[Log] Troublemaking
Who: A'zan, Gay, R'uen, Tiriana
When: Day 21, Month 2, Turn 14
Where: Infirmary, Telgar Weyr
What: Tiriana and Gay have girl talk until R'uen and A'zan turn up and Tiriana tries ineffectually to sic the Weyrwoman on A'zan.
Inner Infirmary, Telgar Weyr
This silent sanctum is where the long-term patients (those coming in with more than a stomach-ache from the wrong tunnelsnake) have their cots. The more picky of the weyr residents prefer to lie in here, even if it is not for more than a day, simply because it is so peaceful. The walls here are gently curved, and covered in tapestries of muted colors. Storage lies in the far Corner. The ever present counter with accompanying herbal cabinets follows the line of the room halfway-round the circle. The room's contingent of cots have been pulled out to deal with the continuous spate of injuries from Fall. An area of the counter has been taken over for hot klah and snacks for the healers, assistants, and the riders coming in wounded from Fall. The number of people disturbs this room's usual peace, with the clatter of instruments rinsing in redwort, the urgent whispers of riders and healers, and the echoes of dragons and riders penetrating in from the outer room.
A carved entrance, shielded by a thick tapestry, closes off this section of the infirmary from the outer, noisier parts of the weyr.
Obvious exits:
Outer Infirmary
After dinner, it's quiet enough in the infirmary, still holding a few long-term residents from the botched Fall so many months back. Though Gay seems to have been visiting - now strolling from the back areas with a unusually sober expression - her time here may have had dual purpose, as one hand is lightly bandaged, the wrappings new and white. With a short, forceful breath, she runs a hand through her curls, immediately making them stand up a bit higher.
Even Tiriana is more hushed in the infirmary, her usual loud voice muted as she fails to fend off her own healer: a dumpy sort of woman who's inspecting a bruise on one of the girl's arm, and ignoring Tiriana's eye-rolling and huffy sighs. Tiriana eventually just looks bored when she figures out she can't hurry the woman, and looking around the infirmary lets her see Gay walking up from the back. "What're you doing here?" she asks, watching the Weyrwoman approach.
Gay's got her own issues with keeping her voice down, and it shows in the way she blinks over at Tiriana as she speaks, and gives a knowing grin. Coming up to the healer-Tiri pair with an easy stride, she holds up the bandaged hand with a sheepish smile. "Scraped my hand 'gainst one of the walls in the storerooms. Nothin' major, but it was bleeding, so." With a tomboy's shrug for minor injuries, she braves the healer's censure to peer at the girl's bruise. Arching a pale brow, "How'd you manage that? Or did someone manage it for you?"
"You scraped your hand," Tiriana snort in return. Disdainful, she eyes the bandages on the woman's hand, then shrugs her shoulders, earning a quelling look from the put-upon healer. "Runner, actually--some guy visiting brought in a biter, except he didn't bother actually telling anybody that and then I was the one that got stuck dealing with the thing. It's /fine/, though." This is added as much to the healer as to Gay, as Tiriana sulks. "I only came because R'dur saw it and freaked out. He's a wimp, kept going on about getting some kind of deadly runner disease or something like that. But if it'd shut him up..."
"Pretty pathetic, I know. I really whacked it, though. Been a long time since it was that bad." Briefly thoughtful at that - huh - Gay gives her own shrug, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Or I'm gettin' old. Either's as likely. And that don't sound like much fun." Giving the bruise one last squint before backing away to give the healer room to fuss, she notes, "I haven't heard of any like, deadly runner disease, but I guess it's better to check out than not. What d'ya need to do with a runner that bites? And R'dur's probably just worried 'cause he cares about you. As annoying as that may be." Her tone is light at the last.
"They always say that," Tiriana mutters. "Because they don't have to deal with him. He's /horrible/." Eyes widening, she stares at Gay to emphasize that point. "I mean, come on. Deadly runner disease. Do I have to say anything else. And--I dunno." The problem of what to do with said runner is not one that seems to bother her much. "I'm not messing with it any more. I hope it bites the ass of the guy that brought it in. None of /our/ runners do that. Don't old people bleed easier? And end up with lots of bruises or something?" She swaps subjects abruptly, eyeing Gay's bandaging though her tone's not really malicious. "Maybe that's why it did it."
Wrinkling her nose, Gay admits, "Deadly runner disease does seem a bit - well. Weird. But what're you gonna do? One of my brothers talks to himself a lot, which is sometimes a little messed up. But he's my brother, so." With a wide grin for Tiriana's expression, she too leaves alone the topic of runners - shifting to lean on a nearby counter, she admits, "I don't know. Think you bruise easier, at least. I'm not even close to really old, but imagine it starts sometime. Might be." A pause, then she admits, "At least it got me in here. I haven't visited some of the riders -" A tilt of her head to the back of the infirmary. "In a long while."
"It's R'dur," Tiriana says, with an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. The healer finishes looking at her then, and moves off, while Tiriana pulls her shirt sleeve back down over the bruise. "How old are you?" she wonders then, leaning back slightly and bracing herself with her uninjured arm. "You have to be at least as old as R'dur, and he's old. Like, twice my age." She pauses, though, at the goldrider's latter admission, leaning back forward to peer in the direction the older woman gestures. "Oh. Them. D'you know them or something?"
With sympathy so overly sincere that it can only be mocking, "Oh, poor thing, with people that give a damn about you. Even if they are irritating." Gay offers Tiriana a brief smirk, leaning back on both elbows now and watching the infirmary traffic. By her bearing, she might not be much older than the young woman, but sadly for the goldrider, not so. "I'm thirty," she says, cheerful even for it. "So not /twice/ your age, but close to it. Very close." With a wry grin for that, she shakes her head with a bounce of curls. "Not well. But well enough, and I sorta should. Like, it's what I'm supposed to do." After a moment or two, "What've you been up to?"
"Close," agrees Tiriana, eyeing Gay up and down. "I'm sixteen. And a half." Because the half is very important. "And they don't have to be irritating to give a damn. /Daddy/ never is, after all. And--because you're Weyrwoman?" Her brows knit as she studies the other beds and their occupants, then glances back to Gay with furrowed brows. "I wouldn't want anybody visiting me when they were only doing it because they /should/. And I wouldn't visit anyone just because I /should/, either. I have better things to do. Like, um." She can't think of any of those now, and finally shrugs. "Nothing. I haven't really hit anybody. Hey, did you mean it, about if people mess with me I can tell you?"
Amused, "Ah, of course. 'Daddy' never is." Gay lets her gaze drift back towards the beds along the back of the infirmary before turning back to look down the counter at Tiriana, unperturbed by how ancient she's getting. "It's a little because I'm Weyrwoman. Though wouldn't do much good if I didn't want to in some way - just hard being... on sometimes. Anyway, it's nice to at least give 'em the rundown on what's goin' on in the world. I'd want to know if I was sorta - limited." At the girl's next, she favours her with a brilliant smile. "Progress," she allows. "And yeah, I meant it. Somebody messing with you? Or just pissing you off?" Because she'll help, but she's not stupid either.
Tiriana's nose wrinkles as Gay explains. "Yeah, I guess," she concedes, shoulders rolling again, absently. "But I could get news from anybody. My family, or friends, or... anybody." She frowns, but then Gay's asking her that latter question, and she nods quickly, quite eager. "A'zan," she says at once, firmly. "A'zan is pissing me off." Her expression is expectant, perhaps waiting for Gay to rain fire and brimstone down on said absent weyrling right that instant.
"Some people don't have all of that." Gay offers this up simply, matter-of-fact. "So, kinda good someone looks out for 'em. Anyway, it's bloody boring in here." With an arch of pale brows at the way Tiriana jumps on the question, she manages to suppress any obvious shift in expression, though brown eyes are very bright. "Yeah, he does that," she says slowly, considering the girl's expectant look, then; "Well, what's he doing? And if he's just pissin' you off, I can see if he'll lay off."
The idea that some people may not have the same support structure she has makes Tiriana blink, briefly confused by the notion. She regards Gay dubiously and then shakes her head, dismissing that thought in favor of the latter. Actually being asked to elaborate seems to stump her another minute, and she pushes at her hair idly to stall. "Well," she begins slowly. "He's just... an insulting bastard, basically. He insulted me lots the other night and then he was all condescending and just... You've met him! You know how he is. He needs slugging right in his pretty little face."
Gay leaves it alone as well, apparently content to just sorta let that idea sit with Tiriana. If it stays that long in the first place, that is. She listens to the explanation with due consideration, before; "First, if you think he needs slugging, good on you for not doin' it. I appreciate that, personally. Next, did you insult him too? 'Cause if you start up sniping with someone who likes it, ain't ever gonna end." A pause, then; "He's not really like that with me, but I think he doesn't like people much. Not an excuse, more an explanation. Could talk to him, but I mean - if you get bitchy, he's gonna do it right back, yeah?"
Tiriana looks a little shifty when Gay congratulates her on not hitting A'zan herself; she's not any good at all at hiding what she's thinking, after all. She doesn't say anything, though, as she sulls up somewhat at Gay's answer. "So now it's my fault. So much for you trying to help anything. This is why I have to handle things myself," she retorts, glowering. "I mean, I wasn't any different than ever and he had Kevruth soak me and then he said Cyrra was prettier than me--she's /not/--and then he just ran off to spite me because he's a bastard. I /know/ it was just to spite me."
"It's not /all/ your fault," Gay points out, still all even and calm about things, even in the face of Tiriana's sulleness. "I said I'd /talk/ to A'zan, and he like, listens to me for some reason. So better to tel me than just deal with it yourself, because that leads to punching." Briefly cross-eyed to blow an errant curl from her eyes, "Not any different than ever is still kinda hostile, Tiri. Not everyone's out to get you. Kevruth soaking you ain't entirely nice. But why d'you care if he thinks Cyrra's prettier? People like different things in people." With a glance at the younger woman, she admits, "He can be a bastard, sure. How do you know he ran off to spite you?"
"And you think punching's bad," snorts Tiriana. Then, aghast: "You think she's prettier, too? She's not. And I have a personality. It's not fair. And, er." She breaks off at the latter question, rubbing the back of her neck idly a moment. "Because he's just like that," she decides, with a firm nod. "You can't get rid of him when you don't want him, and then he leaves when you don't want him to. It's spiteful. It was the old 'my dragon needs me' excuse, too--how lame is that?"
With a laugh, "Most of the time, yeah. Punching's bad." Gay shifts a little, still comfortable in her lean, as she grins over at Tiriana. "I never said I thought she was. And she's got a personality. Just hard to notice when bigger personalities're around." She gives a little nod that includes herself in the latter statement, then; "You like him or something? 'Leaves when you don't want him to'. Interesting, that." Her tone is light, even as she sobers a touch. Easily, "Would it be /so/ bad if someone like, paid more attention to Cyrra? For once? Most guys think you're pretty to begin with."
Tiriana looks shifty again, shoulders lifting. "No. I just... He's not supposed to leave /me/." She shakes her head, renewed irritation at that indignity. "Yes," she answers the latter question stiffly. "I mean, well. She's my sister, but--. Everybody likes her anyway, but at least I'm prettier. All the guys would rather have me." She offers that fact defiantly, arms folding across her chest.
"Ah." Gay seems to get it, by the soft assertion, the slight smile. "He don't work the way other guys do, yeah? Well - it's irritating, I imagine." The goldrider rolls her eyes at Tiriana, continuing, "Y'know, bein' the centre of attention and the prettiest all the time, and being able to make boys do what you want, but of one, once in awhile. I'd /love/ to have had your problems awhile back. I had like - B'haus." With a wrinkle of her nose, "Anyway, I got no doubt the vast majority of the guys would be happy to. Don't gotta prove that all the time, though."
"He's worse than R'uen!" Tiriana exclaims, huffing. "I mean, you know he's just too much of a coward, but A'zan's just... spiteful. I--" She breaks off her ranting to blink at Gay. "Who?" she asks of B'haus, and brushes the name off just as quickly. "Well. Can't say I'm surprised, but. I'm not a slut if that's what you mean, though," the girl's quick to assert at the goldrider's latter words. "I mean, just because I /could/ have them doesn't mean I actually want them. Most of them are gross, and ugly, and sleazy anyway. It's just... You know. Knowing I could if I wanted to. Because I really can."
Wryly, "Yeah, I bet R'uen can be a pain in the ass too." Even so, Gay's momentarily a little too amused by that. Ahem. Sobering, she immediately asks, "Coward for what? And if he's spiteful - I dunno. Maybe he figures it's like, turnabout's fair play? I mean, shoot, Tiri. They're smart guys. Can't expect 'em to always jump when you snap your fingers. And I don't think you're a slut, don't worry." Quirking a grin for Tiriana's last, she has to admit, "Sounds like it might be kinda fun. And B'haus - just a guy I impressed with. He was - just not my thing." Tone very polite.
Tiriana grumbles, "Well, why not? They should." She sniffs, but unfolds her arms, relaxing slowly from her fit of pique. "R'uen's just... Why wasn't he your thing--B'haus?" she tries, albeit rather clumsily, to deflect the subject a little. "He have a personality or something? Because E'tyn's just about as bad as Cyrra. Except with less hair," the girl tacks on thoughtfully.
"Gotta find other ways to do that. Sometimes, not yelling at 'em or whatever's a good start." If Gay notices the clumsy shift in subject, she only notes it with an arch of her brow - interesting - before; "He was sorta... socially backward. That's a good way to put it. Plus, I didn't think he was cute - and if I don't think someone's cute, I can't make it happen." Far from insulted at the mention of the Weyrleader, she laughs again, barely keeping it down this time. After a dirty look from a healer, she adds in hushed tones, "E'tyn's sweet. An' he's got a personality - just got to get past all the shyness."
Tiriana does not look one bit convinced that somewhere, E'tyn has a personality. "I've never seen it," she scoffs, waving a hand. "He only show it in bed or something? Because that's all well and good but how're you supposed to figure out he's worth keeping /there/ if you never see it anywhere else first?" Curious, apparently genuinely so, she tilts her head slightly as she puts the question to Gay.
Trying desperately - desperately - not to kill herself laughing in the quiet infirmary, Gay looks to the ceiling to take a moment to control herself. With bright, bright eyes and a cough, the goldrider looks back to Tiriana, amused and amazed. "Man, I hope you never stop asking questions like that. No, it's not only in bed - you just gotta give him like, a few minutes not being harrassed or terrorized to warm up to a person." A pause, and then with wry wisdom, "Personality's no guarantee anyway."
Skeptical still, Tiriana shrugs. "I guess. But that's not much of a personality if it takes him that long to warm up. I mean, I'm fine just meeting people straight away." Pause. "So he /is/ good in bed. I kind of think I didn't want to know that now," she admits. "But I guess I see what you mean. I mean, Giremi doesn't have a personality and--" She breaks off that thought as her expression sours again. "Anyway. I get it, I think."
Gay holds up a hand - the bandaged one again - to swear, "I'll never tell you like, anything like that again. But that was kinda by mistake." Much like Tiriana's accidental admission; with nothing more than a quirked grin and an arched brow, "Some people aren't as outgoing and entertaining as we are, so - takes longer. Doesn't mean they aren't worth talkin' to. You just gotta be in the mood to be patient. But - yeah, I mean mostly... Like, some guys only really talk a good game. Tough to always tell, till you meet enough of 'em to know better. I guess."
A'zan emerges from behind the tapestry leading to the outer infirmary.
A'zan has arrived.
R'uen emerges from behind the tapestry leading to the outer infirmary.
R'uen has arrived.
Tiriana is seated on one of the beds in the middle of the infirmary, talking to Gay, who has one hand bandaged lightly. "I'm not patient," she admits, nose wrinkling. "If they can't do something interesting talking to me, then they're not worth the time. There's lots of guys out there, you know." Pause. She cocks her head slightly, noting, "I don't /really/ mind. It'll be good for embarrassing E'tyn next time I see him--I'll tell him you said he was good in bed and he'll probably curl up and die. It'll be fun." She smirks at that, pleased with her new weapon against the Weyrleader. Then: "How many'd you have to meet to figure out which ones are good and which ones are just talk? That sounds... handy."
"No kidding." Gay sounds shocked, really. Seriously. The weyrwoman leans against a counter near the bed Tiriana's seated on, weight on her elbows. Giving a little annoyed huff to blow another errant curl from her eyes, she continues, "That makes some sense. I mean, you've got to have /standards/. Some people don't, it's sorta pathetic. Like, why bother putting in the time?" With a wrinkle of her nose, she protests, "You can't tell him that! Seriously - otherwise I'll..." A pause. Slyly, "Well, I got stuff on you, now. Quid pro quo, my friend. Let's keep a few secrets, yeah?" Never mind people walking into the infirmary. The nerve. Thoughtfully, "Shards, I dunno." Ruefully, "A lot."
Some noise comes from the outer infirmary, a man's voice calling for attention, though without the strain of urgency. A few moments later a healer pushes the curtain aise to usher a three-headed, five-legged creature into the inner infirmary. That creature is, in actuality, a rather pretty young woman who hops along on one foot held between two tall, dark-haired weyrlings. She seems not only to be in pain but is also red-faced embarrassed by the whole situation as the two young men help her onto the cot. From there, however, the healer takes over, examining his patient's ankle. R'uen is quick to step back, out of the way. He gives the girl an encouraging smile and then turns to look at A'zan. Only beyond A'zan are two rather notable women. His brows go up and the jerk of his chin urges the other bronzerider's attention in their direction.
Where R'uen is smiling and encouraging, A'zan is more neutral, though he does manage to submerge any amusement that might threaten to surface. As soon as the healer takes over he steps toward the door, duty done, but that jerk of Rev's chin draw him up short. "Hmm?" Grey eyes follow brown to the chatting pair and his brows dart up, then abruptly collapse into a frown. "Oh. Uh, we should probably leave them to their conversation," he offers with perhaps a hint too much insistence, nodding his head toward the door. Really though.
"You don't have anything on me," Tiriana says, though her tone is wary: she's bluffing, or trying to. Wisely, though, she doesn't press the subject, instead abandoning E'tyn in favor of standards. "Yeah, everybody has to have standards," she agrees, biting her lower lip a moment. "I mean, better ones than just has to be a man or something. Although that's a good sta...rt." The end of the word trails off as the girl glances around at the commotion stirring up at the entrance. Her brows knit, mouth tilting downward, and folding her arms over her chest she looks very deliberately back to Gay, like she hadn't seen the pair of bronzeriders. Except she tells Gay, "Are you going to get him now? You should get him now. I want to watch."
With a unladylike snort, "Yeah, right - whatever you need to believe to sleep at night." Gay wrinkles her nose at Tiriana, asking archly, "A good start? I thought you said you weren't a -" Pause. What Tiriana may or may not be is left as she glances over to the wounded weyrling coming in, the two weyrlings supporting her. Unable to hide a brilliant, deeply entertained grin, the goldrider offers a little wave of her bandaged hand to A'zan and R'uen before eyeing the girl sitting on the bed. "I didn't say I was going to 'get' him. Damn, girl - does everything like, fly out of your head after five minutes?"
R'uen eyes the two ladies, but his voice stays low, for A'zan. "Well, Gay's got a hand wrapped," he notes, though with a smirk he adds, "But Ti doesn't have a black eye so... You afraid of her now?" he goads grinningly. But with the cant of his head, the way one eye narrows a bit, he's plainly trying to catch bits of their conversation. That expression turns into a broad smile for Gay's wave and he jerks his head again for A'zan to approach with him. If he's man enough, and that conveyed with the twist of his grin. "Who are you getting?" he asks as he nears the two women, shameless barging in. "And what happened to your hand there?"
Gay's had escaped A'zan's notice until R'uen mentioned it, a less than observant moment likely explained by his focus being so centered on the exit. "Afraid of who, Gay or Tiriana?" Dark brows furrow slightly as that could be taken as confirmation of his fear of either one or the other. He hastily adds, "Are you kidding?" Chin up and expression schooled to a blank slate, eyes cool, he follows R'uen with slightly slower steps. Pale eyes flick to Tiriana as he catches her words, there's a faint bunching of a muscle in his jaw and one brow quirks upward. That's how it is, eh? "Evening ladies," he offers in a low tone, then a bit louder, "We can't have our Weyrwoman under the weather now, can we? I do hope these healers have treated you well and that it's not too serious." He offers a faint smile, but it's a pale counterfeit of the real thing for all that his tone is solicitous for once.
Tiriana snorts herself, eyes rolling. "It was a figure of speech," she defends herself, shoulders lifting. "Besides, it's been longer than /five/. I think." She's silent a moment, though, when R'uen approaches and jumps into the conversation. "This might be a private conversation," she sniffs at the pair of bronzeriders, chin lifting. "That's not suited for /weyrling/ ears." She stops short of sticking her tongue out, at least, at the pair of them, though her arms remain crossed. "But for your information, Gay's going to chew you out now because you're a bastard. Especially to me." Her smirk is smug as she fixes A'zan with a look then.
Gay's got an easy grin for R'uen as he makes his way over, as if the interruption is no big deal. Ignoring the question about who she might 'get' in hopes that it'll just pass, "I whacked it 'gainst the wall in the storerooms. The theory is I need bandages 'cause I'm old." With a wry twist of her lips, she shifts her attention to A'zan, arching brows at his odd tone. Tiriana gets a narrow-eyed look at her general attitude before, with infinite patience, "I didn't say that either. And even if it's longer than fiven minutes, point is the same. You can't be pissed at people for being a pain in the ass if you yourself are a pain in the ass. It's the way of the world."
A'zan leans his shoulder against the nearest wall and shifts his weight into it, crossing the now free foot against the other ankle. "Last I checked there weren't any conversation subjects barred, Tiriana, even for us lowly weyrling types." He stresses the 'lowly' with a grimly wry note, shooting a narrow-eyed look at her that borders on a glare. "If Gay would rather we leave I'd be more than happy to get back to my scrolls." His gaze shifts pointedly away from the girl to the woman, brows darting up as if seeking her opinion. His brows dart up a bit then, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Who said you're old? I think you should sic Tiriana on whoever it was - she's got a mean sucker punch if she can catch you when your guard is down." He pauses, adds, "Or at least that's the gossip coming in from High Reaches."
R'uen's reaction is all expression for a few moments. His gaze shifts to Tiriana, up and down to take in the cross of her arms and back up to her face. One eyebrow lifts at the mention of privacy but as she goes on to threaten them he has a hard time pulling of a chastized look for the smile that still plays on his mouth. "The lowest of the low, we are," he says to A'zan with exagerated woe. It becomes a more honest frown for Gay's hand. "Poor hand. Just bruised up? Had I known I'd be bumping into you, I'd have brought your mittens. You could bandage it right on for a nice bit of padding," he tosses out idly, smiling once more. He turns to A'zan as the conversation moves on, "Are you being a pain in the ass again?" he says, completely teasing.
Tiriana's mouth opens and then shuts again as she tries to work herself up into a good pout again. "And then you ask why I feel like I gotta hit people on my own," she mutters. To A'zan, she shoots back, "I'd hate to upset your /dragon/." With a sniff, she sits up a little straighter, ignoring him except for a glower when she mentions her punches skills and High Reaches. Instead, she looks to R'uen to answer for A'zan, "He always is." And then: "Nobody asked me what /I/ was doing in here."
Gay straightens out of her lean finally, either not noticing or pointedly ignoring much of the undertones of conversation, though she does seem just generally amused. With a shrug to A'zan, she says, "I don't mind. Infirmary's open to all, last I checked. And she might, but someone got the drop on her." The weyrwoman is unrepentant about revealing that, adding merrily, "It was Tiri that said I was old anyway. And scraped a bit." She waves off R'uen's frown, though she does note mournfully, "And me with wounded and cold hands. You're a terrible person." Arching a brow high for Tiriana's shot at Az, she notes to the girl lowly, "Said I'd say somethin'. But /you/ said that you didn't have anything to prove, yeah?" Something about that apparently has made the redhead skeptical.
A'zan is distracted from sparring with Tiriana momentarily by R'uen's near echo of his own words and then the teasing jab at the end. He smirks, one side of his mouth twisting upward. "Apparently," he remarks drily with a lopsided shrug. "I breathe, it annoys people, you know the drill." He straigtens just a bit, tipping his chin up though he remains lounging against the wall. "Upset Kevruth? The only thing that upsets him is when he's hungry or feels he needs a bit more oil. So unless you're offering to take over the chore I'd like to see you try." Where she's shootingand sniffing, his words are somewhere between a purr and a drawl, amusement finally settling into his eyes as he sees Gay's not going to kick him out of the weyr just yet. There's a pause then as the banter between Gay and R'uen finally registers and he shoots his fellow weyrling a quizzical look. "You took her /mittens/? Are they like... bright orange with yellow flowers on them?" He waits a beat, then his smirk returns and he adds, "Not that
that'd stop you of course." The teasing covers the lowly spoken words between Weyrwoman and resident, and he for one is sure as hell not going to ask Tiriana what she's doing in the infirmary.
"Oh, I'm remiss on so many counts tonight. I haven't returned the mittens and..." R'uen reaches out as though he might touch the side of Tiriana's arm, but he only come within inches of her to hold the air instead. "Are you alright? Injured? Unwell?" he asks attentively, brows up. Still holding the position that gives Tiriana her due attention, he turns his head to add of the mittens, "Orange, yes. Do they have flowers?" he asks of Gay. "They're in my press so they don't get all gummed up with oil and filth and such." As for who's been punching whom and who should be punchin whom, he lets it all slide by.
"I'm fine. None of your business," is Tiriana's snitty reply to R'uen, even as he asks what she wanted him to ask. She pulls away from his touch, even if he never actually connects with her arm. "You're gay," is all she tells R'uen regarding the mittens, as she sulks in Gay's general direction and tells A'zan, "Liar. And--I /could/ do it. I don't want to, though. Just because I don't have a damn dragon--" She glowers and stops herself, her posture stiff as she lets herself get wound up again. A wary look sideways at Gay keeps her in check for now, at least.
Gay's not kicking anyone out of anywhere, but when A'zan glances her way, she arches pale brows quizzically, clearly curious. Yeah, that should make for a fun conversation later. Dryly, "People breathe, they annoy you, A'zan. So I guess it balances out?" For the guess at the mittens, her eyes narrow a touch, asking, "Anything wrong with that? But no flowers." While R'uen's giving Tiriana the attention that's her due, she asides to the bronzerider, "I see how it is. An excuse to lure me into a half-empty barracks." With a laugh for the idea, she gives Tiri's sulking a grin and a shrug. "Keep talkin'," she says. "Find out interesting stuff that way." Her tone is light, teasing.
A'zan rolls his eyes as R'uen gives Tiriana exactly what she wants, but he breezes past it easily enough, shaking his head over at the man. "I have a half dozen pairs of knit mittens in more manly shades you know. Or are you hoping to keep up the gay thing to get undesirable girls off your case?" Whether he's referring to Tiriana or someone else is left unsaid, and when his eyes dart to the girl it's after her last words. "Since when does /that/ bother you? You're surrounded by people who will ferry you wherever you want to go, and you don't have to risk your pretty little face fighting thread." A measured breath, a firm press of his lips together, and he asides to Gay, "You do have a point there, Weyrwoman. Luckily enough it seems to be the same people, so I guess it all ends up being mutual. Convenient, that."
R'uen's hand drops as Tiriana pulls away, but he doesn't look at all wounded by her rebuff. In fact now he seems to be paying more attention to the whole mitten thing. "They're hers," he attempts to explain, a thumb in Gay's direction. He casts a look to the weyrwoman, shaking his head over A'zan and Tiriana just as the other weyrling shakes his head at him - playful mimicry meant to rib the other bronzerider. "For the record, anyone who wants to give me mittens is more than welcome." But he has to add aside for the sulky young woman, "As long as they don't have fists in them."
"You see? You see!" Tiriana tells Gay, with a hint of whinyness to her tone as she looks from A'zan to the Weyrwoman. "He's pissing me off. That's just /low/, like it's my fault that I--and he called me undesireable. You should do something to him. You can't have weyrlings talking to me like that. My--my uncle's the Weyrsecond." At once desperate and hopeful as she states her relation, she watches Gay expectantly. R'uen's words don't quite register with her now, though they likely will later.
Eyes bright, Gay nods to A'zan - totally convinced, really - "Convienient. And I /unselfishly/ sacrificed my warmth for my mentee, and he's neglected to even /return/ them. It's shockingly impolite." With a smirk for R'uen, she blinks as Tiriana goes into one of her outbursts, tilting her head as she regards the girl. "That makes R'dur the Weyrsecond, but it makes you - his niece. An' that's about it. Everybody's got family 'round here. You're just mad because he finds subtle ways to imply things - I can't do anything about an /implication/. And if I talked to everyone that pissed you off, it'd be like, my only /job/." And she's got a few other things to do. Now and again.
"Well I will see to it that he has a different pair and that you get yours back if I have to return them myself," A'zan offers with a hint of a smirk, though the curve of his lips appears a bit forced. There's another little roll of his eyes and he offers a dry, "Yes, and your daddy is a Weyrleader. Trust me, we are /all/ well aware. Besides, I didn't mean to imply your lack of a dragon was your fault, especially as I assume it is only a matter of time. And I didn't mean that /you/ are undesirable, as if I didn't already make that perfectly- " He breaks off abruptly, eyes flicking to R'uen, then to Gay as he firmly closes his mouth. There's a beat where he fumbles for something else to say, to cover, and with a mustered little grin he says, "You aren't going to hit me either then, Gay? She seems to be under the impression that you'll beat up anyone who gets her slightly miffed. You might have to hire staff to help."
R'uen cocks a brow as Tiriana gets all upset. "What the heck just happened here?" he asks, looking between A'zan and Tiriana like they've both gone mental. He turns to Gay, "I suppose it's no good telling either of them to relax, huh?" rather quietly with a quirk in his smile and a glimmer in his dark eyes for the weyrwoman. That amusement only becomes richer as A'zan so cleanly lays out Tiriana's situation: her father, her future, her expectations. He slips a glance in her direction with his own expectant 'and of course you're not going to take that' expression.
"But--but--" Tiriana tries hard, but Gay effectively shuts her down, except to mutter, "Nobody's ever on /my/ side." Aloud, then, she tells A'zan as he tries to explain to her, "Liar." Beat. "Really?" It takes that moment for it to sink in, and though still dubious, and with her arms crossed, she seems to soothe her ruffled feathers at least a little bit. There's even a hint of a smirk at her mouth as she demonstrates just how moody she can be. "Nothing," is her answer to R'uen. "Go... play with your mittens or something. Gay won't let me use mine on anybody now." But she sounds less put out about that now, matter-of-fact instead of angry.
Gay gives a little eyeroll for A'zan's truncated statement, folding her arms as she murmurs, "Lots of interesting things. And I appreciate the offer. I'm sure I'll live, though." With an amused, brief glance, "No. I said I'd look out for her. But so far as I see -" A glance for Tiriana. "Well, you know what I said about /your/ problems." Wrinkling her nose at the young woman, "Seriously." However, she's rather pleased about the lack of punching, telling R'uen, "No one ever listens to anyone tellin' 'em to relax. But, worth a shot if you want to bother. Anyway..." With a shove away from the counter, "I oughta get some things done. I'll leave ya'll to your drama." She offers an amused smirk for that - and a little salute for the weyrlings. Remember?
A wince passes across A'zan's features as the barbs in Gay's words strike home and he shakes his head. "I don't have problem/s/, there's just one main one at the moment." It's spoken ruefully, as if he's given into said problem, and then just blinks between the two of them, Rev and Gay. "Who isn't relaxed? I'm just giving the girl what she's asking for... it's better for her to be saucy than petulant because no one will play her games, right?" Just when he had her mildly calmer too, though perhaps she'll appreciate the use of saucy in favor of a ruder adjective. The salute draws him up short and the wince reappears, accompanied by a sharp mirror of her gesture. "You have a nice evening, ma'am and... feel better."
R'uen rubs a hand up the side of his face with a rather bewildered look for the two aggitated companions. It's a hand that moves higher to run through his hair, making the front stand up in haphazard directions. Oh, but Gay is ready to leave, he steps back to give her room and returns a quick salute. (They're easy to remember when you see them.) "You have a good evening, Ma'am," he tells her with a broad smile, the words coming out almost in time with A'zan's and remarkably similar. "And I -will- get those mittens back to you soon," he tacks on. But he can't help but slide a glance over Tiriana again, the same once over as before.
Quickly, Tiriana tells Gay, "Wasn't against the rules or anything. Coward." The last to A'zan, though it's only a lazy insult, without much feeling behind it. She just can't seem to help herself blurting out those things Gay seems to find so interesting. She seems disappointed, though, to find the other woman leaving, offering only a reluctant, "Good night," as she gives the two boys remaining dubious looks.
"Yeah, still. Must be tough. Terrible, really." Shooting the young woman a smirk, Gay echoes Tiriana's "Good night," giving her a shrug. Work calls. With an amused glance for the near identical statements from the bronzeriders, she gives them both a nod and a warm smile, then heads on out.
Gay pushes the tapestry aside and enters the outer infirmary.
Gay has left.
A'zan slides his fingers through his hair, though the practiced motion leaves his waves more tidy rather than less - the opposite of R'uen's gesture. "Don't even start with that again, Tiriana. Just like bastard, it starts to lose its edge and grows dull." R'uen's bewilderment will undoubtedly have to be faced at some point, and A'zan slides his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. "Just... don't worry about it, R'uen. Tiriana just delights in getting under my skin and for some completely unknown reason I continue to let her do just that." He flicks a glance after Gay, then lets his eyes trail back to the girl on the cot. With a tone that suggests he's being grudgingly charitable, he offers, "Glad to see she isn't going to send you back to daddy for hitting... or did you fail to mention that bit?" If Rev was quick enough to notice the occasional grimace of discomfort or the way A'zan was guarding his injured stomach during firestone tossing, that last might be a hint to the reason behind it. Or maybe he'll just continue to be befuddled. It's OK, some folks find that clueless bit adorable.
Sure sure, clueless he is. Or at least, not cluefull enough to put all the pieces together too neatly. R'uen jerks his head for A'zan, this time toward the exit. He doesn't say anything to that point, whether it's leaving or just laying off, but perhaps A'zan is better at putting hints together. "She is good at that, at getting under a guy's skin," he agrees, a flash of a smile for Tiriana. "Downright talented."
Tiriana supplies smugly, "Because you like me there," when A'zan mention her getting under his skin. She slides off her bed lightly, tugging her shirt a little. "I told her I didn't /really/ hit anybody. Because that doesn't count--it wasn't hard or anything and it wasn't like it turned into a /fight/," she adds to that weyrling, smirking as she straightens. "I'm going home--R'dur'll be thinking I'm dead or something if I stay here too much longer. Good night, boys." All traces of her earlier foul mood seem to have vanished, as she moves to brush between the pair of them and strut on out of the infirmary.
"True enough, it was more of a playful swat than anything, doesn't count at all," A'zan agrees lightly. He takes R'uen's head jerk as a suggestion to exit and agrees with that more sincerely, returning a nod and pushing himself up straight and off the wall. "Try not to get into any fights between here and the weyr, yeah? Control your talent for five minutes." When she pushes past between them a hand subconsciously slides over his abdomen, and once she's gone he lets out a deflated little sigh. "That girl..." he trails off, no words are adequate and yet safe enough, so he drags on a grin and tips his head toward the door. "Back to the barracks? Dawn laps come early these days and Kevruth is insisting I oil his back again before I can turn in."
Oh, there go the piece, or more of them at least. R'uen lets Tiriana go slipping between him and A'zan, but his gaze is for the other bronzerider, a laughing, knowing look over the girl's head. He lets Tiriana pass by without a comment, though he will spare one more glance for her retreating figure just before it passes from view. "Back to the barracks," he agrees, still smirking shamelessly. "Unless you're chasing..." he adds with a thumb toward the exit as they turn toward it.
"Chasing?" A'zan shakes his head with a snort of laughter. "Hardly. I'd need a stiff drink and that at least, is still not allowed." Turning on a heel, hands in pockets, he strides off beside his fellow bronzerider, hoping that smirk will be the only comment his friend will make.