My kingdom for some toast: Milani and N'thei mostly talk about A'son.
RL Date: 3/21/08
IC Date: 9/25/15
Central Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr(#17755RIJM)
Though certain of the Weyr's supplies are stored at the places where they are used, most are kept here, in the central storage complex. A series of caverns grouped around a central corridor, the complex is cut on the grand scale necessary to hold all the items a full and active Weyr needs.
The main corridor is wide and tall enough to admit a laden wagon. The walls are lined with heavy wooden doors, their wide spacing evidence of the size of the rooms behind them. Each of the doors features a posted inventory and map of its room's contents, and there are small piles of returned items beside several, waiting until someone has the time to reshelve them properly. There is a set of hardwood shelves available on a space of wall between two of the doors where people can place items when they are not sure which storeroom they belong in. Scanning the door signs, you note cold stores, dry food stores, rooms for textiles and furnishings, the records room, and the supply closet.
To the south, the corridor opens out to the lower caverns.
It's getting on towards late, most of Hayda's assistants have knocked off for the evening some of them quite a while ago. The Stores are quiet at this hour, not totally abandoned yet, but definitely quiet, most of the remaining activity the low-level replacing of things, or grabbing of extra towels to re-stock the water caverns as large numbers of residents clean up after a long day's work. Way in the back of Stores, in one of the rooms so recently cleaned up and refurbished, one of the last in fact, a door around a corner or three has been left cracked open, glowlight spilling out into the hallway and a good ear might catch the odd snatch of song as Milani moves about arranging things on a shelf. A far back shelf. A shelf with gleaming bottles and jars. Booze. Jelly. Odd combination. But then it's a bit of an odd storage room, in spite of the cleanup.
Stir-crazy after a few days grounded, bored after a few days with an arm in a sling, N'thei enters the storerooms with the idle gait of aimlessness. He passes the fresh towels and soap, the old furniture and fabric, just strolls through the clean shelves and tidy array of supplies, deeper and deeper still. The snatch of light, the odd placement of a habited storeroom this far in the back is reason enough for him to push open the door with the toe of his boot, to watch a moment with tipped head while Milani arranges booze-and-jam. "Dare I ask."
The swing of the door doesn't alert Milani, busily unloading another armful of jars onto the shelf, but the voice, well, that's hard to miss and she jumps a little, almost guiltily and has to juggle the jars as they tilt a little unsteadily. "You could, I'll bet," answers the assistant headwoman shooting the Weyrleader a sharp-eyed look. "But do come in, and close the door behind you if you like and feast your eyes on what's left of ... certain supplies." An amused smirk curls up the corners of her lips. "How're you holding up anyway? Still missing our traitorous friend? Or distracted in full by more important things?" Her chin lifts just a little, but the expression in her eyes, isn't all that challenging for once.
N'thei steps in, still looking around the storeroom with a casual bemusement to light his eyes, like he's not quite sure that he ought to be caught in a place like this. He swings the door with a knock of his heel though it doesn't click to full closure. "What a man could do in this room if only he had some toast." So saying, he glances across the stores of alcohol and laughs roughly before turning up a smile to greet Milani. "We ought to have jelly rolls some time and get rid of all this excess;" as if she hadn't just asked three perfectly good questions.
Milani finishes stacking those jars and lifts a hand to brush back slightly disarranged hair and leans a shoulder against what's now a perfectly sturdy, solid set of shelving. "Ask and you get? I can go get you some if you really want to taste the fruits of your labors, N'thei. But jelly rolls are a very very good idea. I'll plant the bug in Cook's ear." She grins at him lopsidedly, watching his approach. "And if you're looking for the good brandy ..." she leans to the shelf across the way and reaches up to pat at the bottom of the very very topmost shelf. "I squirrel away some up here. Label-free. You know. For the special clients." Broad wink. She doesn't press about the unanswered questions, just toes the now-empty crate over a little towards its brethren.
"I find comedy in the notion that you think I need you to get me brandy." N'thei raises his eyebrows with mild humor while he makes that point, quirks a contained grin back at Milani's crooked smile. More to a point; "I'll trust you people have made enough room to accommodate the Cromese tithe down here? It ought to be headed over soon." And if he sounds a little too self-confident, let's not read into it overmuch.
"I'm helpful remember. I know you're perfectly capable of going to get your own drinks just about anywhere on Pern. But this is /really/ good stuff, and if you don't want to fly around, or order people around to get it for you, I'm telling you, because I know you can get in here, that /this/ is where to find it. If you'r rather, I can be totally unhelpful and like, never tell you where anything is ever again." Both of Milani's shoulders shift into an easy shrug and she bends to lift up the abandoned crate lid, sets it in place and perches atop it, hands braced on either side of the crate, weight balanced on them as she leans back and crosses one leg over the other, foot bouncing. "Plenty of room. Depends on what they're sending though, it'll all get divided up into the proper categories in the proper rooms. It won't all go in one place."
N'thei's answer to Milani's mouthful at the beginning is customarily terse; "No need." Rather, he goes on to wave his well-working hand in a careless answer to what-they're-sending, the flutter of fingers meant to gloss over the specifics as much as his vague speculation does. "Likely the same things they always send, or the same things that other holds send. Not as much coal as they might have in the past, with the Minehall paying Telgar, but enough-enough." He'd shrug back at the girl, but that might hurt, so he conveys the gesture in the careless rise-and-fall of his voice instead.
"Sure. Sacks of coal will go in with the rest of the coal and foodstuffs by type. I don't think you want me to list off which store rooms stuff goes into." Milani's head cocks to the side as she observes him, eyes bird-bright. "It'll be good to have 'enough-enough'." Beat. "You should be proud of yourself or something. All teasing aside. You're taking care of us. You're doing the job. We won't go cold this winter."
"We didn't go cold last winter either, and I didn't have anything to do with that." Because heaven forbid N'thei just take a compliment at face value! He smiles thinly at Milani, as if to touche her summary just before he finds some way to busy himself. A few easy strides cross the little room, and it's not so hard for him to reach up toward the unlabelled bottles with one hand. "We can talk congratulations when they're due. --What will you people do with yourselves once all this is cleaned up?"
"No. We didn't." Milani's head tilts up and up to watch him reach for that high bottle. "And that did have something to do with you." Persistent in spite of it all. "But all right, I'll hold onto the compliment until later then. When it's due." She laughs a little at the last. "Shells, you know, get back to a /normal/ level of work instead of all the extra? Hayda's an organizational machine. With all this cleaned up, she's got everything running like clockwork now. Don't you worry. She hates idleness. She'll keep us busy. I'm looking forward to, Faranth forbid, a few days off in a row actually."
N'thei gets the bottle down and holds it on his palm, his attention turned down to it the very same as if it had a label with a vintage and a maker and everything useful that a bottle should have. That it possesses none of these things does not deter the focus of his eyes. "To do what?" An attempt at small-talk? Distracted tone aside.
"Read." Beat. Milani's eyes turn up towards the ceiling. "You know. Go visiting." Casually. Very casually. "Things are a little less busy already with the Candidates Impressed, getting jobs or gone home." Her gaze returns to N'thei watching as he turns the bottle. "I took the labels off." And she rattles off the name of the maker and the turn of make. Becuase of course, she remembers stuff like that.
With a snort that she should have seen coming, N'thei echoes, "Go visiting." He barely has time to register the maker, the turn, the vintage totale before he works the cork loose from the bottle; it's not a graceful maneuver given he's holding with his right hand and uncorking with his left, but perseverance wins. "Not my business, but has anything ever happened between you two that gets you so stupidly hopeful?"
"Want help with -- " she starts to offer when the Weyrleader manages just fine on his own, thanks. His question shuts her up for all of ten seconds as she regards him narrowly. "He asked me to. He wants all of his friends to visit. Stupidly hopeful or not, I'm still his friend and Ista's going to be nicer and nicer as the weather here gets grimmer and grimmer, so why the hell not?" Beat. "No. Nothing has happened. I'm pure as the driven snow." She rolls her eyes ceilingward, sarcasm lacing her words. "If you really want to know, he told me to grow up first and come back then, but he was pretty sure I wouldn't be interested anymore."
N'thei gives Milani a look at driven-snow, not buying any bridges today, before he puts the bottle to his lips. Brandy straight out of the bottle, dedicated drinking there. He tests it against his palate, nods satisfaction, then drowns down a longer drink while he sets words to rights before uttering them; "You're not going because you're his friend, hon, and I'm not sure which one of us you think you're kidding with that."
Milani holds a hand out for the bottle. "Share?" she inquires, chin tilted up a little and then she sighs a little at that statement. "No, but I'm not going to push him around either. He wants a friend to come visit, I can be a friend and go visit, whether that's what I want to be or not. Seriously. No fooling."
Pointedly, briefly, N'thei flicks a look to alllll those bottles up there on the shelves then back to the only one he has for himself. "Stupid thing to do, but I already told you what I thought and it didn't land. So here's to the follies of youth." He knocks back one more slug before the bottle goes out toward Milani at arm's length.
Milani takes the bottle by the neck and swigs like a professional. When did she learn to drink? (Okay so it's just one swig). "You said to wait. Then visit. I've waited. But I could always just spend the time swinging in a hammock reading instead." She looks away from him, over at the shelf with all of the gleaming jars on them. "I miss him. That's /allowed/ isn't it? I miss having him around. It was easier to poke at him and get him riled up. You've always got a better one-liner waiting than I do, so I never win." A little grin edges onto her face and she tilts the bottle back up, drinks then hands it back, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
"You don't have to justify yourself to me, hon. If you want to go make a little fool of yourself, I'm all for it." Another tip of N'thei's bottle puts the point to rest. He's in no hurry to drink, least no hurry to get drunk, so he just holds the bottle a while and gives Milani a bland look back for her grin. "Best to just get used to life the way it is. A'son belongs to Ista now. He may not feel it in his blood yet, but he will before long. Nothing for it." He's got one shoulder good for shrugging, and he uses it.
"Why do you care, N'thei?" Milani asks after a moment considering him. "Or are you just trying to get me to leave him alone, because I'm driving him crazy. Because really if that's what it is, you could just both tell me that." She bounces her foot restlessly, then kicks her shoes off and pulls her feet up beneath her, physically sitting on both of them so they don't bounce. This doesn't keep her knees from moving though and they jitter a little as she talks, even with her elbows propped atop them. "I know he belongs there now. But as you yourself reminded me, it's not that far by dragon. Am I just supposed to forget he ever existed? That's like, crazy talk."
Called to the carpet in a way, N'thei answers that first question with a simple smile, with the cork put back in the bottle and the whole mess of it dropped toward Milani from the length of his arm once more. "If I was trying to tell you to leave him alone, I'd tell you to leave him alone. Do whatever you want, Millie." With a particularly crisp enunciation.
Milani takes the bottle back and cradles it in her arms on her lap, looking up at the bronzerider, puzzled now. She doesn't say anything as she rises, pushes the cork in a little further and leans up and up to stow the bottle back up on that high shelf, a little further back and to the side from where it was. "He asked me to write. I've been writing. He asked me to visit. I'll visit. Maybe not this seven, maybe not next, but sometime. What I want, is to still be his friend, even if he falls for his Weyrwoman or some gorgeous Istan. Which will probably happen, sooner or later." When her arms fold across her chest and she turns to look (only slightly) upward at the Weyrleader, it's with rather a tired and defeated look to her. "I'm not really that dumb, N'thei. It's just sometimes easier to get by when you have hope than not to have any at all." She swallows hard, but apparently refuses to cry in front of this man because her chin does that lifting thing again and her eyes widen a little then resettle. No tears here, nope. "You should come with me sometime. Get drunk at that bar they have down there or something."
Whatever he's thinking in answer, N'thei keeps it to himself. Maybe-- contrary to popular belief-- he's not that cruel. Or maybe the cruel part is in staying quiet. He looks straight at Milani while she refuses to cry, winds up with a detached frown that has nothing to do with such personal matters. "I'm going to bed, not Ista, not any time soon. Not that you're keen on my advice obviously, but you better think about doing the same." Once his mind's made up... He's halfway to the door in no time.
Milani bites down hard on her lip but doesn't flinch away from that look of his. In spite of the not-crying, there's an open vulnerability to her face that's usually masked by her cheer. He's clearly hit a nerve. His final words elicit a soft blown out breath and a pursing of her lips, chin dropping towards her chest. "N'thei ..." there might be a protest in that, but finally, she just nods and gives the empty crate another little push, reaches up for the glowbasket and follows him towards the door. Her hand reaches out towards his shoulder, to rest there lightly for a moment unless he walks too fast or pulls away. Rather than adding anything more of any importance though, there's only a quiet, "Good night. Rest well." And once they're both out, she's got the room to lock up with her keys, the glow to lid and put back in the niche just outside, which ought to afford him plenty of time to make a clean getaway.
N'thei never prompts for the protest, never registers that Milani's cut off anything after the sigh and the name. He lingers long enough for the shoulder-touch, glances at her hand with a short-lived smile; "Good night, Millie. Sweet dreams." There's something not-quite-authentic about that, something laden about the innocuous words. He's off in a moment though, leaving her to lock up while he cuts back through tunnels and shelves and out.
IC Date: 9/25/15
Central Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr(#17755RIJM)
Though certain of the Weyr's supplies are stored at the places where they are used, most are kept here, in the central storage complex. A series of caverns grouped around a central corridor, the complex is cut on the grand scale necessary to hold all the items a full and active Weyr needs.
The main corridor is wide and tall enough to admit a laden wagon. The walls are lined with heavy wooden doors, their wide spacing evidence of the size of the rooms behind them. Each of the doors features a posted inventory and map of its room's contents, and there are small piles of returned items beside several, waiting until someone has the time to reshelve them properly. There is a set of hardwood shelves available on a space of wall between two of the doors where people can place items when they are not sure which storeroom they belong in. Scanning the door signs, you note cold stores, dry food stores, rooms for textiles and furnishings, the records room, and the supply closet.
To the south, the corridor opens out to the lower caverns.
It's getting on towards late, most of Hayda's assistants have knocked off for the evening some of them quite a while ago. The Stores are quiet at this hour, not totally abandoned yet, but definitely quiet, most of the remaining activity the low-level replacing of things, or grabbing of extra towels to re-stock the water caverns as large numbers of residents clean up after a long day's work. Way in the back of Stores, in one of the rooms so recently cleaned up and refurbished, one of the last in fact, a door around a corner or three has been left cracked open, glowlight spilling out into the hallway and a good ear might catch the odd snatch of song as Milani moves about arranging things on a shelf. A far back shelf. A shelf with gleaming bottles and jars. Booze. Jelly. Odd combination. But then it's a bit of an odd storage room, in spite of the cleanup.
Stir-crazy after a few days grounded, bored after a few days with an arm in a sling, N'thei enters the storerooms with the idle gait of aimlessness. He passes the fresh towels and soap, the old furniture and fabric, just strolls through the clean shelves and tidy array of supplies, deeper and deeper still. The snatch of light, the odd placement of a habited storeroom this far in the back is reason enough for him to push open the door with the toe of his boot, to watch a moment with tipped head while Milani arranges booze-and-jam. "Dare I ask."
The swing of the door doesn't alert Milani, busily unloading another armful of jars onto the shelf, but the voice, well, that's hard to miss and she jumps a little, almost guiltily and has to juggle the jars as they tilt a little unsteadily. "You could, I'll bet," answers the assistant headwoman shooting the Weyrleader a sharp-eyed look. "But do come in, and close the door behind you if you like and feast your eyes on what's left of ... certain supplies." An amused smirk curls up the corners of her lips. "How're you holding up anyway? Still missing our traitorous friend? Or distracted in full by more important things?" Her chin lifts just a little, but the expression in her eyes, isn't all that challenging for once.
N'thei steps in, still looking around the storeroom with a casual bemusement to light his eyes, like he's not quite sure that he ought to be caught in a place like this. He swings the door with a knock of his heel though it doesn't click to full closure. "What a man could do in this room if only he had some toast." So saying, he glances across the stores of alcohol and laughs roughly before turning up a smile to greet Milani. "We ought to have jelly rolls some time and get rid of all this excess;" as if she hadn't just asked three perfectly good questions.
Milani finishes stacking those jars and lifts a hand to brush back slightly disarranged hair and leans a shoulder against what's now a perfectly sturdy, solid set of shelving. "Ask and you get? I can go get you some if you really want to taste the fruits of your labors, N'thei. But jelly rolls are a very very good idea. I'll plant the bug in Cook's ear." She grins at him lopsidedly, watching his approach. "And if you're looking for the good brandy ..." she leans to the shelf across the way and reaches up to pat at the bottom of the very very topmost shelf. "I squirrel away some up here. Label-free. You know. For the special clients." Broad wink. She doesn't press about the unanswered questions, just toes the now-empty crate over a little towards its brethren.
"I find comedy in the notion that you think I need you to get me brandy." N'thei raises his eyebrows with mild humor while he makes that point, quirks a contained grin back at Milani's crooked smile. More to a point; "I'll trust you people have made enough room to accommodate the Cromese tithe down here? It ought to be headed over soon." And if he sounds a little too self-confident, let's not read into it overmuch.
"I'm helpful remember. I know you're perfectly capable of going to get your own drinks just about anywhere on Pern. But this is /really/ good stuff, and if you don't want to fly around, or order people around to get it for you, I'm telling you, because I know you can get in here, that /this/ is where to find it. If you'r rather, I can be totally unhelpful and like, never tell you where anything is ever again." Both of Milani's shoulders shift into an easy shrug and she bends to lift up the abandoned crate lid, sets it in place and perches atop it, hands braced on either side of the crate, weight balanced on them as she leans back and crosses one leg over the other, foot bouncing. "Plenty of room. Depends on what they're sending though, it'll all get divided up into the proper categories in the proper rooms. It won't all go in one place."
N'thei's answer to Milani's mouthful at the beginning is customarily terse; "No need." Rather, he goes on to wave his well-working hand in a careless answer to what-they're-sending, the flutter of fingers meant to gloss over the specifics as much as his vague speculation does. "Likely the same things they always send, or the same things that other holds send. Not as much coal as they might have in the past, with the Minehall paying Telgar, but enough-enough." He'd shrug back at the girl, but that might hurt, so he conveys the gesture in the careless rise-and-fall of his voice instead.
"Sure. Sacks of coal will go in with the rest of the coal and foodstuffs by type. I don't think you want me to list off which store rooms stuff goes into." Milani's head cocks to the side as she observes him, eyes bird-bright. "It'll be good to have 'enough-enough'." Beat. "You should be proud of yourself or something. All teasing aside. You're taking care of us. You're doing the job. We won't go cold this winter."
"We didn't go cold last winter either, and I didn't have anything to do with that." Because heaven forbid N'thei just take a compliment at face value! He smiles thinly at Milani, as if to touche her summary just before he finds some way to busy himself. A few easy strides cross the little room, and it's not so hard for him to reach up toward the unlabelled bottles with one hand. "We can talk congratulations when they're due. --What will you people do with yourselves once all this is cleaned up?"
"No. We didn't." Milani's head tilts up and up to watch him reach for that high bottle. "And that did have something to do with you." Persistent in spite of it all. "But all right, I'll hold onto the compliment until later then. When it's due." She laughs a little at the last. "Shells, you know, get back to a /normal/ level of work instead of all the extra? Hayda's an organizational machine. With all this cleaned up, she's got everything running like clockwork now. Don't you worry. She hates idleness. She'll keep us busy. I'm looking forward to, Faranth forbid, a few days off in a row actually."
N'thei gets the bottle down and holds it on his palm, his attention turned down to it the very same as if it had a label with a vintage and a maker and everything useful that a bottle should have. That it possesses none of these things does not deter the focus of his eyes. "To do what?" An attempt at small-talk? Distracted tone aside.
"Read." Beat. Milani's eyes turn up towards the ceiling. "You know. Go visiting." Casually. Very casually. "Things are a little less busy already with the Candidates Impressed, getting jobs or gone home." Her gaze returns to N'thei watching as he turns the bottle. "I took the labels off." And she rattles off the name of the maker and the turn of make. Becuase of course, she remembers stuff like that.
With a snort that she should have seen coming, N'thei echoes, "Go visiting." He barely has time to register the maker, the turn, the vintage totale before he works the cork loose from the bottle; it's not a graceful maneuver given he's holding with his right hand and uncorking with his left, but perseverance wins. "Not my business, but has anything ever happened between you two that gets you so stupidly hopeful?"
"Want help with -- " she starts to offer when the Weyrleader manages just fine on his own, thanks. His question shuts her up for all of ten seconds as she regards him narrowly. "He asked me to. He wants all of his friends to visit. Stupidly hopeful or not, I'm still his friend and Ista's going to be nicer and nicer as the weather here gets grimmer and grimmer, so why the hell not?" Beat. "No. Nothing has happened. I'm pure as the driven snow." She rolls her eyes ceilingward, sarcasm lacing her words. "If you really want to know, he told me to grow up first and come back then, but he was pretty sure I wouldn't be interested anymore."
N'thei gives Milani a look at driven-snow, not buying any bridges today, before he puts the bottle to his lips. Brandy straight out of the bottle, dedicated drinking there. He tests it against his palate, nods satisfaction, then drowns down a longer drink while he sets words to rights before uttering them; "You're not going because you're his friend, hon, and I'm not sure which one of us you think you're kidding with that."
Milani holds a hand out for the bottle. "Share?" she inquires, chin tilted up a little and then she sighs a little at that statement. "No, but I'm not going to push him around either. He wants a friend to come visit, I can be a friend and go visit, whether that's what I want to be or not. Seriously. No fooling."
Pointedly, briefly, N'thei flicks a look to alllll those bottles up there on the shelves then back to the only one he has for himself. "Stupid thing to do, but I already told you what I thought and it didn't land. So here's to the follies of youth." He knocks back one more slug before the bottle goes out toward Milani at arm's length.
Milani takes the bottle by the neck and swigs like a professional. When did she learn to drink? (Okay so it's just one swig). "You said to wait. Then visit. I've waited. But I could always just spend the time swinging in a hammock reading instead." She looks away from him, over at the shelf with all of the gleaming jars on them. "I miss him. That's /allowed/ isn't it? I miss having him around. It was easier to poke at him and get him riled up. You've always got a better one-liner waiting than I do, so I never win." A little grin edges onto her face and she tilts the bottle back up, drinks then hands it back, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
"You don't have to justify yourself to me, hon. If you want to go make a little fool of yourself, I'm all for it." Another tip of N'thei's bottle puts the point to rest. He's in no hurry to drink, least no hurry to get drunk, so he just holds the bottle a while and gives Milani a bland look back for her grin. "Best to just get used to life the way it is. A'son belongs to Ista now. He may not feel it in his blood yet, but he will before long. Nothing for it." He's got one shoulder good for shrugging, and he uses it.
"Why do you care, N'thei?" Milani asks after a moment considering him. "Or are you just trying to get me to leave him alone, because I'm driving him crazy. Because really if that's what it is, you could just both tell me that." She bounces her foot restlessly, then kicks her shoes off and pulls her feet up beneath her, physically sitting on both of them so they don't bounce. This doesn't keep her knees from moving though and they jitter a little as she talks, even with her elbows propped atop them. "I know he belongs there now. But as you yourself reminded me, it's not that far by dragon. Am I just supposed to forget he ever existed? That's like, crazy talk."
Called to the carpet in a way, N'thei answers that first question with a simple smile, with the cork put back in the bottle and the whole mess of it dropped toward Milani from the length of his arm once more. "If I was trying to tell you to leave him alone, I'd tell you to leave him alone. Do whatever you want, Millie." With a particularly crisp enunciation.
Milani takes the bottle back and cradles it in her arms on her lap, looking up at the bronzerider, puzzled now. She doesn't say anything as she rises, pushes the cork in a little further and leans up and up to stow the bottle back up on that high shelf, a little further back and to the side from where it was. "He asked me to write. I've been writing. He asked me to visit. I'll visit. Maybe not this seven, maybe not next, but sometime. What I want, is to still be his friend, even if he falls for his Weyrwoman or some gorgeous Istan. Which will probably happen, sooner or later." When her arms fold across her chest and she turns to look (only slightly) upward at the Weyrleader, it's with rather a tired and defeated look to her. "I'm not really that dumb, N'thei. It's just sometimes easier to get by when you have hope than not to have any at all." She swallows hard, but apparently refuses to cry in front of this man because her chin does that lifting thing again and her eyes widen a little then resettle. No tears here, nope. "You should come with me sometime. Get drunk at that bar they have down there or something."
Whatever he's thinking in answer, N'thei keeps it to himself. Maybe-- contrary to popular belief-- he's not that cruel. Or maybe the cruel part is in staying quiet. He looks straight at Milani while she refuses to cry, winds up with a detached frown that has nothing to do with such personal matters. "I'm going to bed, not Ista, not any time soon. Not that you're keen on my advice obviously, but you better think about doing the same." Once his mind's made up... He's halfway to the door in no time.
Milani bites down hard on her lip but doesn't flinch away from that look of his. In spite of the not-crying, there's an open vulnerability to her face that's usually masked by her cheer. He's clearly hit a nerve. His final words elicit a soft blown out breath and a pursing of her lips, chin dropping towards her chest. "N'thei ..." there might be a protest in that, but finally, she just nods and gives the empty crate another little push, reaches up for the glowbasket and follows him towards the door. Her hand reaches out towards his shoulder, to rest there lightly for a moment unless he walks too fast or pulls away. Rather than adding anything more of any importance though, there's only a quiet, "Good night. Rest well." And once they're both out, she's got the room to lock up with her keys, the glow to lid and put back in the niche just outside, which ought to afford him plenty of time to make a clean getaway.
N'thei never prompts for the protest, never registers that Milani's cut off anything after the sigh and the name. He lingers long enough for the shoulder-touch, glances at her hand with a short-lived smile; "Good night, Millie. Sweet dreams." There's something not-quite-authentic about that, something laden about the innocuous words. He's off in a moment though, leaving her to lock up while he cuts back through tunnels and shelves and out.