[ P ] soldier's eyes

Well, this was humbling. A second time he got handily pinned down by a young Highlander. "Good show, keep it up." he admitted his defeat freely, grunting as he pulled himself up. He could give advice now and then, but even so it would seem securing a win was no easy feat. Then again, Grigori was far from the best condition he'd ever been in. His recent schedule and sleeping trouble were taking a toll. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, hoping it would lessen his headache.

He should pull himself together before the next battle, but.. if only it was as easy as simply willing it.

Opening his eyes once more, the cowboy focused on his sparring partner. He recognized the dark-furred youth from the second battlefield, the one where Cathal had been captured. It still frustrated him that he'd been too late there.. but at least his presence there seemed to cause enough of a distraction for the others to get away before the Imperials overwhelmed them. "I'm goin' to the canteen to unwind. Ye comin' with?" He's learned to be more casual with the Highlanders after having fought alongside them, he no longer felt so much like an outsider despite being a foreigner. Maybe it was camaraderie, maybe shared losses.. maybe just loneliness. But despite it all, he didn't wait long for the boy to make up his mind before he started to walk towards the bar. His routine was too busy to wait on anyone, and whether he joins or not, it makes no difference in Grigori's plans for tonight.

The canteen had a cozy atmosphere, with a number of soldiers already inside, trying to relax after their duties. The chatter wasn't as lively as before the war began, though - they'd lost the first act, after all. Grigori approached the barkeep, greeting him with a nod. "The usual, with mint." As much as he didn't want to admit it, he's been drinking often enough these days that such a statement was perfectly clear. Then, he glanced towards Coal, and added "His is on me, too." A win counts for something, after all.

„*”

His victory was nothing to ring around the territory, it was a friendly spar and a reminder that all too soon they would likely be fighting for their lives against mainlander filth rather than comrades. Good show, keep it up. while the sound of anything but his tongue left a cringey ache in his ears, the sound of a compliment was enough to cover it up. Ceruleans washed over the man he wasn't quite yet familiar with, watching as his frame rose from the dirt beneath him. That was his reward, his eyes on stocky and and strapping fella he would consider a comrade- for the time being. Coal himself lingered, as did the other man before him. Hues fixated in on the composer-or what he assumed it to be- being drawn in by the man. The golden chalice before him was all too enticing, he couldn't be drawn from him. Until, smokey eyes met his observing spectacles of blue, snapping him slowly from his focus. He remained calm, contained his usual swagger he coated himself with.

"I'm goin' to the canteen to unwind. Ye comin' with?" the boy shook his head to one side, the cantee-- his question was cut all too short as the man already turned and made his way to the canteen he assumed. His limbs would fold out in front of him, stretching the already worked muscles out before following after him. Ahead of them was a tavern, where he would usually hear chants and curses and drunken slurs, tongues thrown together in a mixing pot, though the native tongue was most disguinushed. But this go round, it wasn't as rowdy, passion was nailed shut into its coffin by grief and likely defeat. His plume would still sway as he strode in along side the Golden bear. Service was rather quick, but from the order of the man, it was likely expected for him to be here. "His is on me, too.". His lips parted, but he held his tongue- almost wanting to indulge the minty usual Grigori had ordered. But, he far more at ease drinking the safer option: Ale, heaviest you've got. he would settle in next to the man, though faced him, rather than the bar. Pray tell, duais òir (golden prize), how did you find yourself on Jacob's path- against the scum of the southern territories? it was likely all the rigorous questioning and suspicions were already put to bed by any who came across those who weren't already hgihlanders, but Coal himself was curious.

table ; bunny

It is easy to remain unaware of what one is not expecting. As such, so far Grigori was completely unaware of how eagerly the fellow soldier's baby blue eyes lingered on his body. In habit, he still was a married man - not seeking attention, and not searching for appeal in others. However, that too might have not been obvious - during their fight, he'd been watching the younger's wolf every move very carefully.

The lad's order put a faint smile on his lips. "Hard fighter and hard drinker, eh?" At a rather young age, no less. Truly a hardy bunch, these Highlanders. When his drink landed on the bar counter - a mix of ginger wine, mint and whisky - Grigori downed it immediately. The alcohol warmed his throat and numbed his tongue, only barely letting the faint mint aftertaste break through. But it lingered long, and that's what mattered. "Again." There was no time to dawdle.

The question piqued the cowboy's attention, not for its subject, but for the two Gaelic words thrown in the middle. Grigori didn't have the faintest idea what they meant, but by their position in the sentence he could tell they were used to address him. Just like Aryth used to do, although with different words. Overall, there was only the faintest concept of resemblance in it, but it was enough to make his ears swivel, then, almost subconsciously, turn his head to intently look at the young Highlander, smoke eyes studying his features in search of intent behind those two words.

"Ceartas... no, ana-ceartas." he said, after some deliberation. The attempt didn't sound right with his drawl, and he almost said the opposite thing to what he wanted... but he's been trying to learn. It was a token of respect that the Highlanders deserved. "Sorry, I'm no good at it." the cowboy added, his smile turning apologetic. "When I came to this land, I first settled in Melrose. Later, I worked in Rionna. But that ended abruptly. He had no intention of getting into more detail than that.

There was a time, not too long ago, when he would have disagreed with collectively calling the Imperials scum. He knew that there are good wolves there. But now... he also knew there was at least one for whom 'scum' was too kind of a word. It was better to just have a simple conversation. "What 'bout ye?" For an army with no draft and no official recruitment, Jacobites had a surprising amount of young wolves. Cathal wanted to prove himself and claimed that the Highlanders' way of life isn't respected elsewhere. Is it the same for this one?

„*”

"Hard fighter and hard drinker, eh?" he would give a quick chuckle before his lips parted, watching the man as his own drink came to him. As if it were water and someone was coming to steal it, the man of gold swallowed it in haste. The boy felt obligated to do the same, not wanting to fall behind. He would snag the attention of the barkeep before they took off to grab the man's next drink. Then, smoke would flood his pools of blue, a glare intent on searching for an answer of sorts, perhaps. Coal would only grin and laugh at the attempt to twist his tongue into the language of the territory.

He would let himself savor his next drink, his face turning to Grigori as he inhaled. the aroma of the beer and liquor they both held, mint, and a smokey tint would chase one another's around infront of his snout. He savored that, too. Do not be sorry, most tend to butcher the tongue. the man would reveal part of his identity, showing himself to be a man from the outsides-not from the country at all. And he was putting his life at risk for it? Usually, he would insult and instigate the outsiders. But this one, he could only admire in his mind.

A Ghaidheil, a highlander, tried and true. on that ending, he would swallow yet another drink, whilst simultaneously waving for another to come. Tell me, Outlander, what encourages you to fight under Jacob?

table ; bunny

Well, it would seem his attempt was at the very least decent enough to recognized as what it was meant to be. "Yeah, it's pretty hard." he chuckled at the other's reassurance, before turning to take care of his refilled drink. A double dose was starting to have an effect, the blonde brute sighing contentedly as the burning warmth has made his head feel a little lighter... but he could definitely go for a third. He nodded at the barkeep, but his eyes were already turning back to Coal again. "I'll keep on learnin', though." His words were light at first, but by the end of the sentence he was holding back a sigh. He never would have believed he could learn such things.. if he hadn't met Aryth.

The third round washed down that thought, and for the moment, the cowboy was satiated. He twisted himself in his seat to face the fellow warrior again, finding it easier to engage with his company now. His ears folded back at being referred to as an outlander, and he smiled apologetically, realizing that he hasn't introduced himself yet. "Name's Grigori. And, well..." He mulled over his answer for a moment, then snorted. It all seemed so absurd to think about while he was enjoying a drink with nice company. "It's an easy choice when the other side wants ye dead." Grigori shrugged. It was unfortunate as he never disliked Adamh, but he and his sons couldn't live comfortably unless the current rule ends. Maybe it was selfish. But if he couldn't tell what was best for the country.. then he could only do what he knew was best for his family.

"It's not everythin', though.." he started, before interrupting himself to briefly turn to the fourth round of his drink, though only for a sip this time. "I do like the Highlands, the way of life here. It feels.. right." It felt worth defending. "And the highlanders themselves, of course." he added, grinning. It was meant to be a friendly, humorous comment... Grigori didn't realize it could be interpreted as a bit more than that, if someone was eager to see it that way. He looked at Coal thoughtfully, recalling their spar step by step, the way the young highlander moved and the strength his muscles contained... "Ye really know how to work a man up.." he muttered... then turned to finish his drink. "Good fight, truly." A brutal end to all the ambiguous things he said.

„*”