| Details for Hazing At the Dog and Bone |
| Summary: | Niamh and Gideon finally show their faces at the Dog and Bone again, and get a heaping helping of friendly ribbing for being more preoccupied with each other than with the pub. |
| Date: | November 9, 1937 |
| Location: | Dog and Bone Pub |
| Related: | — |
| Characters |
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The Dog and Bone Pub, East End London
The Dog & Bone, a classic public house that has sat nestled in among the shops and residences of the Borough for countless years. Stepping inside is a bit like a portal to the past, as one is immediately surrounded by stone and mortar walls, thick wooden beams and rafters, and the hazy scent of pipe smoke and cinders from the large, wood-burning fireplace that warms the building. A handful of tables leave little room for walking in the cramped space, though most of the patrons tend to crowd around the wrap-around bar on the wall opposite the hearth. The only open space is a collection of mismatched chairs and sofas, close enough to be warmed by the fire, and turned to face one corner of the room, where a tiny stage rises six inches above the floor.
It's been awhile since Niamh's stepped foot in the Dog and Bone; no telling how long it's been for Gideon, though the amount of ribald ribbing the man gets the moment the Scot walks in the door should be some indication. Comments ranging from the 'understanding' that a soft bit of 'alright' can trump (sometimes) going to the pub and having a pint or two to offering up skeleton keys to unshackle the man from his ball and chain and everything in between makes Niamh blush crimson at times. She does manage to keep some poise, however, offering retorts.. when she can find her voice in the laughter and amusement. It's all in good fun, truly, and she knows it. Her own bit of self-defense does little to keep the comments from coming- she encouraged Gideon to come out without her? What fool of a man would leave her home alone to come out drinking with such an ugly lot as they?
Finally, the comments begin to settle down, and Niamh finds her way to the couch; if Gideon wants to get their ales, that's fine! Not to mention a couple of brief conversations at the bar.. 'what's new?' 'all quiet?' is offered. It's warm within, both in feel and in atmosphere, and she really doesn't mind the couple of moments, setting her skirt right, and crossing her legs, hazel eyes looking around the place, her smile in place, easy and genuine.
Gideon chuckles in calm amusement at the hazing. "Alright, laddies, alright. Keep it clean. I've got my lady with me." That, of course, draws all manner of schoolyard "ooooohs" and further jibes. He can't even bring himself to glare at them. These are his mates, and they know him too well to be intimidated over something like this. He waves them off, carrying two ales over to the couch. After passing one off to Niamh, he unslings the guitar from his shoulder, propping it against the wall on the tiny stage. That's for later. For now, he sits by his love, putting an arm around her. "They're good laddies. They mean it all in good fun."
Niamh watches her gentleman, how he handles the teasing, and for those few moments, there's only he in her world. When he's finally out and around, and headed back to the couch, she raises a hand to take the ale, cradling the bottom to support it. Her smile warms even more as she's joined, and curls easily under his arm. "Aye, I know.. an' I told ye they'd give ye cain if ye stayed away too long. Only so much I can do to back ye on it." But she's got his back! See?! She takes the first sips of her ale and licks her upper lip of the froth, "Ye need this night out.. an' after not too long, ye will realize it too." Squirming so she's got a better 'fit' under his arm, she's forgotten her toast, and makes it now, "Sláinte.."
Gideon nestles her close, craving the warmth of her against him. He clinks his mug to hers, "Fáilte," and takes a swig. "I do realize it. Not that I terribly mind the alternative." He smirks at her, keeping his voice low. The last thing he needs is to give his mates more ammunition.
See now, the soft tenor of the Scots accent is enough to make Niamh squirm a little more as she rests her cheek against him once the toast is concluded. "An' don't think for a second I'd toss ye out the door if ye didn't want to go," she returns, hazel eyes canted up to see those blue. "An'.." she has to turn away and take a swallow of her ale, "I have t'stop thinkin' about that, or I'll be out the door again.. an' your mates'll hoot at my back." He must know, she's sure he knows what he does to her! "Are ye goin' to do a new song tonight?"
Gideon lifts his brow as he takes a sip. "A new song? I dinnae have anything prepared, really. Thought I might go with some old stand-bys. The boys like them, anyhow." He tilts his head at her. "Why…did you have something in mind? I could always drag you on stage with me."
Niamh shakes her head, and takes another draught of the ale. It's so nice, being out and about.. and comfortable. "Can't think o'one.. but 'Henry Martin'? Don't know if they'd ever heard that one, an'.. don't worry. It's not an Irish song.." That last bit is given with an impish smile. "So.. won't get us in any trouble." Unlike some of the other songs she knows. "I like that one."
Gideon smiles, nodding. "Aye, I know it. Will you sing it with me?" He lifts his mug, chuckle, "After we drink, of course." Liquid courage is needed to face the teasing of this crowd, tonight!
Niamh looks at her glass; liquid courage indeed! Looking up again, she beams, her features brightening, "Aye, I will.. after we finish the first.. or should we try for a second?" Her tones lower so only he can hear, and they carry that light-heartedness; a merriment in the Irish lilt. "Might be best after a whiskey an' a scotch. But, from the looks of 'em, they might let us pass. I know they won't let us go home without more insult heaped upon us."
Gideon chuckling, rubbing her arm affectionately. "Ohhh, dinnae take insult, love. They know I'll give as good as I get. And now they know you will, too." He smirks proudly at her. That's right, boys. Go ahead and try to verbally joust with an Irishwoman. Good luck!
Oh, she's fine with insult being heaped upon her! And yes, Niamh will happily give it in return, and with her Irish lilt, and the sweet smile that is tagged along with it, it's hard to take her to task as being 'unlady-like'! That smile grows to a grin and she leans forward and twists around to give him a kiss on his shaven cheek (that is now newly sprouting little whiskers). "With ye beside me, I'd take all, an' come out on the other side gladly." The ale, then, is attended, and she takes it with a couple more sips, not quite finishing it. "They're a right good group of mates," she continues, "ones one day that'll give me a nod an' a pass, or attention if I'm tryin' to track ye down for aught." Assuming they're together, of course!
Gideon looks over at the bar where the men are gathered, nodding to several who happen to catch his glance. "They are, and I think they'd already give you anything you needed, love. They like you, and they ken how important you are to me." He leans over to give her lips a soft, quick kiss. "I'd do the same for any of their wives…as frightening as some of them are."
Niamh beams again, the kiss leaving a warm tingling on her lips. "What, their wives are frightenin'?" she teases. "I can only imagine, if they're pickin' on ye for not joinin' them here." Beat. "Misery loves company?" Not nice, Niamh, and she looks briefly apologetic. "Shouldn't be sayin' such things. An' I'll find forgiveness one day for it." One day. She takes a couple more swallows of her ale, and it looks as if that'll be enough for some liquid courage. "Are ye sure ye want me up there with ye? I could gaze at ye from afar, an' pretend you're singin' just to me. Or, we can do it together.. ye and me again' the world."
Gideon grins, pecking another kiss to those lips. "I dinnae see why we cannae do both. You join me, and I show you off on stage. Then I'll sing to you. Fuck everyone else." He smirks apologetically for the harsh language. But it's the way of things here at the Dog and Bone.
There are a couple of hoots from the bar at the second kiss given to the pretty Irish lass, and one yells, 'My turn, Giddy!' before another echoes. "I'll not let ye kiss him. He's mine," comes Niamh's retort, trying all the world to sound an Irish shrew, but it's obvious put-on. That brings laughs from the bar and nods, a pint raised. "Ye two deserve t'other.." before the man calls out to the ginger Scot. "Does she have a sister, then?" and, "Teddy's not on t'night, Gid.. ye and your bir- lass gonna take it?"
Niamh laughs at the language, and nods. She's got the apology; she's getting better at reading those eyes.. and sounds a certain tone. "Sounds good. We sing, then I get your attentions.." The last word is more.. murmured. He's been doing it to her all night, so payback is a .. harsh mistress!
Gideon laughs at the banter between Niamh and the boys. Yes, indeed, she can handle herself just fine here. He join in a bit of the back and forth, interspersed with touches of affection for Niamh, until they've gone through one…and a second round of ales. Sufficiently tipsy, he takes Niamh by the hand to drag her up on stage with him. As he picks up the guitar, several men from the bar start filtering over, filling the spots on the couches and chairs. Once it becomes evident that Gideon's "bird" is going to be singing as well, the bar near-empties, and it's standing room only around the little corner stage. Gideon chuckles, "I think they have us penned in, love."
Niamh's happy to be back at the pub, at a place outside what is rapidly becoming 'their' home where he can truly relax, the lines of stress fading from his face. She loves seeing it, and woe to anyone who might disturb that peace! She laughs at the banter, the back and forth, her own two pence put into the mix before both sides offer something of an unspoken truce in preference to the ale that flows. She's got her second, and she's probably a little more tipsy than Gideon. Rising a little wobbily from the couch, she joins him on the little stage, little more than a dais, hand in hand. She has to let go, and only does when he takes up the guitar, and looking out now, she can see the lads leaving the bar to come and listen. A deep breath is taken, and she nods rapidly, "I think so.. an' when we're done, I'll go left, an' ye go right.. an' we'll meet in the center behind 'em?"
Gideon barks a laugh, "Aye. We'll break their lines and flank them before they realize what's happened." A few of the men chuckle and start forming ranks to prevent any such escape. He settles on the stool, guitar propped on his thight, and strums out the first few notes of "Henry Martin," looking to Niamh with an indicative nod.
"Aye.. I can take 'em.." Niamh grins, and she watches them forming their ranks. Letting out a theatric sigh, she takes a step back, and puts a hand on Gideon's shoulder. As he begins to strum, she takes her notes from there and begins to sing at the nod, her own head bobbing gently at the base string as it's plucked, taking the tempo, "There were three brothers in merry Scotland, in merry Scotland there were three.. and they cast a lot as to who would go, would go, would go.. an' turn robber all on the salt sea.."
Gideon picks up the song with her on the second verse, joining his voice to hers. They have a natural harmony, and her Irish lilt forms an interesting blend with his Scottish brogue. The men are enchanted. Not that Adamantus or Niamh are master performers by any stretch, but that's not the sort of music people come to the Dog and Bone for. Here, they want pure, raw soul, and that's something these two can provide. Having a lovely female voice added to the mix is a rare treat for them. When the song finally ends, after the light applause and kind words, Gideon gives her a squeeze, and pats her bottom right there in front of everyone! He gestures to the bloke on the couch where Niamh was previously sitting. "Benny, move your arse and give the lady her seat back. I want to sing to her. You tossers can stay and listen if you like, but fuck if I care." That earns some hearty chuckles, and a few friendly insults back at Gideon.
Niamh's in her own world, one shared with that lovely tenor beside her. Harmonies rise and fall and meet, and at the end of the song, she smiles a little shyly at her boyfriend, her lover, and only squeaks when he pats her on the bum! A small hop is added, and she laughs, "Adamantus, ye cad.." Promises! She bobs her head at the applause, belatedly, and moves off the stage to get back to her spot on the couch. Waiting for Benny to move, she turns about and grins at her man, her retort to one of the many good-natured jibes, "You're just jealous ye didn't think to sing with him so he'd grab your bum.." Now, though, she settles down, wrigging into her seat to get comfortable.
Gideon's eyes are for Niamh alone now. He meant it when he said he couldn't care less if the men stayed. But stay, they do. Most of the, anyhow. Even the manly, blue-collar Muggles turn rather soft in the face of Gideon's adoration. Many know that he had a wife once, and the ache his heart has felt. So perhaps they are simply glad to see their mate happy again. His fingers dance over the strings, and he begins an Irish ballad that he's not sung before. It may be that he was telling a fib about having nothing new prepared. The song is about two lovers who must cross a wide river to be with one another, and in the end, climb into a single boat to be swept away to the ocean together. When the final chords are struck, the light clapping from the men might as well be a thousand miles away. He sees only her.
They might as well be a world away as far as Niamh is concerned. She knows the song, and she hums it gently, softly, listening to her love sing it to her. She mouths, whispers the words of the lovers so far apart, and as they come together, her own smile reflects the joys. Hazel eyes gleam with adoration, her head quirked to the side. As the music begins to fade, she certainly isn't left dry-eyed. There's tears, but not sadness.. it's the knowledge that she'd get into that boat willingly if it was he, and take it where ever it would take them.. together. She wipes at her eyes, and rises to go to the small stage again, and leans to kiss his lips gently, lovingly. "T'was beautiful," is whispered, "and no tale has ever been better told than that. I'll hold it in my heart until time passes away."