back to focus on him. There is a bit of a nod as he tends to the cigarette and ash- appreciation. It is her family's station, afterall. One must care for their home… at least to an extent.

"Well, provided all your needs were tended to over the course of your stay." Who says the Orelle scientist doesn't have a sense of humor? Rozlyn does look past Luke to Evey, tilting her head slightly. "I do hope it is only a small matter, Lady Evey. Should you have need of a specialized crew, please send word and we will ensure everything is repaired to optimum operating capacity."

Sadly, for Rozlyn if an inch or even a centimeter is given it serves as fuel to whatever fire burns already inside of Luke Grantham. Luckily-for her, he misses the twitch of her lips as he is busy catching up cigarette and such. A glance up and there's a faint smirk given as his own paper dry chuckle issues out. "I have to say they were. Fine amenities-though I wouldn't recommend it to you, Lady Rozlyn. I think you'd prefer something a bit more…" Sterile "Comfortable-less glaring lights and smelly men." added before he is looking back towards Evey. A bow of his head and a little wave of a free hand before he is looking back to Rozlyn-which leaves her as the sole focus for Luke.

"May I escort you, wherever it is you're going? Unless, you enjoy loitering outside of the Jail-we can do that as well as time dictates."

"Well, I shall have to operate on your review of the experience. I cannot say I have ever had a need, or interest, in knowing what a night's stay within the holding cells is like." Okay, so her sense of humor isn't perfect. In fact, it barely operates as one would hope. Rozlyn glances to her tablet and dims the surface, tucking it against her chest in a smooth gesture of her arm.

"I was on my way for a light meal. You are welcome to escort me, should you wish, Lord Luke. Though…" Dark brown eyes sweep once along the length of the Grantham. "I would imagine you desire to bathe and find fresh attire."

"If you would like a quote, I am sure I could write something for the Ring's editorial? I know some are always looking for that niche place to stay." Luke adds with a faint smirk. "Or should you ever need a test subject, on the matter I could spare you the theorem et cetera." With the arm out, both eyebrows raise-apparently he did not expect her to do such. Still he takes the arm, and looks back to her. "Please, call me Luke" ever a Grantham he doesn't stand much on his laurels, or inherent titles.

"Then, Lady Rozlyn, escort you I shall-where exactly, am I taking you for your meal?" a glance down and then he looks back to her. "Are you saying where we are going only takes black tie-or that perhaps I might smell like the fish of the day? I assure I feel somewhat refresh and I would hate to cause you to miss lunch."

"I… do not foresee a need for those things, but thank you nonetheless." If someone offers an escort, Rozlyn is going to take it to mean after a proper fashion. A Knight escorting a member of his Paramount? She should be led in the right means. Certainly, it's archaic after a fashion, but perhaps Rozlyn just likes seeing how people handle such things. "Of course, Sir Luke." He's not escaping a title that easily. Titles allow Rozlyn to keep things arranged and sorted.

"I admit, I had not decided. However, there is a cafe not far that may serve the purpose." She glances sidelong at the Grantham, brow furrowing. "Neither of those and I apologize if I inferred as such."

"Good." Luke says, with a slight nod-before he is dutifully taking arm, and escorting the woman onward. hand folded over her arm, rather more official, than in a caring or forward gesture. Apparently, Luke has had some lessons in this-and can perform quite well when put up to the task. "I know the place, Lady Rozlyn." And he lay's on.

"Oh, come now, Roz." so easily does the Grantham slip out of title and practice-apparently boxes aren't for him. "I know I can't be in the best shape for escorting a Lady" he emphasis with a smirk in her direction. "Still-I would not accuse you of doing such. Please, do not take my teasing seriously."
The flinch at the usage of a diminutive of her name is something Rozlyn cannot hide. She's not an actress nor good at dissembling; her standard emotional front simply /is/ a facet of her being. The woman draws in a slow breath, nostrils flaring. Keeping her calm, like as not. It smacks strongly of a meditative move a martial artist may use.

"My apologies, Sir Luke. It can be difficult to know when a member of the peerage has decided to take insult or is attempting to start up banter."
Oh there's a glance as his grin shines at the flinch. A bit of a chuckle before he is nodding in that step. "Careful, my dear Lady, breathe.." and then he looks back while side stepping a pedestrian, ever careful in his guiding way. "It takes a lot to insult me, Lady Rozlyn" and like that he is back into the right usage of titles and formality. "-I have a skin as thick as a ramship's hull. Besides, I've heard enough poor insults that the good ones are more than amusing."

A glance back. "What are you working on?"

Though the chuckle may make Rozlyn bristle deep within, she's able to retain her calm on the surface. Her motions are precise; there's no awkwardness in the way she moves with Luke's lead. The woman is graceful, that much is certain. Like everything else, her movements are precise, but these have… a flowing nature to them.

"I will keep that in mind, Sir Luke, should I ever find myself with a need to provide insult."

"I am sure something will crop up." Luke adds with a chuckle, before he is glancing back as one eyebrow is raised. "Can I compliment you, or might that shatter the lacquer, you've put up this morning?" Without missing a beat or a pause to let Rozlyn either say yes, or no the knight presses on. "You are quite graceful. At the last wedding I attend, I think I was escorting a Larent-maybe it was one of the Daltons. I don't remember-distant relations and all that.." he rambles on before he's suddenly jerking Rozlyn into a different lane of traffic. "But they moved as if they had cubes for feet. Actual cubes. As if a goat was put in a fucking dress and made to go around the fair without eating anything.."

Odd analogy, but it is there. "I noted you didn't answer my question..Shall I guess?" Amusement in the knights voice as he looks back to the Lady Orelle.

"The lacquer?" Rozlyn's own eyebrow quirks, the question placed simply… yet there is a hint of curiousity. The insults provided to others to provide compliment to her… earns a more level expression within the woman's mien. "Not all have the benefit or interest in the training I have. I cannot say I am a talented dancer, Sir Luke, but my father insisted all of his children learn self-defense. Unlike most of my siblings, I found time on the mats to be good for centering and keeping focus." So there is one place, perhaps, that she… "lets loose," as it were.

"You may guess if you wish. I would be interested to see what you assume of my studies."

"Your shell-shield. What you put up. We all have our mechanisms. Mine are perhaps more base than yours. Not as sleek or polished.." Luke says as he keeps moving, though now he is stopping and looking back to her. "I only know how to dance, per the usual lessons that come with being a noble. I must admit-my father pushed me for more martial sports." a half grin there, before he is nodding as there, making a hole to lead the lady on.

"That is good to know, Lady Rozlyn. I am currently training another knight-an Arboren in the uses of hand to hand combat-perhaps sometime, should you wish we could find time to ah." a chuckle "Grapple." A glance back there. "That is, if you'd want to spar. I can say I don't know many of the Naval techniques and how they differ from what I learned in the Legion."

"Ah. Shell-shield. Not a term I have heard before. I am not certain it is something I… put on, as you say." For Rozlyn, it has become a second nature. In the way some may smile when nervous, or make jokes to break the ice… she keeps her emotions locked far and deep away. It aids the clinical approach. "I find most noble gatherings to be dull affairs, full of preening and attempts to curry favor. You learn little of use."

Rozlyn does move through the opening provided as the flow of people ebbs and adjusts. "I am always open to new sparring partners, Sir Luke. I find the variety keeps me on my toes. One cannot learn if they do not open themselves to new experiences."

Luke nods. "Well there's something we both agree on. I like the drinks though-the drinks are good-though the dancing is not what I would consider dancing.." A shrug, but it does not nearly raise itself to be much of a shrug. Like a shifting of wings. "I don't see the point of many things, but I guess in their own way they provide order to our lives." Once to the cafe, the walk stops, and now the knight raises a brow. "Do you prefer to eat alone, or would you rather have company?"

"Well then, let's schedule a time to spar. I enjoy having my abilities tested." And then he holds up one hand. "My lady, I forgot something."

"I find the volume I would drink is often at odds with the volume I am expected to drink." It's a vague thing, but that could be said for a lot of how Rozlyn operates and the ways she speaks. It's not quite double-speak, but it comes damn close. She tilts her head slightly at the inquiry, considering. "I am not inclined one way or the other. If you are attempting to find your way into a meal, you may certainly join me."

But then he's holding up his hand and Rozlyn is disengaging. "I would hope you are not missing your internment already, Sir Luke. Perhaps we can schedule a spar, yes, though I do warn that I keep to a strict schedule. I would not take well to being cancelled on should you find yourself within the care of The Ring's security once again."

The knight snorts, before he is waving a hand. "I find that, the drunker I get, the more enjoyable a party can be. You should try it sometime-it can be quite fun." As for the other he offers a faint grin back "I am attempting to be courteous to someone I only know of-and now have had a chance to talk with." A tilt of his head. "If I could tell if you were happy for my company, it'd make this easier-as I cannot. I will just guess and go with it."

And he is moving to get the door-somewhat of a gentleman even if he doesn't dress the part. He does pause in the doorway. "No-my cell mate and I-though close are no longer on speaking terms, sadly." A shake of his head as he would at least step in behind her. "I meant, I forgot to say what I thought you studied-I can tell already it's not people."

For the second there's a smirk and the threat of teeth showing. "Cancel our date? Oh, please. I would not miss it for the world…"

"You already made your reputation well clear, Sir Luke. I am somewhat certain that were you to not engage in some form of drunken revelry, there would be concern that you may be ill." Rozlyn gestures to the host at the cafe with two fingers. Enough to ensure a table is found, but nothing to interrupt their conversation. The woman blinks at Luke for a moment. "If I took issue with your company, Sir Luke, we would not be speaking still yet. As to whether I am happy or not, I cannot say."

Translation: he's at least a mild curiosity for the moment. "No, I do not study people," she continues, following the gestures of the host towards a table within the establishment. It's a nice place, but not overly so. A good location for a casual meal. "The date of our martial training has not been set as of yet, Sir Luke. It would be quite a feat to cancel it already."

"Had I?" Luke responds with a brief stare, before he is chuckling softly and letting the door close behind him. "It is a good thing, that you are a doctor- I am sure you could diagnose what it was, save." And there he is looking back to Rozlyn. "You don't study Medicine. So you don't study behaviors of people per-say the noble pursuit of Medicine…" As the table is found, the knight does move to step ahead of Rozlyn-reaching out to draw a chair for her, and wait.

"You study patterns, I would guess-am I warm?" and like before he continues on. "No-not patterns. Let me guess-one final guess?" And now he actually waits. He won't expound further. " I've been known to surprise myself, my lady-and for now, I will say you are: Happy."

"I am not one for gossip and tabloids, but I do keep tabs on what goes on in the vassals. My elder brother is often busy in matters of war, so I do what I can to support him." Rozlyn's features do shift into one of mild surprise as the Crow offers the chair for her. She restrains herself back to offer him a tilt of her head in a small nod of appreciation as she sits.

"Patterns is a very astute way to put it, Sir Luke. I am surprised." Rozlyn, however, does not go beyond that either. No, she's waiting to see if he can pinpoint the matter. "Am I? Happy, that is. Well, I suppose it is a good thing that someone is aware of my own personal emotions."

"Someone should be." Luke responds. "Everyone should have someone that they can talk to, or at least can read them. It keeps us honest and accountable." Once she is seated he would push her in carefully, before moving to sit on the opposite side of her. Hands on the table, as he reaches for a menu to let his eyes move over it casually.

"You study patterns in the manner that you study-matter, space. Where we are going and where we have been." a flick of eyes up. "You are a physicist." and there his own wry grin shows. "Some of us vassals keep tabs on what goes on with our Paramount." Unless he was totally wrong. Which has been known to happen.

"Honesty and accountability are in rather short supply, I have found." Rozlyn reaches for a menu herself, after lightly setting her tablet down. Her gaze over the thing is primarily for the current specials; seems she visits this particular establishment often enough to know the rest of the menu.

Dark eyes don't rise, but a slow smile does tug at the corners of her lips. "I am surprised, Sir Luke. I would have thought you too caught up in your own dealings to know left from right in the realm of politics. Yes, a physicist. Astrophysics, to be precise."

A smile shows as the Crow bobs his head, but once. "I agree. " Eyes continue to flit down the menu, until something is found and he glances then briefly back to her tablet. "I've only had the coffee here, how are their soups?" a harmless enough question before he catches the smile. His own shows a bit further as if he was letting his cards down in a game

"As vain glorious as I might appear. I would think it might disappoint you, to let you know that I don't care for my own dealings-nor am I excited to make further stories on my exploits." A glance is given to a waiter, to motion him over, as they are ready-it seems. "But-there are some things outside of what pursuits I do carry on about that I pay attention to." And now as the waiter arrives he asks. "Why astrophysics?"

"In my experience, their soups are good. Though I would recommend the chowder. The season is right for it." Rozlyn sets her own menu aside, folding hands lightly on the surface of the table as she awaits the server for taking their order. "I will have the salad special, with a small cup of the daily soup." Which, as it so happens, is a chowder.

"Interesting. Yet, I witness you departing the security office. So you do not care for your dealings, yet you allow them to continue?" Rozlyn tilts her head slightly, considering his question. Rather than answer, she offers one of her own in turn: "Why become a Knight?"

"I am a human, Lady-That means I am complicated and messy." A glance there, before he looks over to the Waiter. "I'll have your chowder-and half of a Orellian dip?" sandwich and soup ordered he is back to the focus of the discussion. "It's as if I go out-not looking to cause what trouble I do, but it still comes on. Like putting on an old coat-I could stop change coats, but I like the feel of my old one. It's known to me." Luke concludes before he shifts in his seat.

"That was a choice made for me. But, I do not regret it. Being a knight is what has formed me to the man I am today-though I will say I am a better acclimated to battle. Forged for it."

"Precisely the reason I do /not/ study people, Sir Luke. They never fit into an expected or proper order of operations." Rozlyn straightens slightly, adjusting the cant of her chin. "One does not learn by only sticking by what they know. If the comfort gains you further discomfort, then it is not comfort true." She's not good at this advice thing.

"Well, I made the choice to study science. Had my father led all of my decisions, I would likely be in much the same position as my brother, Cedric. While I find our ships to be useful, I am glad to not be spending large amounts of time upon them."

"Sometimes, learning comes in the experience lived and the action taken, even if repetitious." Luke says with a faint smile, before he is leaning back in his seat. He's very quiet for a moment, before he adds. "Do any of us know true comfort?" Philosophy, a subtle love of the knight.

The Crow nods, before he offers a wry grin. "I have made my own decisions since then, but when one is born to be a knight and doesn't know it. You get remolded. Which, I guess is what the Legion is about. Taking the unwanted and making it what is needed?" If he had a drink he would salute then and drink, however he's left looking ineffectually at the table.

"For what it is worth, I am glad I am not ship side either. I am perfectly happy using ways and my feet."

"True comfort? I do not think we do, as the definition differs from person to person." Rozlyn tilts her head somewhat, all the same; curious. "How often do you intend to repeat stints within a holding cell before you learn?"

"The Legion serves its purpose well in that regard, from what I have seen. Some do require to be molded, yes. The combative life is not an easy one and I have just barely witnessed what those on the front lines face. It is a path I respect and honor."

"So you respect and Honor me?" Luke asks with a faint grin. There's a brief pause before he is shaking his head with a bit of a laugh. "I will write that down in my journal tonight." And then as the drinks arrive, Luke is quick to snag up his coffee. Blowing on it before taking a sip.

"I don't ever plan on repeating cell stays. I try to avoid it-sometimes though-one cannot avoid all the time." A lean back "Much like a common cold."
Did her eye just twitch? Possibly. "Have you served on the front lines? Because perhaps I do, though I am not sure it is… anything to write home about." He just mentioned having a journal. There's something funny about that, but Rozlyn is saved having to either try to smile, laugh, or make a joke by the arrival of coffee. The woman tilts her head slightly in appreciation before glancing back towards Luke.

"Perhaps you should put some focus into figuring out the reasons you continue to find yourself in those situations. Might assist in stopping them entirely."

Luke grins, and a finger points. Apparently, someone caught that. "I have. I am not some play boy who merely hangs about in the background collecting honor from tournaments. I serve and I break lines." he adds before pointing to his black eye. "That is how I lost this." and then another sip of coffee.

There's a thoughtful look on Luke's face before he chuckles into his cup. "Perhaps I should, but then life is short-I've already died once. I'd like my second to mean something." And food arrives. "Shall we enjoy our chowder?"

There's a glance up to the eye that's gestured at. Rozlyn seems somewhat… appeased? by this. She dips her head in a slight nod. "I have only recently witnessed battle directly. I can say, with honesty, that I did not know what to expect. Certainly not in a proper fashion." Perhaps his honesty has brought forth some in herself, though it's still a very calculated bit to be shared.

"Life is short. There is no reason to waste it within a holding cell." She shifts, adjusting for the plates and bowls brought. "Certainly."

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