[LOG] Making the Weyrleader look good.
Who: K'del, P'ax, E'dre, Devan
What: K'del refuses to let Devan pay for his drink. Then he stops refusing. Then P'ax and E'dre scare him away.
Where: Snowasis, HRW. A lot of my logs are taking place here?
When: 4/16/2009
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ)
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
With the sun radiating warmth throughout Reaches, it is rather surprising that any would be located inside. But even now, with summer in full swing, there are a few people that have been drawn into the Snowasis to relax. Though it's only afternoon, there is a rowdy group in the corner, laughing raucously at each others jokes and enjoying their shared pitcher of ale far too much for E'dre's taste. The brownrider has draped himself across one of the armchairs near the hearth. A glass of ale is twirled between his fingers as he glares towards the group. "Shardin' can't get a /bit/ of quiet...," he growls, looking towards the barkeep and signaling he wants a refill.
Despite the warmth of the afternoon, K'del is dressed formally in his riding leathers with a finely made shirt beneath, and even his boots have been polished until they gleam. The young man enters from the Patio Ledge, undoing his jacket as he goes, and heads directly for the bar. The barkeep on duty gives him a searching glance - "Whiskey," says K'del - and the drink is, soon thereafter, poured out for him. He tosses his part-mark onto the counter, and shuts his eyes, before lifting up the shot glass to slam it back.
"I'll get that," says Devan, who came up when he saw the new Weyrleader get his drink. He nudges that part-mark back over to K'del and with the other hand replaces it with his own. And he grins at K'del, salutes him, turns to lean back against the bar on his elbows. "So how's the new gig?"
No refill seems to be coming, so E'dre rolls to his feet and stalks over to the bar. He sets his empty glass down, pushing it forward until it gets noticed and refilled with a mildly reproving glance. K'del's entrance is met with raised brows, especially for the whiskey. He gives the Weyrleader a flippant salute and then sips his ale. Devan's given a once-over look and then he clears his throat. "How 'bout you buy me a shot too, huh?"
K'del's head tilts, and he gives Devan a searching look, disbelief registering around the corners of his eyes, the set of his lips. "No," he says, pushing the other man's mark away again. "Imagine I earn a boatload more than you do, these days, so there's no excuse for me to accept drinks from others." E'dre's comment draws his attention over towards the brownrider, and he adds, "Get E'dre's instead. If you must." The poor bartender looks most confused, but as K'del pushes forward his own coin again, he accepts this, with another wary glance between the group.
It's like someone just told Devan they cancelled his birthday this year. The grin he was wearing fades slowly, more and more the more he realizes just how serious K'del is. There's just something about your Weyrleader denying you, then reminding you he makes more than you do, that just rains all over a guy's parade. "E'dre is--" That guy. Right. "Sure." The corner of his mouth twitches but he doesn't grin again, he just tips his head at the brownrider for the bartender's sake, that one, and turns to stare straight ahead. And then he says something that a big guy like him probably shouldn't say. "That really hurt my feelings."
Thirty seconds into a conversation, if that, and K'del has already stepped in it. Devan's change of expression, followed by what he has to say, draws K'del's own expression into something awkward, rabbit caught in the headlights, entirely uncomfortable. "It did?" It must sound lame even to the bronzerider, because he flinches, as soon as the words are free. "Shells." Not doing any better. "I just... Um. Can I make it up to you? Didn't /mean/ to."
It did? It did. Devan shrugs, rolls his eyes to the side. The /other/ side, even. Ouch. Make it up to him? At first it doesn't look like it, but he does eventually look over at the young bronzerider to present an idea to him. It's genius, really, ready? "You should let me buy you a shot." Which means... another shot.
"You've heard about my reputation with alcohol," accuses K'del, albeit good naturedly; it is relatively well known, it's true, that he's thrown up after winning two separate flights, and that he tends not to drink too much at other times. Probably for that reason. But: "If you like. Can't make my afternoon any less--" Something. He takes a breath, then pushes his empty glass back towards the barkeep, shrugging.
He grins. "I hear a lot o'things." Half-twisting, awkward, Devan makes eyes with the bartender to tell him to make it two and fishes in his pocket for the appropriate marks so he can flip them one at a time onto the bar top. "I promise," he tells K'del when their shots arrive, "you won't get sick." He passes one to the Weyrleader and raises his own. "To a fine, upstanding young fella who's had a damn rough week. Yikes."
"Someone's intent on getting the Weyrleader drunk," E'dre comments from the side, having taken his own Devan-purchased-shot the moment it was poured. He pulls up a barstool and sits, elbow dropping onto the tabletop to allow his hand to support his chin as he listens to the two. "Might as well make a drinkin' game out of this. Whose interested?"
"And some of them may even be true." That's K'del, managing to grin, albeit ruefully. "So long as you're guaranteeing my not-sickness--" His shoulders shrug. "And will explain to Tiriana, should--" But he breaks off from that, shakes his head. He's not going to go down that path, not further than that. He accepts the drink, and raises his towards the other man. "To future weeks being better. Please." E'dre's comment makes him splutter on his drink. "No. Oh. Please. No."
The grin turns sly, tongue tip poking out between his teeth. Oh, he'll explain to Tiriana. They're best friends now, afterall. His shot goes down smoothly. He's done this before. After ridding himself of the glass he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and leans to look down the line at E'dre. "I just made a pretty important promise, involves him /not/ pukin'. We should be tryin' t'make him look good," clap to K'del's back, "not sick." What are friends for?
E'dre brows shoot right up, still in that relaxed slouch against the table. "Please? No? Never heard of someone refusing a drinking game. She's got you that scared?" He lets out a low whistle, head lifting from his hand to shake back and forth. "Shards, and Devan's supporting it! Too bad, too bad. Could've had fun with that one." His attention moves to the 'keep and he flicks his fingers to his shot glass. "I'll have to do it on m'own then." Its poured, downed, and then his ale is given attention. "Puking is for sissies. Get a tolerance up, you'll be fine." So says the would-be-alcoholic.
P'ax ambles in, hands shoved in his pockets, looking distracted for the most part. His eyes scan and catch on a selection of men, eyebrows raising. Ah, well then, there's an interesting group. "Hey, E'dre, Weyrleader-" smirk, "And other man I do not know," he greets the group in turn as he approaches.
K'del straightens his shoulders, slightly, under the weight of the clap to his back, nodding hurriedly as he sets down his glass. "Right. Looking /good/. And no, it's nothing to do with Tiriana. More--" You know, just looking good. He pushes the glass away from him, just in time for P'ax to approach; his expression twitches. "P'ax." Even.
E'dre's single-handed endeavor to get himself drunk is amusing, so Devan grins at him. "Good luck," he wishes, sincerely. K'del ends up on the receiving end of that same grin and gets more brotherly physical contact in the form of a big squeeze to his shoulder. "Devan," he supplies for P'ax, and resumes looking like he's just happy to be here.
E'dre says, "P'ax! Pull up a chair, I was just trying to unsuccessfully get K'del drunk," E'dre's all cheer as he pats the stool beside him. "But, he doesn't want to look sloppy. Despite the fact he and Devan have /both/ started off the afternoon with shots." He shrugs, looking between the two. First back-clapping, now shoulder-squeezing, between Devan and K'del. E'dre's brows pinch together as he stares at the two of them. "Interesting." He looks to P'ax. "Want a drink? My treat.""
P'ax looks K'del over and croons sweetly, "Making friends?" He nods to Devan. "Well met, Devan. P'ax - obviously -" because his name's been said at least twice now. "Yyth's rider." He slides into the stool E'dre pats, giving the brownrider a little nod and grin. "Absolutely, especially if you're buying. What's interesting?"
K'del gives Devan a lopsided sort of smile for that squeeze, though he shifts away soon after, settling upon one of the stools so that he doesn't have to keep standing. Which doesn't seem to be because he's wobbly already, but then again, who knows. P'ax's croon gets a distinctly dubious glance, though not /quite/ a glower; instead of responding to the greenrider, he echoes his later comment: "Yeah, what's interesting?"
Now that he has the room to, Devan sprawls a little with those elbows. Luxurious space. What's interesting doesn't really seem to interest him, since he's neither looking over at E'dre and the group or asking any questions. But he has an ear on the situation, just nevermind there's a table with a couple of girls at it not too far away.
"All these touchy-feely kinda exchanges you and Devan are having," E'dre answers without hesitation. "I just find it interesting. Y'know. Male bonding rituals." He leans over the bar, signaling the keep (who by this point has resigned himself to pouring drinks for the brownrider without a smile) to come forward. "Ale for me. Hm, hm..," he looks to P'ax, "A shot of whiskey and an ale for him too." To the greenrider: "To catch you up, y'know."
P'ax gives K'del a cheeky grin, completely at ease it would seem, for now. Girls? Who cares about girls with E'dre and K'del here. Pfft. He raises an eyebrow at the brownrider and asks sardonically, "Oh, are you keeping score, then? Should I be prepared to match you one for one?" He flicks his fingers at K'del and dismisses, "You didn't want to drink with him anyways, he can't hold his drink." Neither can P'ax, but who's counting?
K'del plays with the edge of the bar, running fingers over old beer stains, and rolls his eyes at E'dre's explanation. "Nothing wrong with men bonding over--" It sounds as though he intended to say something negative, but, instead, he concludes, "life. Over life." Archly, although he otherwise ignores P'ax, he remarks, in a tone that might as easily be teasing as absolutely serious, "I'd watch out, badmouthing me like that, P'ax. All other things aside: I am your Wingleader, and perfectly capable of assigning duties as I see fit." Nevermind that Sisha might as well be Wingleader anyway.
Male bonding rituals? Devan chokes on suppressed laughter and ducks a glance sideways at the brownrider. Did he really just say that? "Male /bonding/?" It isn't possible to shove more incredulous into that tone. "Y'know, it's a proven fact that if somethin' strikes a chord with you you might have some unresolved issues about that somethin'."
E'dre nods his head at P'ax, "Of course I'm keeping score. If you want, I can get you caught up even faster. Add...," he pauses to count, fingers tapping on his lower lip. "2 shots, 2 glasses of ale.. ," he looks to his current drink, "3 glasses... and you'll be there." It's Devan's laugh that gets a response from the brownrider and he is /aaaalll/ smiles in reply. "I have no qualms with male bonding, don't get me wrong. Just find it amusing. That's all." He leans over to P'ax, slapping him on the shoulder, then draws him in closer for a one-armed hug. "See? I can play the game too." Girls? Those girls are far from paying attention to any of them, all their attention is on K'del. Swooning, likely, over their new Weyrleader.
P'ax chuckles at K'del and points out cheerfully, "But of course, Weyrleader, Faranth forbid I ever badmouth you." He's having way too much fun with this. "What happened to keeping Cadejoth out of the air?" Burning questions, and all. Dryly, to Devan, P'ax remarks, "We're all sexually repressed and secretly gay around here. Don't worry, you'll be there soon enough." E'dre's drink tally has his jaw unhinging a little. "Shards, were you planning to float me home?" His arm slips easily around E'dre's waist, eyes flicking towards him.
K'del can't help the attention he's getting from the girls, but, perhaps surprisingly, he doesn't seem all that aware of it, either. His expression pulls in, darkening just slightly as a result of the interactions between E'dre and P'ax - and, particularly, the greenrider's comment about people being secretly gay. His eyes roll. "Cadejoth," is all he says, however, "Has a mind of his own. You'll have to excuse me." He slides off his seat, angling, already, for the door.
E'dre takes another drink of ale, before he sets it down. Time to start pacing. His cheeks a little flushed from what he has had, though otherwise he seems in control. "Dragons," he grinds out, "All have a mind of their own and /love/ to prove it to you." He's surprised, though, as K'del goes for the door. "Why're you headin' off already?" The brownrider looks confused as he turns to P'ax, "Y'know, floating you home? That'd be hard. Just figured we'd sleep it off here." He pauses, "But not if that upsets K'del."
P'ax glances after K'del, and then shrugs in response to E'dre. He has no clue. "He hates me," P'ax confides, still oddly cheerful. Slyly, quietly, he adds, "Could always sleep it off in my weyr." Wroth and Yyth would approve, at least.
K'del's tone is mild, though the quirk of his lips, as he turns back to consider the group, is a tell-tale indication that he's actually less than amused. "Believe it or not, I have more important things to worry about, right now." Than repression, dragons, drinks, or anything else currently on the table. He turns away again, before P'ax's next comment ; if he hears it, he certainly makes no indication, as he disappears back out into the bowl.
Bang bang bang. That was a lot all at once, and surely K'del's choosing to exit takes Devan by surprise. He'd been sort of pingponging back and forth between E'dre and P'ax, an absentminded smirk slanting his mouth. Once everything goes downhill and the Weyrleader leaves, he turns lazily to the other two. "I'm not repressed." Which makes one of them? Something like that. "Haha. See you guys around." He waves bye at the bartender, slaps his hand down on the bar top and follows K'del out.
What: K'del refuses to let Devan pay for his drink. Then he stops refusing. Then P'ax and E'dre scare him away.
Where: Snowasis, HRW. A lot of my logs are taking place here?
When: 4/16/2009
Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ)
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
With the sun radiating warmth throughout Reaches, it is rather surprising that any would be located inside. But even now, with summer in full swing, there are a few people that have been drawn into the Snowasis to relax. Though it's only afternoon, there is a rowdy group in the corner, laughing raucously at each others jokes and enjoying their shared pitcher of ale far too much for E'dre's taste. The brownrider has draped himself across one of the armchairs near the hearth. A glass of ale is twirled between his fingers as he glares towards the group. "Shardin' can't get a /bit/ of quiet...," he growls, looking towards the barkeep and signaling he wants a refill.
Despite the warmth of the afternoon, K'del is dressed formally in his riding leathers with a finely made shirt beneath, and even his boots have been polished until they gleam. The young man enters from the Patio Ledge, undoing his jacket as he goes, and heads directly for the bar. The barkeep on duty gives him a searching glance - "Whiskey," says K'del - and the drink is, soon thereafter, poured out for him. He tosses his part-mark onto the counter, and shuts his eyes, before lifting up the shot glass to slam it back.
"I'll get that," says Devan, who came up when he saw the new Weyrleader get his drink. He nudges that part-mark back over to K'del and with the other hand replaces it with his own. And he grins at K'del, salutes him, turns to lean back against the bar on his elbows. "So how's the new gig?"
No refill seems to be coming, so E'dre rolls to his feet and stalks over to the bar. He sets his empty glass down, pushing it forward until it gets noticed and refilled with a mildly reproving glance. K'del's entrance is met with raised brows, especially for the whiskey. He gives the Weyrleader a flippant salute and then sips his ale. Devan's given a once-over look and then he clears his throat. "How 'bout you buy me a shot too, huh?"
K'del's head tilts, and he gives Devan a searching look, disbelief registering around the corners of his eyes, the set of his lips. "No," he says, pushing the other man's mark away again. "Imagine I earn a boatload more than you do, these days, so there's no excuse for me to accept drinks from others." E'dre's comment draws his attention over towards the brownrider, and he adds, "Get E'dre's instead. If you must." The poor bartender looks most confused, but as K'del pushes forward his own coin again, he accepts this, with another wary glance between the group.
It's like someone just told Devan they cancelled his birthday this year. The grin he was wearing fades slowly, more and more the more he realizes just how serious K'del is. There's just something about your Weyrleader denying you, then reminding you he makes more than you do, that just rains all over a guy's parade. "E'dre is--" That guy. Right. "Sure." The corner of his mouth twitches but he doesn't grin again, he just tips his head at the brownrider for the bartender's sake, that one, and turns to stare straight ahead. And then he says something that a big guy like him probably shouldn't say. "That really hurt my feelings."
Thirty seconds into a conversation, if that, and K'del has already stepped in it. Devan's change of expression, followed by what he has to say, draws K'del's own expression into something awkward, rabbit caught in the headlights, entirely uncomfortable. "It did?" It must sound lame even to the bronzerider, because he flinches, as soon as the words are free. "Shells." Not doing any better. "I just... Um. Can I make it up to you? Didn't /mean/ to."
It did? It did. Devan shrugs, rolls his eyes to the side. The /other/ side, even. Ouch. Make it up to him? At first it doesn't look like it, but he does eventually look over at the young bronzerider to present an idea to him. It's genius, really, ready? "You should let me buy you a shot." Which means... another shot.
"You've heard about my reputation with alcohol," accuses K'del, albeit good naturedly; it is relatively well known, it's true, that he's thrown up after winning two separate flights, and that he tends not to drink too much at other times. Probably for that reason. But: "If you like. Can't make my afternoon any less--" Something. He takes a breath, then pushes his empty glass back towards the barkeep, shrugging.
He grins. "I hear a lot o'things." Half-twisting, awkward, Devan makes eyes with the bartender to tell him to make it two and fishes in his pocket for the appropriate marks so he can flip them one at a time onto the bar top. "I promise," he tells K'del when their shots arrive, "you won't get sick." He passes one to the Weyrleader and raises his own. "To a fine, upstanding young fella who's had a damn rough week. Yikes."
"Someone's intent on getting the Weyrleader drunk," E'dre comments from the side, having taken his own Devan-purchased-shot the moment it was poured. He pulls up a barstool and sits, elbow dropping onto the tabletop to allow his hand to support his chin as he listens to the two. "Might as well make a drinkin' game out of this. Whose interested?"
"And some of them may even be true." That's K'del, managing to grin, albeit ruefully. "So long as you're guaranteeing my not-sickness--" His shoulders shrug. "And will explain to Tiriana, should--" But he breaks off from that, shakes his head. He's not going to go down that path, not further than that. He accepts the drink, and raises his towards the other man. "To future weeks being better. Please." E'dre's comment makes him splutter on his drink. "No. Oh. Please. No."
The grin turns sly, tongue tip poking out between his teeth. Oh, he'll explain to Tiriana. They're best friends now, afterall. His shot goes down smoothly. He's done this before. After ridding himself of the glass he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and leans to look down the line at E'dre. "I just made a pretty important promise, involves him /not/ pukin'. We should be tryin' t'make him look good," clap to K'del's back, "not sick." What are friends for?
E'dre brows shoot right up, still in that relaxed slouch against the table. "Please? No? Never heard of someone refusing a drinking game. She's got you that scared?" He lets out a low whistle, head lifting from his hand to shake back and forth. "Shards, and Devan's supporting it! Too bad, too bad. Could've had fun with that one." His attention moves to the 'keep and he flicks his fingers to his shot glass. "I'll have to do it on m'own then." Its poured, downed, and then his ale is given attention. "Puking is for sissies. Get a tolerance up, you'll be fine." So says the would-be-alcoholic.
P'ax ambles in, hands shoved in his pockets, looking distracted for the most part. His eyes scan and catch on a selection of men, eyebrows raising. Ah, well then, there's an interesting group. "Hey, E'dre, Weyrleader-" smirk, "And other man I do not know," he greets the group in turn as he approaches.
K'del straightens his shoulders, slightly, under the weight of the clap to his back, nodding hurriedly as he sets down his glass. "Right. Looking /good/. And no, it's nothing to do with Tiriana. More--" You know, just looking good. He pushes the glass away from him, just in time for P'ax to approach; his expression twitches. "P'ax." Even.
E'dre's single-handed endeavor to get himself drunk is amusing, so Devan grins at him. "Good luck," he wishes, sincerely. K'del ends up on the receiving end of that same grin and gets more brotherly physical contact in the form of a big squeeze to his shoulder. "Devan," he supplies for P'ax, and resumes looking like he's just happy to be here.
E'dre says, "P'ax! Pull up a chair, I was just trying to unsuccessfully get K'del drunk," E'dre's all cheer as he pats the stool beside him. "But, he doesn't want to look sloppy. Despite the fact he and Devan have /both/ started off the afternoon with shots." He shrugs, looking between the two. First back-clapping, now shoulder-squeezing, between Devan and K'del. E'dre's brows pinch together as he stares at the two of them. "Interesting." He looks to P'ax. "Want a drink? My treat.""
P'ax looks K'del over and croons sweetly, "Making friends?" He nods to Devan. "Well met, Devan. P'ax - obviously -" because his name's been said at least twice now. "Yyth's rider." He slides into the stool E'dre pats, giving the brownrider a little nod and grin. "Absolutely, especially if you're buying. What's interesting?"
K'del gives Devan a lopsided sort of smile for that squeeze, though he shifts away soon after, settling upon one of the stools so that he doesn't have to keep standing. Which doesn't seem to be because he's wobbly already, but then again, who knows. P'ax's croon gets a distinctly dubious glance, though not /quite/ a glower; instead of responding to the greenrider, he echoes his later comment: "Yeah, what's interesting?"
Now that he has the room to, Devan sprawls a little with those elbows. Luxurious space. What's interesting doesn't really seem to interest him, since he's neither looking over at E'dre and the group or asking any questions. But he has an ear on the situation, just nevermind there's a table with a couple of girls at it not too far away.
"All these touchy-feely kinda exchanges you and Devan are having," E'dre answers without hesitation. "I just find it interesting. Y'know. Male bonding rituals." He leans over the bar, signaling the keep (who by this point has resigned himself to pouring drinks for the brownrider without a smile) to come forward. "Ale for me. Hm, hm..," he looks to P'ax, "A shot of whiskey and an ale for him too." To the greenrider: "To catch you up, y'know."
P'ax gives K'del a cheeky grin, completely at ease it would seem, for now. Girls? Who cares about girls with E'dre and K'del here. Pfft. He raises an eyebrow at the brownrider and asks sardonically, "Oh, are you keeping score, then? Should I be prepared to match you one for one?" He flicks his fingers at K'del and dismisses, "You didn't want to drink with him anyways, he can't hold his drink." Neither can P'ax, but who's counting?
K'del plays with the edge of the bar, running fingers over old beer stains, and rolls his eyes at E'dre's explanation. "Nothing wrong with men bonding over--" It sounds as though he intended to say something negative, but, instead, he concludes, "life. Over life." Archly, although he otherwise ignores P'ax, he remarks, in a tone that might as easily be teasing as absolutely serious, "I'd watch out, badmouthing me like that, P'ax. All other things aside: I am your Wingleader, and perfectly capable of assigning duties as I see fit." Nevermind that Sisha might as well be Wingleader anyway.
Male bonding rituals? Devan chokes on suppressed laughter and ducks a glance sideways at the brownrider. Did he really just say that? "Male /bonding/?" It isn't possible to shove more incredulous into that tone. "Y'know, it's a proven fact that if somethin' strikes a chord with you you might have some unresolved issues about that somethin'."
E'dre nods his head at P'ax, "Of course I'm keeping score. If you want, I can get you caught up even faster. Add...," he pauses to count, fingers tapping on his lower lip. "2 shots, 2 glasses of ale.. ," he looks to his current drink, "3 glasses... and you'll be there." It's Devan's laugh that gets a response from the brownrider and he is /aaaalll/ smiles in reply. "I have no qualms with male bonding, don't get me wrong. Just find it amusing. That's all." He leans over to P'ax, slapping him on the shoulder, then draws him in closer for a one-armed hug. "See? I can play the game too." Girls? Those girls are far from paying attention to any of them, all their attention is on K'del. Swooning, likely, over their new Weyrleader.
P'ax chuckles at K'del and points out cheerfully, "But of course, Weyrleader, Faranth forbid I ever badmouth you." He's having way too much fun with this. "What happened to keeping Cadejoth out of the air?" Burning questions, and all. Dryly, to Devan, P'ax remarks, "We're all sexually repressed and secretly gay around here. Don't worry, you'll be there soon enough." E'dre's drink tally has his jaw unhinging a little. "Shards, were you planning to float me home?" His arm slips easily around E'dre's waist, eyes flicking towards him.
K'del can't help the attention he's getting from the girls, but, perhaps surprisingly, he doesn't seem all that aware of it, either. His expression pulls in, darkening just slightly as a result of the interactions between E'dre and P'ax - and, particularly, the greenrider's comment about people being secretly gay. His eyes roll. "Cadejoth," is all he says, however, "Has a mind of his own. You'll have to excuse me." He slides off his seat, angling, already, for the door.
E'dre takes another drink of ale, before he sets it down. Time to start pacing. His cheeks a little flushed from what he has had, though otherwise he seems in control. "Dragons," he grinds out, "All have a mind of their own and /love/ to prove it to you." He's surprised, though, as K'del goes for the door. "Why're you headin' off already?" The brownrider looks confused as he turns to P'ax, "Y'know, floating you home? That'd be hard. Just figured we'd sleep it off here." He pauses, "But not if that upsets K'del."
P'ax glances after K'del, and then shrugs in response to E'dre. He has no clue. "He hates me," P'ax confides, still oddly cheerful. Slyly, quietly, he adds, "Could always sleep it off in my weyr." Wroth and Yyth would approve, at least.
K'del's tone is mild, though the quirk of his lips, as he turns back to consider the group, is a tell-tale indication that he's actually less than amused. "Believe it or not, I have more important things to worry about, right now." Than repression, dragons, drinks, or anything else currently on the table. He turns away again, before P'ax's next comment ; if he hears it, he certainly makes no indication, as he disappears back out into the bowl.
Bang bang bang. That was a lot all at once, and surely K'del's choosing to exit takes Devan by surprise. He'd been sort of pingponging back and forth between E'dre and P'ax, an absentminded smirk slanting his mouth. Once everything goes downhill and the Weyrleader leaves, he turns lazily to the other two. "I'm not repressed." Which makes one of them? Something like that. "Haha. See you guys around." He waves bye at the bartender, slaps his hand down on the bar top and follows K'del out.