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Tazafein Maelyl waved a halfhearted farewell over his shoulder to his colleagues as he took his leave for the day. Recruitment duty was something the officers did in rotation; it was supposed to be a vacation, but Taz hated it. It was tedium heaped atop boredom slathered in ennui, and he was more than ready to be back out in the field. Even training would be more entertaining than... this.

He gave a short sharp whistle to wake his hound, Aya, who was still dead asleep under his desk. Ordinarily the beast was more alert, but it seemed the weight of inactivity was slowing even her agile mind. At his whistle, though, she was up and at his heel without appearing to have crossed the intervening distance, which made the swordsman smile slightly. He rewarded her enthusiasm with a brief rumple of her ears and headed out into the streets.

He was sorely in need of a drink- perhaps the magic of alcohol would blur the grinding tedium of this week enough that it wouldn't be such a drain on his sanity.

The Drunken Doe was one of his favorite establishments when he was in the City of Embers. Their house jhinavael was both potent and delicious, and he could happily make a meal on their sticky buns. Between the two he'd be sick as a dog tomorrow, but it would be worth it, and the thought almost made him smile as he turned a final corner and saw the shingle with it's tongue-in-cheek depiction of a staggering deer and a spilled mug of ale, with the tavern's name painted above in an elegant hand.

He pushed the door open and let the familiar smells and hushed sounds of the place wash over him. The smell of leather and sword oil- the Legion had all but claimed this bar, and it showed. Wine, ale, fine cheese and the unmistakeable scent of yeast bread baking. The ancient stone of the floor had it's own faint odor and caused the quiet voices of the patrons to echo just slightly. It was part of what he loved about the place- after a day amid the many irritations of his job, it was a quiet, safe place to unwind.

He flopped down in his usual seat at the bar and grinned tightly as the barmaid appeared at his elbow almost immediately with a basket of the rolls and a glass of his favorite wine. Yes, it was going to be a fine, peaceful evening. He could already feel the knots in his shoulders starting to unwind.

She was met with a blank green stare, followed by two blinks, then Taz rolled his eyes. He honestly couldn't tell whether he was being threatened or not, but either way he wasn't intimidated.

"Are you lost?" his voice was as gruff as the question, but it was followed by a low whine that made Taz furrow his brow in confusion before the scrabble of claws on stone announced Aya getting up and snuffling the newcomer with great interest and a friendly wag of her tail. Honestly- you'd never guess the mutt was a trained war-hound the way she acted.

Scowling down at the dog, Taz contemplated taking his rolls and moving, but it just seemed like too much effort.

Taz's nose wrinkled slightly in an unconscious imitation of his mother and leaned back as this rather... obnoxious... stranger invaded his face. "Wh... what? No. As a matter of fact I haven't been out of the city in three weeks, thanks for reminding me," he grumbled. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

Aya, unperturbed by her master's tension, attempted to bodily shove her head under this fun new person's hand, hoping for better ear-scritchin's than Taz usually gave unless he was sloshed.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Taz returned to a normal posture, narrowing his eyes a bit at the sudden reversal. Well, the uniform did have that effect on people from time to time. If she'd caught herself, maybe there was hope yet.

"Lieutenant Tazafein Maelyl. But everybody calls me Taz, you may as well too."

Meanwhile, Aya was sitting with her tongue lolling out between white fangs, eyes half-closed in bliss at Umraeva's affection, absentminded though it was.

"Long periods of bordom punctuated by moments of complete terror," he said flatly, then took a long draught of his wine. He had a feeling he was going to need it to get through this conversation.

"Why do you ask?" His eyes flicked up to her hair- granted, he'd never been drilled on how to identify the other noble houses like his brothers, but the Oussarn family's hair was rather distinctive. "I've got a feeling your folks won't be too thrilled about your interest."

A muscle jumped in Taz's jaw and he sighed. "It is, and I do, because in here it's all boredom." He sighed and laid claim to one of his own rolls, munching a bite with perhaps unnecessary vehemence. "At least out there I'm doing something that matters, not busywork. Recruiting... feh."

His nose wrinkled again as he contemplated the stack of paperwork that would doubtless be waiting on him when he went back to the office. He shook his head. He'd done this dance before. She was curious about the Legion, probably wanted to sign up to escape whatever she thought was wrong in her life, but if she was anything like half the people they signed on she'd be crying for her mother inside of a week.

"It's tough work," he elucidated, somewhat against his better judgment. He was half-hoping to talk her out of the course of action he assumed she was contemplating, but... "I've gone the better part of a week without rest, days without food when necessary. And it's dangerous." He traced the bottom point of the scar that crossed his eye with a fingertip. "I've lost more than a few friends," he concluded grimly.

Taz mulled that over with a pursed lip as he took another sip of his wine. "Should you? Maybe. Do you have to? No. Many have talents that remain undiscovered their whole lives, and many more choose not to make use of talents they're well aware of. You don't have to do anything," he pointed out, perhaps a bit callously.

Still, he admired her determination- if grudgingly. But he'd watched many come into the Legion over the years with sparks as bright as hers, only to watch them extinguished by death or too much suffering. It'd be irresponsible of him not to slow her down a little, at least make her consider the facts rather than her fantasy version of life in the Legion.

He looked up at her with an icy glint in his green eyes. "And with all due respect, ma'am, being aware of the danger doesn't mean you understand it. However bad you think it is, whatever travails you imagine you'll endure, I can personally assure you that it will be much, much worse. And once you sign on, once you commit, you're stuck- in the blood, filth, terror, boredom, and suffering- with the rest of us 'till your term of duty is up. But..." he shrugged with a slight smirk directed into his cup. "If you survive, you'll have earned the respect of some of the hardest, most jaded men and women I've ever met, and they'll call you sister. There's much to be said for that. Some might even say it's worth it."

It was to him. The purpose, the sense of belonging- it was all he'd ever wanted and more. A little pain and blood was an easy price to pay.