[Log] Meet the Parents

[brazenbronzer]

Who: Bafton (NPC), Larufus (NPC), R'uen, Sersa (NPC), Tiriana
When: Day 11, Month 12, Turn 15
Where: Stables, Telgar Weyr; Woodcraft Hall
What: R'uen and Tiriana have dinner with his parents. No one dies.

R'uen stops by the stables one day, simple as that. His head pops over a stall, but finds no one home by a scraggly old runner. Next one: empty. And so on and so forth until he comes to a stall that holds not only a horse but a girl as well. "Hey," and with no other preamble. "Do you have dinner plans or anything?"

Just putting that particular runner away, Tiriana releases it and turns to leave, jumping when she finds R'uen there. The runner throws its own head with a snort, and Tiriana quickly turns to settle it, shooting a look back at R'uen. "Fuck, don't /do/ that," she demands, with a huffy snort of her own to match. She pats the runner, then edges away from it to the door and the rider, pausing. "No," she begins, warily. "Why?"

R'uen waits for her to get the runner under control before he quirks an amused grin at her, a lifted brow. "Don't stand here looking so awesome that it still surprises you every time you turn around?" He really doesn't expect her to answer that, or wait for one. "Want some? Dinner plans."

"Don't scare me. The runners." And Tiriana flicks her fingers at said runner, which breathes easier for having her not jumping around it. To R'uen, "What sort of plans? With you?" Confused /and/ wary.

"Yeah," R'uen answer, focusing more on the dinner discussion than whatever the runner needs. "Want to do something for dinner tonight?"

Tiriana breathes out an impatient breath, but nods. "Fine, okay. We can have dinner," she answers. "So are you going to tell me what's this all about now, or...?"

"What all what is about?" is R'uen's rather innocent return, giving her a little expectant sort of look, as though explanation should follow. And yet again, he doesn't really leave that sort of time. "So I'll have Zaiventh keep an eye out for you in the bowl and we'll go, huh? After you're done and cleaned up and all." A hand reaches for her neck, or tries to, so that he might pull her cover for a quick kiss on the forehead.

"I hate you," says Tiriana, apparently her favorite term of endearment. It's accompanied by a roll of her eyes, though she does lean in to let him kiss her. Resignedly, she asks, "How cleaned up is cleaned up?"

"A bath and clean clothes?" But R'uen has a smile as he sneaks another ksis onto her brow. "It's not like last time. Wear whatever you want." He lets her go, taking a few step backwards and ready to leave her. "Alright?"

"Just checking," Tiriana answers with a shrug when she leans back, gives him a brief frown. "Fine, fine. I'll be ready. Now some of us have to work?" Pointed look, for all his interruptions.

R'uen gives her a little bow, his apology for taking up so much of her time. And then he turns on a heel to head off. And, as promised, when she's ready to go, Zaiventh is lingering in the bowl beneath his ledge, waiting.

Antsy throughout the rest of the day, Tiriana eventually gets finished with her day's chores and stalks from the stables to the baths, and from there in freshly-scrubbed fashion out to where Zaiventh waits. Her pace slows as she nears, and she glances around for R'uen, even as she tells the bronze, "This better be good." The put-upon air doesn't work to hide her anticipation very well.

Zaiventh just has a rumble, a spread of one wing in some unwittingly sweeping gesture that could mean anything. But the hunkering down is surely means that it's time for her to climb aboard.

And Tiriana does, without much more than some under-her-breath grumbling. She hauls herself up Zaiventh's side, settling into place aboard him. "Okay, let's go," she says then, with a sigh.

With the usual rough leap they end up on the ledge and R'uen is already waiting, dressed in his usual dapper style but without anything particularly flashy to mark the occasion of dinner. "Hey. Ready?" Though she's the one aboard and he's the one climbing up to settle behind her with that arm wrapped around her middle.

"I suppose," agrees Tiriana, with a nod as R'uen settles in behind her when they reach the ledge. She leans back against him, with a faint frown. "So where," she begins, but doesn't go any further. Instead, she decides, "Just go already, I'm tired of waiting."

And so without further ado, Zaiventh takes off, winging into the sky, blinking into the absolute empty of between and out again over the rich forested lands of the woodcraft hall. Down he swoops to land with his usual heaviness: tah dah, I am here. And then R'uen is quick to dismount and offer his hand up to Tiriana.

Tiriana doesn't really recognize this place, her brows furrowing up when she glances down at the forests and the hall below. Ill humor vanishes, though, the lower they go, replaced by curiousity; she directs such a look back at R'uen when they finally land and he helps her down. "So what are we doing /here/? What are you buying me?" Her voice is distinctly hopeful on that question, expectant.

"What are you gonna do with furniture?" he asks. "Did you get a place for yourself? Need a nice big salad bowl?" R'uen gives Zaiventh a hearty slap on the saide before the dragon takes off, leaving them in the courtyard. "So," he says with an exhale that sounds a bit nervous. "This is where I'm from."

"Doesn't look like much," Tiriana notes, with a light hit at his side for the teasing. "No. Well, could always use more furniture, I guess, but--a salad bowl, seriously?" She snorts, shakes her head, and then stops abruptly. "Wait," she begins, when things finally start registering. "We're not--" She can't even bring herself to finish.

R'uen just sort of watches her, his expression caught in a sort of wistful half-smile to be witness all her little reactions, even the hit for his side. He reaches for her hand and also for her waist, turning her for the nearby doorway and pressing her onward. "We're not buying furniture," he finishes for her.

"I'm not going, you can't make me," Tiriana protests, trying very hard to set her heels against proceeding any further forward. It's ineffective, however, and though she drags her shoes, she's still pulled inexorably along by R'uen's hand at her waist. Still, that doesn't mean she goes without a lot of curses and a list of increasingly violent punishments for R'uen.

And so R'uen's hand stops its gentle push. "We don't have to. Well, I have to stop in if you don't want to stay; they're expecting me. But if you're not interested, we can go home." He even manges not to sound hurt or upset or anything, though perhaps there's a flick of something disappointed in the dark eyes that don't quite meet hers. "The food is really worth it, though." Brows go up as he finally does make that vaguely hopeful eye contact.

Tiriana bites her lip, dodges those eyes by affixing her own at the ground and the courtyard itself. She looks vaguely pained by the entire affair, and a fair bit guilty, too, when she finally sighs and nods. "Fine, okay. Just get it over with already," she concees, shuffling a couple more steps forward. "But you owe me big time. Again."

"We won't stay long," R'uen tells her, a compromise as he gives her hand a squeeze. "They have no idea that I'm bringing anyone with me, so you've got the drop on them, huh?" And since she's just sort of acquiesing, he'll give her waist another little nudge forward to aim them down a the nearby corridor.

Though she doesn't have to look happy about it, and she's certainly not moving with enthusiasm, Tiriana goes along with the push, letting R'uen guide her down the hallways he knows. "Dunno which'd be worse, them knowing or not. Should have warned them, and I swear, if they say one thing about--anything, I'll... Fuck. You should have fucking warned /me/." Because she doesn't even know what she'll do should they say something to her.

"Don't worry," R'uen says with a smirk forming on his lips. "They don't know a thing about you. Just stand there and look pretty, you can do that, huh? - Besides, if I'd told you, you'd have fret yourself into a frenzy. Just relax." It isn't long until they stop at a doorway and he gives her one of those big boyish grins. "Ready?"

"Fuck. I'm going to kill you," Tiriana mutters one last time. A beat later, as she eyes that door, she amends, "I'm going to get /my/ daddy to kill you. He's meaner. Just--get it over with already." Impatient in voice, if not in manner; she takes a step just a little closer to R'uen, as though he's going to protect her from whatever lurks behind that door."

The door opens: There's nothing unusual about this family. Dad is a tall slim man, he's got a chair turned upside down on the table and he's examining one of the legs. Mom is short and stocky and just about done with dinner. Brother is a bit pudgy around the middle, a thicker, rounder version of R'uen right down to the teeth, and at the moment he's picking out of the dish that Mom is still preparing. She threatens him with the spoon and he laughs at her and sucks his fingers clean. And R'uen has his hand at the small of Tiriana's back, gently but surely steering her into this scene. The family stops what they're doing collectively to look up at the doorway, at R'uen, at the girl with him and then, with lifted brows, back at R'uen. Mom is the only one who speaks. "Oh you're here. A moment later and Larufus would have eaten the whole thing and not left you a sliver. Who is this?" She's wiping her hands on her towel and coming at Tiriana with her hands up to grab the girl by the shoulders. "Why look at you. You're a thin thing. Look at those little arms." Her hands slide down to Tiriana's biceps. "You brought her because she's starving, huh? Come on in, come on in. Have a seat. Bafton, get that chair off the table. And wipe it down." R'uen, for his part, just grins and gives Tiriana another nudge forward. "Hey." Some introduction.

Tiriana just stares at the tidy little domestic scene arrayed before her when they enter; her eyes widen as she looks from family to R'uen and back again. Not quite knowing what to say herself, she tries to recover with a haughty air and lifted chin; the detachment is short-lived, however, when she's being manhandled by Mom. Scowling, she pulls back, one of her own hands sliding up to her arm protectively. "I am not! That's not why," she counters, defensive from the get-go. "There's nothing wrong with my arms. /R'uen/." She gives him a pointed look when he gives her another push forward, toward the rest of them.

R'uen just has one of his boyish laughs for Tiriana's reaction, echoing the move of her hands with his own and steadying her with another grip of her shoulders. "I did bring you here to eat," he points out. Meanwhile, Dad is doing just as he was bid, taking the chair and setting it down, wiping the table and rearranging the plates that got pushed aside for his spontaneous craftering. Larufus takes this chance to steal a bit more food, but he's got eyes mostly for R'uen and a big, obnoxious smirk on his face. "Oh come now, dear. No harm meant. You're just a lovely stick of a thing. Or, what would be better. A flower, you're a little stem. A sprig. Come on in, have a seat. And that's right, you give him a good scolding," with that she's clapping R'uen on the shoulder to urge them both to the table. "Give him one for me for giving us a surprise like this." And over her shoulder. "Larufus, finish that up for me. We've company."

"Oh, he's going to get plenty," Tiriana announces to the room at large in a dark voice, glowering still at the bronzerider in question even when she finds her feet shuffling reluctantly toward the table. The little family earns another look, more studious, as she approaches, mom and dad and elder brother (the latter with a snickered undertone of "Larufus?" when she picks up the name). She concedes, in a concentrated effort of politeness, "Maybe a flower. --I /told/ him he should have damn well warned people. Like me."

Thankfully the family misses the undercurrent of her laugh, though R'uen doesn't and he gives her a quick squeeze, smile never faltering. "You don't really mine an extra for dinner, do you?" he asks his mother as he lets Tiriana go and pulls out her chair. But Larufus has the answer. "Even if she did, I'm not staying so it all works out. I'm meeting Farula in a few." And he's meanwhile putting the finishing touches on dinner as if it was performance art: a pinch of this, a dollop of that, all with great big gestures. Mom and Dad have dropped themselves at the table, the former still grinning rather excitedly. "He surprised you too, huh? Oh, I'm sure he was just getting up his own nerve. Probably afraid we'd be ready with all sorts of stories about him as a little boy and that time he put all of his underwear on at once so that his butt was like a watermelon." R'uen just closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Now tell me, dear," Mom continues, "What's your name? You're from Telgar I'm guessing? Unless he's been galavanting all over, like we all imagined." She gives R'uen a look, but he's still smiling away, unfazed.

Tiriana responds to that squeeze with a sigh as she seats herself heavily in the chair R'uen pulls out for her. "He has?" She apparently takes Mom at face value when she mentions gallivanting, head tilting back to give R'uen a brows-furrowed look. It's followed a beat later by, "You did?" as the story sinks in and she snickers once more. But then, stiffening back up at the question directed to her, she looks back to his mother. "Tiriana. From Telgar, yeah. Well, Ierne, originally. My daddy's the Weyrleader." Good to get that out on the table at the start, so earnestly--just short of begging 'please be impressed.'

Poor R'uen, he really has a hard time not letting out one of those boyish laughs for the mention of certain daddys. "Is he? My word! Well you're quite an honored guest, then. And Tiri - Larufus, get that food on the table? What are you doing over there - Tiriana! What a lovely name. So your father is Ierne's Weyrleader? Whatever brought you all the way up to Telgar?" As for R'uen's father, with word that dinner is coming, he picks up his silverware.

Tiriana breathes a sigh of relief, looking smug and more settled when she gets the reaction she so desires. It's certainly a comfort in an otherwise awkward conversation. It certainly makes her more talkative, too, eager to continue on about her famous relations while Larufus gets dinner finished up. "My uncle is--well, was--" how she still sounds faintly bitter over that development "--the Weyrsecond and Daddy pawned me, and my sister, off on him. It was a few years back, anyway, when I was about twelve. Daddy didn't exactly warn R'dur, either, but /that/ was just funny, the look on his face." She gives R'uen another pointed one, to emphasize the contrast between those two surprises.

"Twelve?" Mom latches onto that. "And you're how old now? A lovely young lady, obviously. Of course, with such fine breeding, how could you be anything but!" Finally Larufus sets the meal to the table: marianted and steamed wherry with vegetables and fresh bread and butter and creamy soup of some sort. He steals a strip of wherry and dangles it into his open mouth, sucking his fingers clean. Thankfully, it's the other hand he offers to Tiriana. "A pleasure to meet you. Too bad about your taste in men." He winks at the pair from Telgar and announces. "I'm off." He leaves, but Dad hardly seems to notice. He's helping himself to a plate of food. R'uen is helping himself also, or rather, helping Tiriana, portioning dinner onto her plate. "Kinda like the look you were wearing a few minutes ago?" he tosses in for R'dur's surprise. "Mom, let her eat a bit." - "Oh that's right. Yes. Eat up. Both of you are all bones. Revuen hasn't had enough flesh on him since before he took up with logging. Slimmed right down to nothing and stayed that way." Which might imply that at one point, he wasn't so slim.

"Eighteen," Tiriana answers, somewhere between proud and challenging about that fact. Under her breath, she adds as she glances down to watch R'uen parcel out her dinner. "Yeah, how could I." Which is about when it registers what he's doing. "Hey, I can feed myself," she tells him, pursing her lips. "I'm not a baby. I'm eighteen." Just in case he didn't pick up on that. And her attention darts between the trio of family members--the silent father she could actually like; the mother who keeps questioning her; the brother that's on the way out, which relieves her even as she bristles at his words. "There's nothing wrong with my taste, not that I--" What she doesn't is left off, though she shoots a rather shifty look at R'uen. Tiriana, instead, reaches to pick up her silverware, too, and tentatively poke at the wherry R'uen has put on her plate already. On the heels of his mother's latter words, however, she can't help but ask, brows raising, "You were fat?" Smirk. Maybe this visit wasn't such a bad idea after all.

R'uen has her plate about done by the time she notices, "Just serving the guest of honor," he tells her, smirking at her for the title she's acquired. Then he's putting food on his own flat and looking, oh, just the tiny bit sheepish about the fat thing. "Pudgy," he corrects around a mouthful. Meanwhile, Mom just keeps going. "He was lovely. A healthy boy." But don't let that cast any aspersions on her judgement of lovely. She seems to be eating, but it's a miracle that she can with her mouth going as it does. "So are you a rider as well, Tiriana?"

"Fat," Tiriana repeats, more pleased, even with half a smile for that fact. Amazing. There's just the barest hit of relaxation in her movements as she settles to dinner, another poke for the wherry and then finally a bite she barely gets swallowed before the latter question. Then she stiffens back up again, shoulders setting, mouth drawing into that line again. "I'm a stablehand," she answers. "I work in the stables. And I like it there.""

"Oh now you're just teasing me," Mom says with a wave of her fork for Tiriana's jesting humors. "Imagine a pretty thing like you, with a family like yours, working in the stable with a bunch of dirty men. Of course, probably nothing like Revuen was when he was here, out for weeks at a time with nary a shower. Oh, those boys do come home ripe. It's a wonder the can stay conscious, all of them together and stinking up a storm. Of course then he'd come home and... well, he does shine up nice, doesn't he. But thin!" And for that she's ladling some soup into both of their bowls. Dad holds his bowl up, just in case he can get some, but she drops the ladle and he'll have to do it himself, which makes him glum, not that there's much difference. "How's it going?" R'uen asks his father. The man nods.

Tiriana looks almost as glum as Dad, her head ducking slightly under the barrage of R'uen's mother; she twirls a spoon in the soup before taking a bite of it, too. "I like it," she repeats, stubbornly, with a rather urgent look to R'uen for support. "There's nothing wrong with it and it's not bad. And anyway, my mother did it, before she impressed--she was a goldrider." Since she hasn't mentioned that important relation yet. "And I take baths every day, too." Just in case that was in question.

"Was? Oh, dear, has she passed. It is a shame for a girl to lose her mother. My own mother passed when I was quite young. And then I grew up to live in a world full of boys. Boys all around. Thank goodness Delibra let's be fawn all over her and pretend she's my own daughter - that's Jaseran's wife, he's my oldest," Mom points out. "Were you young?" Little lights go on over your head. "Oh, was that when you moved to Telgar? Oh you poor dear." R'uen's hand moves from his lap to Tiriana's leg, but otherwise he keeps eating, as does his father.

"We weren't, um, close or anything. Really. Exactly," Tiriana fumbles to explain, with another look at R'uen, this time accompanied by a kick at the side of his leg, under the table. "I always liked Daddy better. Anyway, it was a long time ago, when I was seven, and that's not it at all. I went to Telgar 'cause..." She trails off, though, with a frown. "Daddy had his reasons, I know, and I was fine. I like boys better, anyway--girls are annoying, most of them. Even my sister."

"Oh a regular pretty little hoyden, are you?" Mom says with an indulgent grin, though her gaze does slip toward R'un, something of an 'oh really' sort of look. Perhaps tomboys aren't his usual taste. R'uen mostly misses it, since he's reaching under the table to run his freshly kicked leg, but he's quick enough to add, "She throws a mean punch, too." As for R'uen's own daddy, he just flicks a look up over the table, Tiriana, then his son, then his wife. Then he goes back to eating.

"A what?" says Tiriana, who starts to look flattered, then offended, and then to R'uen for interpretation, since she doesn't know which she could be. His addition is met with just a little bit of relief, and she nods. "I do. I beat the shit out of this guy at the Reaches, you know--one of the thieves, he's leading Ista now I think--back when we were having those problems with them and Crom. It made a diplomatic incident," she expounds, rather eagerly. With a smug smile then, she takes a couple of bites of her own food, then pauses. "But that was a long time ago, years now," adds the girl, rather more cautiously, as though she's feeling out what effect that might have now. "Haven't done that in a long time. Gay threatened to throw me out."

Are those crickets? Because all of that gets another look from the parents, both of them, even Bafton. R'uen tucks his head down a little, but it doesn't hide the thoroughly entertained smile that so definitely threatens to turn into one of those boyish laughs. Mom does manage to break the silence, putting a smile on her face that's all but indentical to the ones earlier. "With those little arms?" A warm teasing, but she's still left without much else in terms of response. Instead, she ladles more food onto Tiriana's plate, and then R'uen. "Eat, eat."

Definitely crickets. Tiriana just looks back, with a rather blank expression of her own for several seconds, until she sneaks another look sideways at R'uen. That smile earns him another kick under the table--how dare he find this amusing!--and even, this time, a hissed and unsubtle, "/R'uen/." At least she keeps her mouth firmly clamped shut regarding the subject of her arms this time, instead muttering a thanks when his mother ladles out more food and she sets to eating quickly.

R'uen just gives a little cough, his attempt to shed the remnant of that chuckle from his voice. "So, Larufus is still seeing Farula? Even after she had that thing with Urober?" A nice change of subject, we'll focus on someone else's crazy girlfriend. But it -is- something that Sersa latches onto quickly enough. "Oh yes. They're getting quite serious, I think. Urober is all but forgotten." That gets a snort out of dad. "And you know, I think that Delibra might be with child again. Oh, I do hope its a girl this time. They haven't said anything but she has that look about her. And you know she normally eats like a logger and now she's picking at everything and turning her nose up." This is such a clever observation that she's now wearing a very proud knowing smirk. R'uen just lifts his brows. "Well that's good news. It'll keep Jaseran busy." Mom keeps going though. "Oh, a little girl with his dark eyes and her blonde hair. Won't that be a sight, Bafton?" Dad just nods.

Tiriana certainly looks relieved for the change, her shoulders relaxing a hair as she continues eating while the love life of Larufus gets put on the table. But then... Oh, how she starts looking just a little bit uncomfortable again when the subject of pregnancy and children gets broached. Much like the aforementioned Delibra, she starts picking at her own food, and finally tries, "So... Larufus took her back? Just like that?" Because affairs are so much better dinner conversation than children.

"Well, there was a good deal of drinking," R'uen says, his smile so broad that perhaps his return to the affair topic is deliberate. "It didn't really go on for all that long, either. Of course, I wasn' here so..." He'll defer to the master. "Oh, Farula had some long thing with Urober. On again, off again. You know the sort. Though really, I don't know if it was him or her that couldn't stick to it. I think it was likely him. Womanizer underneath it all. He's turning out just like his mother. With a face like that, you'd think he'd play his cards right and settle down but... Really how could she resist our Larufus? And she's a healthy-figured girl, so it's really no wonder that a cook should win her in the end, is it."

"I don't think /I'd/ want her, if she just kept..." But Tiriana trails off after a moment, glancing between R'uen and his mother and his father (who might be the safest of all of them). A moment later, however, a frown tugs her mouth downward again. "Yeah, how could she," she finally says, slowly, in a rare moment of tact and good sense. "I mean... with what they say about hearts and stomachs and ways to them and... yeah." She tries, she really does.

And for all that trying, Tiriana gets a squeeze on her thigh, a stolen sideways glance and a smile from the bronzerider who brought her into this mess. "That's how I can tell she likes me," R'uen declares, poking his fork toward Tiriana as his grin turns puckish. "That was downright sociable. Not bad for a girl who punches Weyrleaders. Didn't you take a swing at Reaches' Weyrwoman too?" He seems totally content to let his mother blink at that. His father seems more intent on eating the food before those crazy kids can get to it first.

"Only 'cause she told me to, first," Tiriana answers, both mollified with and proud of that squeeze, R'uen's defense of her this time. She doesn't even argue about liking him, see! Although she does have to tack on for his parents' benefit, "And anyway, she punched me for it, so. She was a real--Weyrwoman." Not quite the word her mouth looks to be forming at first, but a fitting one all the same; it still makes just a little twitch of her own smile return, pleased.

"Did she punch you in the face? I was holed up in some weyrling lesson, likely. I missed seeing you with a nice big bruise," R'uen muses. "Did you get a black eye?" Mom, meanwhile, is still deciding what to make of this sort of discussion, if not the rowdiness than how very high profile some of the participants are. "My word. Are you hoping she got a black eye? What a terrible thing!" But R'uen is quick to his own defense there. "It was all before me," he tells her, as if that washes away whatever hoping he might do now in retrospect. And he pushes his plate back. "I don't think I can eat another bite. This was good." And indeed, during all his quiet, he has shoveled it away pretty well.

"It was a good one, too," says Tiriana, with a quick nod to R'uen, a broad, even excited, grin. "She can actually hit--you should have seen it." Unlike him, she's lagging in her eating, the trials of polite conversation slowing her down, but at his prompt she takes several more bites herself, working on finishing up. She adds, "Wasn't /that/ before. I mean." Beat. Hastily again, to Mom, "I don't mind black eyes--I mean, you're not so pretty for a few days, but you look tough instead, like you're not afraid of anyone, so it evens out."

"Did you have an eye for me all the way back then?" R'uen continues to tease. "Always full of surprises. You just about done?" he wonders, looking over at her plate and steal a nice bite of meat for himself. Meanwhile, Mom makes nice: "Well that is true. Of course, I don't think I ever looked all that tough until after I started having kids. It wasn't until then that I was able to give 'the look'. When Revuen was hardly out of his nappies 'the look' would make him cry. That's my sensitive boy. Of course, by that point, I'd had plenty of experience. And he grew out of it quickly enough." But R'uen is making those leaving noises. "Oh, let me pack up some pastries for your to take with you," she says, getting up from the table to bustle around by the little hearth.

"No," Tiriana retorts quickly to R'uen, and takes a great deal of interest in what his mother says, not just for its content, entertaining though that is. "So you were fat and you cried," she summarizes her night's learning with an undeniably smug smirk for the rider. Then: "Pastries, too?" She eyes her almost-done plate, then the woman bustling back to the kitchen, and just shakes her head, marveling perhaps. She does hurry to clean up the plate, though.

"Well, you see why I haven't brought you around sooner, huh?" R'uen tells Tiriana for all her revelations. "Lies. All of them." And then finally, after all of this, Dad opens his mouth. His fork pauses and he fixes a look on Tiriana as if he's just been introduced this moment. "So, you're Revuen's girl?" sounding rough and rather like he should be clearing his throat.

Beat. Tiriana looks startled by the new voice, jerking her head around to blink at Dad. And to promptly blurt out, "You /talk/." It's another amazing discovery of the evening, apparently, surprising enough in itself that she seems to forget the question for several seconds. But then she remembers; her eyes cut from father to son. "Um." Another glance between, then a half-nod, head ducking. "I guess? --Yeah, sure."

Bafton gives R'uen a look for that, perhaps there's something in his expression that the bronzerider can read, but it's not readily available otherwise. And if R'uen does read something there, it doesn't dampen his smile, sort of foolish and proud and laughing. He pushes himself from his seat and moves to pull Tiriana's out as she stands. "Thanks for dinner. It was amazing as always. You really don't have to go through all this trouble. We could eat in the hall." But Mom is coming back with those mysterious pastries in a little sack. "No no. Nothing makes me happier than to cook for my boys. And their girls." Added in. Dad has gone back to his meal.

Tiriana actually blushes slightly, her cheeks pinkening as she twiddles her fork in the remains of dinner; the arrival of pastries is welcome as she stands back up. "It was really good," she seconds R'uen, with a nod. "Nobody in my family cooks. You just kind of fend for yourself, for dinner and stuff, so... Thank you?"

"Well you come back here any time and we'll feed you, honey," Sersa assures, giving Tiriana a pat on the cheek as she hands her the bag of dessert. And then she moves in for the hug, a big, maternal bear sort of hug. One for Tiriana and a big long one for R'uen. There's plenty of 'we love you', 'come back soon' for R'uen, last minute queries over Zaiventh's well being otherwise absent in the wake of their 'guest of honor'. Bafton has just a not for his departing guests and finally, the door closes with R'uen and Tiriana out in the hall. THe bronzerider is giving her an entertained look, like he's checking to make sure she's survived.

When hugged like that, Tiriana doesn't know what to do; probably just another thing her family doesn't do. A little bit of flailing ensues before she awkwardly pats Mom on the back with one hand, the other hand clutching the bag of pastries until she's freed and somehow finding herself out the door in a whirlwind. And the first thing she does? Aim a fist right at his stomach, the usual exasperated but somehow still companionable blow. "I'm going to fucking /kill/ you for this," she hisses at him, voice fortunately lowered a little for the parents who might yet be listening behind the door.

The parents might not hear voices, but they probably hear their son stumbling back against the door when his beloved nails him one in the gut. R'uen coughs, but eeks out a smile even still. "I thought it went pretty well," he tells her, not bothering to whisper of anything. Righting himself, a hand still on his stomach, he reaches for her wrist. "I think you punch me more now that you like me. You're such a twisted... what was it? A sprig?"

Unapologetic, Tiriana starts to fold her arms over her chest until letting him catch one, with a sniff. "Among other things," she answers that. "And I do it 'cause I know I can get away with it," which just makes her smirk, raise an eyebrow as if to say 'what are you going to do about it.' However, her eyes flick past him to the door again, before the girl adds on, "I don't think they liked me. Not that it matters, but. Least I got dinner out of it--but they're so... /normal/!"

And with the wrist he catches, he just pulls her along side him so that they can walk together, his grasp slipping down to hold her hand. "What happens when I start punching you back?" Not that he expects an answer. "Why don't you think they liked you? What's not to like? It's not like you're messing around on me or anything. Breaking my wee little heart. Are you?" R'uen gives her another little tug, so that she might just bump into him while they walk.

"Told you, I can take it. I don't mind black eyes," counters Tiriana, with a half-smile for that as she lets him slide his hand in hers. The gesture earns a brief glance down at their hands but she doesn't say anything, and indeed lets him tug her over, her shoulder bumping his when she shoots him a rather miffed look for his question. "They just didn't seem... impressed. They just kept staring at me every time I said something. They think you, you know. Deserve better, or something. Parents always think that."

"You didn't think my mom seemed impressed? Do you know how many times she's even spoken to a Weyrleader or a Weyrwoman? And you've got them for parents. You go around sluggin' 'em. You take for granted all sorts of thing she can hardly dream about. I'd say she'd probably impressed," R'uen tells her with a wry sort of grin that might make it hard to tell whether or not he's actually telling the truth just now. "Do you want to go back or do you want the tour?"

Tiriana looks a little more convinced by that. "Well, yeah. But I hit 'em," she points out after a moment. "Don't think she liked that part." But still, she's pleased enough with the reassurance to nod, to smirk again. "Is there... something to see?" She does still sound a little skeptical about that, peering down the hall and back over her shoulder before glancing back at him.

"Just the environment of my childhood," R'uen says with a lazy shrug, not that his own steps have slowed any. "Nah, you don't care about that," he decides, giving her hand a squeeze. "Back home, then? We'll get you out of here so you can have yourself a proper rant?"

Tiriana gives the hall one last look, then nods. "Fine. And I'm not going to rant--I'm just going to get even," she adds, with a wrinkle of her nose. While she sounds quite sure of that, she still doesn't sound very angry or upset--which makes her brows furrow in some little display of confusion. Shaking her head, she agrees, "Yeah, let's go home."

"You're going to get even?" R'uen repeat. "Even with me? For bringing you to visit with my family, feeding you a nice big meal... It was good, wasn't it? I miss eating like that. Miss a lot of things." When they get outside the sun has set, casting the courtyard in darkness, though even still Zaiventh's brilliant hide has a sort of electric glow. "At least we got some dessert, yeah?"

"To meet your parents, yeah," Tiriana retorts, more firmly. "And just remember, /my/ family's meaner." Her smirk is nothing short of triumphant over that, though it fades as they exit to Zaiventh; there's a rare quieter tilt to her mouth then. She hoists the bag in agreement to his latter words, but then asks, "Like what?" to the previous ones.

That she asks has a brow lifting, but R'uen just smiles and shrugs. "You know, the life I used to have. Are you cold?" Winter's air sharp about them. "I've got a blanket in Zaiventh's pack. Climb on up."

Dismissed so, Tiriana frowns briefly, and gives a haughty little sniff as she turns to climb up Zaiventh's side and settle aboard again. "I'm fine," she answers, head shaking again. "Can make it home, anyway."

R'uen must notice that little frown or the sniff or something. As he settles in behind her, arm wrapped as usual and holding her close against his chest, he ducks his head to the side to catch her profile. "You all right?"

Tiriana's eyes shift sideways so she can glance at R'uen, and she nods, inflecting her voice with just a touch of exasperation. It's a note that reaches no further than voice, at least, as she leans back against him. "I'm fine. Of course," she tells him. "I just said that, didn't I?"