Commiserating with Milani.
RL Date: 3/6/08
IC Date: 7/21/15 (The day after the leadership flight at Ista Weyr. A'son's gooooooone!)
It's not early anymore, which means that the Common Room is largely occupied by aunties near the hearth in spite of summer's warmth, occupied at their knitting and stitchery. Usually Milani would be bustling about in Stores by now, but today is not one of those days. Maybe it's that she has a rest day, or maybe she's playing hooky, but the assistant headwoman is tucked away in the back of the room, curled up in her favorite chair, a leggy pile of limbs dressed for the summer weather. The chair itself is turned away from the hearth mostly, making Millie hard to spot. She makes a pretense apparently of busy-ness: abacus in hand she's flicking beads back and forth and does have a clipboard propped up against one bent knee, but an astute observer would note that she's not writing anything down and her sums aren't adding up to anything like sensible. Still, the clicking of the beads makes a soft counterpoint to the mumble of gossip by the hearth, an indicator of the young woman's presence.
Mid-summer morning; N'thei in leathers and firestone-smell comes into the room with a grim look to him that wards off any chipper greetings from the aunties. No one needs to ask what he's doing down here, there's only one door he ever goes to-- but she's not in, and a few raps of his knuckles prove it. Only once he's on his way back out, only while he's stripping off his riding jacket, does he notice the all-legs clicking away in the corner. He veers; "He's not dead, you know."
Startled, Milani's head jerks upward and her blue-green eyes settle on firestone-stinky. "No. Just sharding miles away and /Weyrleader/," she fires back a little testily at the Weyrleader and flips the beads all to one side with a sharp, sudden click, then sets the object down atop her clipboard. "I mean how would it look really, for some teenaged assistant headwoman from the Reaches to be visiting Ista's new Weyrleader on the sly all the time, huh? Not that y'know, it'd be /like/ that anyway, because /he's/ not like that, but you know what I mean." She eyes N'thei for a moment. "Not like you're looking all that chipper either. What's biting you?"
Arriving at the arm of her chair, N'thei reaches for Milani's abacus while a furrow forms in between his eyebrows, confusion writ there in his features. "Not that you've spent all night imagining what it would be like if it /was/ like that, neh?" The smile he casts down at the poor girl is unaccountably sympathetic, as mild as you please, one sharp contrast to the rough rest of him. "Biting me? Probably the same general thing, except without the fantasies of warm tropical nights to console myself."
The abacus is easily taken off the clipboard. Milani doesn't put a hand out to stop the Weyrleader's motion and she flops backward in her chair, looking up at him with an expression that's equal parts mulish displeasure and pure misery. "What do /you/ think," she continues in irascible vein then sighs and reaches up to tuck hair behind ears, mollified somewhat by the tenor of that smile. "Oh. Yeah. Because you guys were like, the bestest friends and all." There's the faintest hint of sarcasm there, but similar sympathy sneaking across her face. Then she sighs again. "I just miss him, N'thei." Candid. Little-girl-lost. "And I don't know how it'll be from now on. Will I even be /able/ to visit and anything else, if it wasn't already is probably like, /totally/ off the table."
N'thei stays a look on Milani after her sarcasm, his head cocked while he slides the abacus away from her; "Look love, I'm being nice here. I don't have to be." Or does he? The sigh, the lost look works stupidly well even while he looks away to try and get the workings of the abacus. "I'm the last person that ought to be giving advice on affairs of the heart." A brief look finds a pointed landing on Amerie's door. "But I can make a suggestion? --Not that I think you ought to get heartsick over A'son, but since you insist on it." Gruff-and-manly, that last.
"I know. I know you are. I'm sorry, N'thei," honestly stated. "It's just the last time we talked about Ays you were awfully /mean/ and it hasn't been the easiest night." More with the candid though a little smile sneaks onto her face as he messes with the abacus. "Fives ... ones ..." she explains the values of the beads. "Move them over and that makes 10, after 10 move them over, makes 20 and so on and so on ..." Then her gaze is following N'thei's to Amerie's door and she nods just once. "Yeah, well. At least it's the same Weyr." That offered more quietly and with a hint of pain. His last purses her lips and she makes big goggle eyes at him. "To each her own?" Snap. But then she nods. "Sure. Got nothing to lose."
No, he doesn't have to be; "I know I was mean. You were being fecking stupid, and if no one else would tell you so--" N'thei snorts while he makes impossible numbers with the abacus, more clattering the beads than calculating. "But you're not a little girl any more, and he's far away from home. Istans will know him as nobody but the weyrleader. But you knew him when he was a handyman, a weyrling, a petty thief. You wait a while, till he's homesick, till he starts to wish he'd never won that damnable flight, then you go see him." He clacks all the beads to one side abruptly and holds the abacus back toward Milani; "These things are stupid."
"I kind of figured that out for myself about five seconds after A'son started shouting. Rubbing it in only hurt. Though thanks for having the best interests of my education at heart." Milani rolls her eyes ceilingward a little but then his words grab her attention and fully at that, the young woman's head tilting to the side as she considers the Weyrleader's advice. "You've got a devious mind, sir," she finally assesses and takes the abacus back. Her mouth opens to fire back a retort about the tool, but she only makes a show of tucking it back in over the clipboard and doesn't speak right away. After a moment she looks back up at him. "It's kind of a calculating plan, but I like it." Beat. "So what're you going to do? Hop right over there and punch his lights out then buy him a drink?"
N'thei argues calmly, "Just because it's not stripping naked and waiting for him in his bed doesn't mean it's devious, love. Truth is, I don't think you'll be any happier if you bed him, but you'll have to learn that for yourself." Big shoulders shrug right before he flops his stinking coat over the back of her chair, soon to lean his arms across it. "Thought's crossed my mind, but what good's that? He'll suffer plenty without me beating it into him. --You're not going to be rendered useless much longer because of all this, I hope?" With a hand waved to her aimless clipboard.
"Wasn't /totally/ naked and the bed was only because I fell asleep waiting." Milani protests with a jut of her chin then waves it aside. "It wasn't really ... about screwing." She drops the cuss word easily. "Just making a point really, only it wasn't a very good way to make that point. I made a mistake, it was dumb. We all got over it. Happy, happy now. Sort of." Then she snorts softly. "I'm not useless. I'm actually sort of waiting out for Candidates. They're supposed to get one of these," she taps an abacus bead. "And they're re-painting in the last of the back Store rooms so it's actually a slow day for me. Anyway, d'you really think it's going to be that bad for him down there?" Curious she tilts her head baaack, so she can see the Weyrleader. "What's Griere like anyway? Do you know?"
N'thei raises an eyebrow as though he would beg to differ, not-about-screwing, but he lets the argument go with nothing more than dissenting smile. "I met her once at the Weaver Hall by accident. She and Satiet aren't so different." Satiet-- a name said with a weird inflection, a compliment and a loathing all rolled into one. "Seemed cold and haughty to me. You're prettier, but it'd be too easy if that's all it took." Funny enough to put a laugh through his nose. "Worried?" The look he returns to Milani is blunt; she probably should be worried.
Milani just shrugs. Then she listens again and her brows hike upwards. "I've heard things like that, yeah. Shells. You're right then." And her voice goes soft. "It won't be easy for him at all." She's distracted by this idea for a minute then a smirk crosses her face. "Thanks. For thinking I'm prettier. Or at least saying so." Her shoulders lift again. "What does some mouthy assistant headwoman eleven years younger than he is, have to offer Ista's Weyrleader?" At least she's semi-realistic? "It's not like I ever really had a chance in the first place." Glum again and she looks down at the abacus, twitches a bead or two meaninglessly.
Only able to shrug at her question, N'thei won't go as far as to make a happy lie to answer. "Millie, honey, in a turn or two, there are going to be so many men who wish they'd catch your eye. Shells, I'll probably wish you notched my belt. Why A'son?" Honestly-and-truly bemused, he opens his hands in a plea for understanding. "I could almost understand B'yan, I'daur, even that candidate from Tillek. But A'son?" But slug-droppings?
He said 'honey'. And that seems to amuse Millie greatly because she suddenly cracks one of those face-lighting grins again and sits up a little straighter, even as her cheeks color faintly at his implication. "You're not too bad yourself," she fumbles for a good comeback. "But there's Amerie ... and the fact that half the time we can't stand each other. It'd never work for more than a crazy tumble against a wall somewhere." Blunt. The question though makes her blink in surprise. "What? He's a nice guy. He makes me laugh. He listens to me." Beat. "Okay, mostly he does. Can't quite break him of the habit of calling me /kid/. But anyway. We have fun together." And then more thoughtfully. "I don't know. It's not like I haven't made out with plenty of guys in the back store rooms, or flirted or looked. But it's different with him." Her hand settles over her stomach and her fingers press lightly. "He makes my stomach swim." It's a girlish confession and one she makes a little wide-eyed for that matter. "Anyway. Sure, Baye's hot and all. Wouldn't mind a roll there either. I'daur's just a >squish< too old, even for /me/." As long as we're being mercenary. And her fingers squeeze air between them for emphasis on 'squish'.
"Oh if ever you think you're grown up enough for a tumble?" The term alone loads N'thei's tone with ridicule. "You just let me know." He doesn't even blink that there's-Amerie or that they can't stand each other; there's a point to be made! After listening patiently through all A'son's good qualities, he answers quickly, "He's a self-righteous bastard too. --And I'm getting way off-track here. I'm trying to convey some wisdom, you know? It's not worth feeling bad about yourself. Because of someone you can't have. Right?" Very inspiring, isn't he.
Milani only quirks a smile for that. "And just when did you get your first one in, Mister-wouldn't've-minded-you-for-a-notch?" Her eyes roll ceilingward again and she shifts around the stuff in her lap, pushing it onto the the nearby, but not next to, side-table making her lean far out of the chair. She swivels then, legs flopping over the arm of the chair, head tilting back so she doesn't have to keep craning backwards to keep N'thei in view. "What you mean like how he gets himself all wrapped around an idea of something, right or wrong and can't let it go? Sure. He could stand learning to like, really relax." Then her brows lift and her head shakes. "Don't worry. That's not about to happen. Nor am I going to do something /really/ dumb like haring off to try to get a job at Ista, just because of Ays." This time her eyes stay steady on the Weyrleader's face. "However, if it gets so you're missing him pretty bad too, we could always go get smashed at the Snowasis every now and then and bitch roundly about the stupidity of letting one's dragon chase Istan queens?" And now she's joshing him, but there's a subtle friendliness to it, that hint of something sort of, maybe, like understanding between them.
Seen coming from a mile away; "Not your business." N'thei reckons back to that first-one-in though, looks toward Milani but by no means /at/ her while his eyes glaze with the recollection. Then a breath and he comes back with an irritated snort. "Can you believe that? /Ista./ How do you-- Why would you let yourself-- He has to live and die for a place he doesn't even care about. At least this place, least the Reaches matter to me, you know?" Abruptly, his eyes refocus on Milani; "What the hell am I having this conversation with you for? Shouldn't you be dragging candidates through rooms they ought not to be nosing around in?"
"Sure, fine. Just saying - I'll bet you were younger than I am now." Milani drops it though, intrigued perhaps by the way this particular rider's eyes glaze over so. "At least the weather's fine." About Ista. "But -- yeah. I mean everyone he cares about is /here/ right?" Self included presumably as her arms fold across her chest. There's another pointed look at the Weyrleader though. "Is that why you wanted that big knot?" A nod for his jacket, draping her chair and the knot dangling there. His challenge-question earns a soft snort. "Because you know I won't blab, I'm not your girlfriend, B'yan will just laugh and Satiet -- well she probably thinks he got what he deserved or something equally snide or just doesn't care. And I dunno 'bout Shan. But probably somethin' t'do with her doin' your job half the time. Not too sure about that one and before you say it, I know. None of my business. I've just got two ears and sharp eyes. That's all." Deep breath. "Besides. You think I'm pretty. And no. Not unless they think to ask me."
It's possible this conversation was about to come to a close anyway, but all it takes is to be reminded of the big knot and the big question that goes with it to have N'thei pick up his jacket, to wear his most arcane smile. "I do think your pretty, but you're also damn nosy. --Stay here and pine, love, if it makes you happy. I'm going to go pretend to work while Shanlee really does my job."
"Very," Milani agrees and swings her legs over onto the floor, catching up her clipboard and abacus. "And no. I'm thinking a swim in this terrible, awful heat is probably a good idea." She grins up at him a little cheekily and slides to her feet, straightening to just shy of his own height, that height he once said was a relief because he didn't have to look down so far. Her hand brushes towards his sleeve very lightly. "Nosy with a big mouth too." That might be something like an apology for pushing things too far, as she's wont to do. "Good luck with the work thing though. I'm sure, for certai sure, even if I could never actually have it, because I've got the wrong bits, that I wouldn't want your job. Nor Satiet's." Her eyes linger on him for a moment, then she gives him an odd little smile that might almost be an indication of support before she turns to swish up the stairs and long the hallway towards her room, endless legs and all under a very short skirt.
N'thei scratches his thumb across his lower lip with a thoughtful scrape before he comments, "I'd take Satiet's job. Who argues with the weyrwoman?" That sets off a wry laugh before he's off, sort of tossing his fingers at Milani in a gesture that can be taken for a wave if that's what the girl is looking for. He doesn't register her pseudo-apology, just leaves and takes the stink of firestone and sweat with him, small favors.
IC Date: 7/21/15 (The day after the leadership flight at Ista Weyr. A'son's gooooooone!)
It's not early anymore, which means that the Common Room is largely occupied by aunties near the hearth in spite of summer's warmth, occupied at their knitting and stitchery. Usually Milani would be bustling about in Stores by now, but today is not one of those days. Maybe it's that she has a rest day, or maybe she's playing hooky, but the assistant headwoman is tucked away in the back of the room, curled up in her favorite chair, a leggy pile of limbs dressed for the summer weather. The chair itself is turned away from the hearth mostly, making Millie hard to spot. She makes a pretense apparently of busy-ness: abacus in hand she's flicking beads back and forth and does have a clipboard propped up against one bent knee, but an astute observer would note that she's not writing anything down and her sums aren't adding up to anything like sensible. Still, the clicking of the beads makes a soft counterpoint to the mumble of gossip by the hearth, an indicator of the young woman's presence.
Mid-summer morning; N'thei in leathers and firestone-smell comes into the room with a grim look to him that wards off any chipper greetings from the aunties. No one needs to ask what he's doing down here, there's only one door he ever goes to-- but she's not in, and a few raps of his knuckles prove it. Only once he's on his way back out, only while he's stripping off his riding jacket, does he notice the all-legs clicking away in the corner. He veers; "He's not dead, you know."
Startled, Milani's head jerks upward and her blue-green eyes settle on firestone-stinky. "No. Just sharding miles away and /Weyrleader/," she fires back a little testily at the Weyrleader and flips the beads all to one side with a sharp, sudden click, then sets the object down atop her clipboard. "I mean how would it look really, for some teenaged assistant headwoman from the Reaches to be visiting Ista's new Weyrleader on the sly all the time, huh? Not that y'know, it'd be /like/ that anyway, because /he's/ not like that, but you know what I mean." She eyes N'thei for a moment. "Not like you're looking all that chipper either. What's biting you?"
Arriving at the arm of her chair, N'thei reaches for Milani's abacus while a furrow forms in between his eyebrows, confusion writ there in his features. "Not that you've spent all night imagining what it would be like if it /was/ like that, neh?" The smile he casts down at the poor girl is unaccountably sympathetic, as mild as you please, one sharp contrast to the rough rest of him. "Biting me? Probably the same general thing, except without the fantasies of warm tropical nights to console myself."
The abacus is easily taken off the clipboard. Milani doesn't put a hand out to stop the Weyrleader's motion and she flops backward in her chair, looking up at him with an expression that's equal parts mulish displeasure and pure misery. "What do /you/ think," she continues in irascible vein then sighs and reaches up to tuck hair behind ears, mollified somewhat by the tenor of that smile. "Oh. Yeah. Because you guys were like, the bestest friends and all." There's the faintest hint of sarcasm there, but similar sympathy sneaking across her face. Then she sighs again. "I just miss him, N'thei." Candid. Little-girl-lost. "And I don't know how it'll be from now on. Will I even be /able/ to visit and anything else, if it wasn't already is probably like, /totally/ off the table."
N'thei stays a look on Milani after her sarcasm, his head cocked while he slides the abacus away from her; "Look love, I'm being nice here. I don't have to be." Or does he? The sigh, the lost look works stupidly well even while he looks away to try and get the workings of the abacus. "I'm the last person that ought to be giving advice on affairs of the heart." A brief look finds a pointed landing on Amerie's door. "But I can make a suggestion? --Not that I think you ought to get heartsick over A'son, but since you insist on it." Gruff-and-manly, that last.
"I know. I know you are. I'm sorry, N'thei," honestly stated. "It's just the last time we talked about Ays you were awfully /mean/ and it hasn't been the easiest night." More with the candid though a little smile sneaks onto her face as he messes with the abacus. "Fives ... ones ..." she explains the values of the beads. "Move them over and that makes 10, after 10 move them over, makes 20 and so on and so on ..." Then her gaze is following N'thei's to Amerie's door and she nods just once. "Yeah, well. At least it's the same Weyr." That offered more quietly and with a hint of pain. His last purses her lips and she makes big goggle eyes at him. "To each her own?" Snap. But then she nods. "Sure. Got nothing to lose."
No, he doesn't have to be; "I know I was mean. You were being fecking stupid, and if no one else would tell you so--" N'thei snorts while he makes impossible numbers with the abacus, more clattering the beads than calculating. "But you're not a little girl any more, and he's far away from home. Istans will know him as nobody but the weyrleader. But you knew him when he was a handyman, a weyrling, a petty thief. You wait a while, till he's homesick, till he starts to wish he'd never won that damnable flight, then you go see him." He clacks all the beads to one side abruptly and holds the abacus back toward Milani; "These things are stupid."
"I kind of figured that out for myself about five seconds after A'son started shouting. Rubbing it in only hurt. Though thanks for having the best interests of my education at heart." Milani rolls her eyes ceilingward a little but then his words grab her attention and fully at that, the young woman's head tilting to the side as she considers the Weyrleader's advice. "You've got a devious mind, sir," she finally assesses and takes the abacus back. Her mouth opens to fire back a retort about the tool, but she only makes a show of tucking it back in over the clipboard and doesn't speak right away. After a moment she looks back up at him. "It's kind of a calculating plan, but I like it." Beat. "So what're you going to do? Hop right over there and punch his lights out then buy him a drink?"
N'thei argues calmly, "Just because it's not stripping naked and waiting for him in his bed doesn't mean it's devious, love. Truth is, I don't think you'll be any happier if you bed him, but you'll have to learn that for yourself." Big shoulders shrug right before he flops his stinking coat over the back of her chair, soon to lean his arms across it. "Thought's crossed my mind, but what good's that? He'll suffer plenty without me beating it into him. --You're not going to be rendered useless much longer because of all this, I hope?" With a hand waved to her aimless clipboard.
"Wasn't /totally/ naked and the bed was only because I fell asleep waiting." Milani protests with a jut of her chin then waves it aside. "It wasn't really ... about screwing." She drops the cuss word easily. "Just making a point really, only it wasn't a very good way to make that point. I made a mistake, it was dumb. We all got over it. Happy, happy now. Sort of." Then she snorts softly. "I'm not useless. I'm actually sort of waiting out for Candidates. They're supposed to get one of these," she taps an abacus bead. "And they're re-painting in the last of the back Store rooms so it's actually a slow day for me. Anyway, d'you really think it's going to be that bad for him down there?" Curious she tilts her head baaack, so she can see the Weyrleader. "What's Griere like anyway? Do you know?"
N'thei raises an eyebrow as though he would beg to differ, not-about-screwing, but he lets the argument go with nothing more than dissenting smile. "I met her once at the Weaver Hall by accident. She and Satiet aren't so different." Satiet-- a name said with a weird inflection, a compliment and a loathing all rolled into one. "Seemed cold and haughty to me. You're prettier, but it'd be too easy if that's all it took." Funny enough to put a laugh through his nose. "Worried?" The look he returns to Milani is blunt; she probably should be worried.
Milani just shrugs. Then she listens again and her brows hike upwards. "I've heard things like that, yeah. Shells. You're right then." And her voice goes soft. "It won't be easy for him at all." She's distracted by this idea for a minute then a smirk crosses her face. "Thanks. For thinking I'm prettier. Or at least saying so." Her shoulders lift again. "What does some mouthy assistant headwoman eleven years younger than he is, have to offer Ista's Weyrleader?" At least she's semi-realistic? "It's not like I ever really had a chance in the first place." Glum again and she looks down at the abacus, twitches a bead or two meaninglessly.
Only able to shrug at her question, N'thei won't go as far as to make a happy lie to answer. "Millie, honey, in a turn or two, there are going to be so many men who wish they'd catch your eye. Shells, I'll probably wish you notched my belt. Why A'son?" Honestly-and-truly bemused, he opens his hands in a plea for understanding. "I could almost understand B'yan, I'daur, even that candidate from Tillek. But A'son?" But slug-droppings?
He said 'honey'. And that seems to amuse Millie greatly because she suddenly cracks one of those face-lighting grins again and sits up a little straighter, even as her cheeks color faintly at his implication. "You're not too bad yourself," she fumbles for a good comeback. "But there's Amerie ... and the fact that half the time we can't stand each other. It'd never work for more than a crazy tumble against a wall somewhere." Blunt. The question though makes her blink in surprise. "What? He's a nice guy. He makes me laugh. He listens to me." Beat. "Okay, mostly he does. Can't quite break him of the habit of calling me /kid/. But anyway. We have fun together." And then more thoughtfully. "I don't know. It's not like I haven't made out with plenty of guys in the back store rooms, or flirted or looked. But it's different with him." Her hand settles over her stomach and her fingers press lightly. "He makes my stomach swim." It's a girlish confession and one she makes a little wide-eyed for that matter. "Anyway. Sure, Baye's hot and all. Wouldn't mind a roll there either. I'daur's just a >squish< too old, even for /me/." As long as we're being mercenary. And her fingers squeeze air between them for emphasis on 'squish'.
"Oh if ever you think you're grown up enough for a tumble?" The term alone loads N'thei's tone with ridicule. "You just let me know." He doesn't even blink that there's-Amerie or that they can't stand each other; there's a point to be made! After listening patiently through all A'son's good qualities, he answers quickly, "He's a self-righteous bastard too. --And I'm getting way off-track here. I'm trying to convey some wisdom, you know? It's not worth feeling bad about yourself. Because of someone you can't have. Right?" Very inspiring, isn't he.
Milani only quirks a smile for that. "And just when did you get your first one in, Mister-wouldn't've-minded-you-for-a-notch?" Her eyes roll ceilingward again and she shifts around the stuff in her lap, pushing it onto the the nearby, but not next to, side-table making her lean far out of the chair. She swivels then, legs flopping over the arm of the chair, head tilting back so she doesn't have to keep craning backwards to keep N'thei in view. "What you mean like how he gets himself all wrapped around an idea of something, right or wrong and can't let it go? Sure. He could stand learning to like, really relax." Then her brows lift and her head shakes. "Don't worry. That's not about to happen. Nor am I going to do something /really/ dumb like haring off to try to get a job at Ista, just because of Ays." This time her eyes stay steady on the Weyrleader's face. "However, if it gets so you're missing him pretty bad too, we could always go get smashed at the Snowasis every now and then and bitch roundly about the stupidity of letting one's dragon chase Istan queens?" And now she's joshing him, but there's a subtle friendliness to it, that hint of something sort of, maybe, like understanding between them.
Seen coming from a mile away; "Not your business." N'thei reckons back to that first-one-in though, looks toward Milani but by no means /at/ her while his eyes glaze with the recollection. Then a breath and he comes back with an irritated snort. "Can you believe that? /Ista./ How do you-- Why would you let yourself-- He has to live and die for a place he doesn't even care about. At least this place, least the Reaches matter to me, you know?" Abruptly, his eyes refocus on Milani; "What the hell am I having this conversation with you for? Shouldn't you be dragging candidates through rooms they ought not to be nosing around in?"
"Sure, fine. Just saying - I'll bet you were younger than I am now." Milani drops it though, intrigued perhaps by the way this particular rider's eyes glaze over so. "At least the weather's fine." About Ista. "But -- yeah. I mean everyone he cares about is /here/ right?" Self included presumably as her arms fold across her chest. There's another pointed look at the Weyrleader though. "Is that why you wanted that big knot?" A nod for his jacket, draping her chair and the knot dangling there. His challenge-question earns a soft snort. "Because you know I won't blab, I'm not your girlfriend, B'yan will just laugh and Satiet -- well she probably thinks he got what he deserved or something equally snide or just doesn't care. And I dunno 'bout Shan. But probably somethin' t'do with her doin' your job half the time. Not too sure about that one and before you say it, I know. None of my business. I've just got two ears and sharp eyes. That's all." Deep breath. "Besides. You think I'm pretty. And no. Not unless they think to ask me."
It's possible this conversation was about to come to a close anyway, but all it takes is to be reminded of the big knot and the big question that goes with it to have N'thei pick up his jacket, to wear his most arcane smile. "I do think your pretty, but you're also damn nosy. --Stay here and pine, love, if it makes you happy. I'm going to go pretend to work while Shanlee really does my job."
"Very," Milani agrees and swings her legs over onto the floor, catching up her clipboard and abacus. "And no. I'm thinking a swim in this terrible, awful heat is probably a good idea." She grins up at him a little cheekily and slides to her feet, straightening to just shy of his own height, that height he once said was a relief because he didn't have to look down so far. Her hand brushes towards his sleeve very lightly. "Nosy with a big mouth too." That might be something like an apology for pushing things too far, as she's wont to do. "Good luck with the work thing though. I'm sure, for certai sure, even if I could never actually have it, because I've got the wrong bits, that I wouldn't want your job. Nor Satiet's." Her eyes linger on him for a moment, then she gives him an odd little smile that might almost be an indication of support before she turns to swish up the stairs and long the hallway towards her room, endless legs and all under a very short skirt.
N'thei scratches his thumb across his lower lip with a thoughtful scrape before he comments, "I'd take Satiet's job. Who argues with the weyrwoman?" That sets off a wry laugh before he's off, sort of tossing his fingers at Milani in a gesture that can be taken for a wave if that's what the girl is looking for. He doesn't register her pseudo-apology, just leaves and takes the stink of firestone and sweat with him, small favors.