[Log] Hired Gun, Not a Thief
Who: Cullen, Jiran, Lassen, Linnea, Savaughna
When: Day 1, Month 6, Turn 4, 11th Interval
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
What: Linnea loses a glove, and Lassen helpfully tries to steal it back from Cullen. Accusations and general ineptitude ensue.
Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
The impressive living cavern is seemingly as large as the bowl that cradles the hatching sands. Rivers of polished wood tables and benches arrow towards a raised platform crowned with a compact version of their sturdy design. Neatly crafted pegs, some fancifully carved, are tapped into holes in the wall and support clothing dangling like lazy sleepers. Woven baskets, both useful and decorative, hang along another wall. Piles of summer fruit give off a shimmer of color and a waft of sweet aromas from their cradling bowls. Hanging sheaves of herbs and spices rustle in the breeze, adding their fragrance as well. Banners worked with the designs of Holds and Halls beholden to the weyr cascade down the walls high above, interspersed with several brilliantly colored tapestries. Small groups gather here and there in the cavern, relaxing over a snack of freshly baked goodies as they cheerfully gossip.
Contents:
Linnea
Cullen
Jemah
Large Ale Cask
Tray of Bubblies
Firelizard Perch
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Bowl Lower Caverns
Linnea seems to have missed the lunch crush, or at least the way she's making tracks toward the chow might suggest it. Starving hands strip flight gloves impatiently, the telltale shake in her fingers evidence of a long, food-free morning, or perhaps of harrowing drills. One slips from her grasp as she passes the table where Cullen sits, its impatient throw carrying it toward his meal plate. "Oh shells," she whines, turning about to see where her errant glove has landed.
Stumbling inside, Lassen grins goofily and veers away from the group of boys he entered with. The entire group is rather dirty from the chores of the day, and most of them seem to be headed toward the lower caverns and the bathing cavern. Lassen, though, has other priorities. His path takes him to the serving tables, where he stares happily at the food for a long moment before beginning to load down a plate.
On Cullen's sandwich, that's where; but he's so engrossed in the hides in front of him, all of which seem to contain sketches of clothing, that he doesn't notice the extra glove until he reaches his hand out absently to find his sandwich, interested in another bite. His hand falls on the glove though, and it's almost to his mouth before his eyes stray toward it and notice what it really is. His brows quirk upward, depositing the glove to the side and reaching for his real sandwich.
Linnea watches in horrified fascination as the candidate brings the glove toward his mouth, though she can't do anything more than squeak feebly. The glove being set aside suggests its safety, and she debates a long moment between fetching it, and abandoning it. After being jostled by a passing gaggle of dirty boys, she decides to vanish into the group, joining Lassen in line. While she waits, she keeps glancing back at the glove, scheming for its subtle recapture. "Hey," she greets Lassen. "Want to earn a sixteenth of a mark?"
Lassen's plate is full, and so is his mouth: he's stuff a large bite of a roll in it while he meanders down the line. Brows arch as Linnea hails him, and he points one finger at himself--'who, me?'. Then, a quick nod, and he swallows so that he can actually reply. "Me? Yeah, sure, I guess. How?" he wonders, plainly curiously.
The extra glove is now settled with Cullen's pair, the latter which reek none-too-gently of firestone and seem well-used. After several sandwich bites, the rest of it is relinquished back to the plate as the candidate returns his attention to the sketches. A scratched out line here, added embellishment there--all possible changes to balance the ideas of the weaver who created the drawings, likely his mother. The gaggle of boys makes him look up for a moment, watch them pass, and return to his afternoon task.
Linnea nods up at the tall boy. "It's simple, see. My glove, I, uh, left it over there." She vaguely nods to the table where the other white-knotted boy is seated, "And I'd like it back. Only, I don't want him, that boy, to know how it got there or that it's mine." She winces, realizing her plot is sounding more suspicious and farfetched as she describes, and takes a moment to fill her plate, messily since she's distracted. "You get it, without making a fuss, and return it to me, I give you the sixteenth. Deal?"
Lassen peers at the glove, at Cullen, at Linnea. "Without a fuss?" he says skeptically. "Um. Well, okay. I guess I can try. Why can't you just go ask him about it?" Without waiting more than a moment for an answer, Lassen starts walking, heading for Cullen's table with his food. He sets his plate down directly across from the other candidate, and the offers a simple, "Hi."
Cullen looks up from the sketches, a bit distracted himself, and nods to his fellow candidate. "Afternoon," he responds easily with a grin for Lassen. "Busy day?" Cullen has a much fainter scent of firestone, softer than the gloves, and his hair is damp like he's had a recent bath. "I don't think we've met officially, I've just seen you around. 'm Cullen."
Linnea furtively chews at her lip, casting glances back and forth between the glove and the tall candidate. "Because. Well, it got there by accident." That, she hopes, is enough information. Time to ladle some gravy on to her plate, filling it with liquidy goodness over the delights of the day. She watches Lassen go, failing as spy training entirely, and offers him a little smile of encouragement as Cullen offers him a hallo.
Lassen gives Linnea a mildly confused look, then a shrug, before he focuses on Cullen. "I'm Lassen," he introduces himself. "Nice to meet you? Had... firestone today?" He sniffs the air, then wrinkles his nose, nodding as he catches the scent. "I was working in the stables myself. Yucky, but hey. I'll go get a bath later--lunch is more important." He grins, then peers surreptitiously at the glove on the table, then at Cullen again to see if the other boy noticed.
The mention of firestone causes Cullen to rub the thumb of his right hand along the palm of his left, before giving a confirming nod. "Had to sack again today. Got out of it for a few days because I cut my hand last time, but back at it now that I found some gloves in the storerooms." His hand reaches over to pat them, his pair and the extra. It's unlikely that he needs all three but, never one to look a gift runner in the mouth, he seems to have added it to his collection for now. "The wherry's good today," he says, gaze dropping briefly to study Lassen's full plate, then he reaches to grab his sandwich and polish it off with two more bites.
Linnea winces notably, muttering over her plate, "Humans don't eat firestone. Ugh, he's not only big, but I picked a not-very-bright one, too." Perhaps inattentiveness, or maybe karma causes her to drip some gravy sauce on herself, though she doesn't notice it as she scoots along the table a few feet to get a better view. "You can do it, stable boy. C'mon. That's a new glove." The stakes are high.
Lassen nods distractedly, nodding. "Those are some... some nice gloves," he says lamely. He watches them another moment, while Cullen's attention is drawn to the food. When Lassen thinks the other candidate isn't looking, he attempts to snatch Linnea's poor glove, pulling it down into his lap out of sight. Then, guiltily, he glances back up at Cullen, and tries to look innocent and interested in his food. Subtle? Well, maybe not.
Cullen's not so distracted that he doesn't notice the movement. "Hey!" He protests, loud enough that it probably gathers attention from some of the others in the living caverns, especially given that it's pretty quiet this afternoon. "What're doing? There are gloves in the stores if you need some!" If the item were not hidden under the table, the olive-skinned candidate might reach out to try to take it back. As it is, it wasn't his in the first place, so he's less likely to care. "Maybe you're the one who's been stealing stuff." The accusation is made equally loudly, gaze narrowing in Lassen's direction. "I oughta warn Maja about you."
Linnea just about squeaks aloud as the glove is championed, her hands raising to applaud quietly his success, that is, until Cullen notices. Sadly, she forgets she's holding the plate, and her motion only succeeds in upending it across the serving table with a splash as it slips out of her hands. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the clatter knocks over a pitcher of water, which douses Li firmly down the front, rinsing off the gravy but leaving the startled rider unable to jump to Lassen's defense. Alas.
Whoops. Lassen's innocent expression becomes more forced, his eyes wide. "What? What happened? What glove?" he says, like an idiot. "You've got all your gloves. I don't have a glove. Why would I need one of your gloves?" He holds up both hands, palms out, to prove this. By now, he's... well, he's sitting on the glove. Only the fingers are visible, hanging off the back of his chair. Lassen shoots a 'save me!' look over at Linnea, then frowns at her. One can almost hear the gears of his mind turning: she gets to goof off with gravy while he risks his neck for a glove?
The noise of the knocked over plate and pitcher diverts Cullen's attention to the greenrider, bewildered by the concotion of gravy and water sliding down her front. A nearby bluerider offers her a rag that's mostly clean, and the candidate calls out a 'You okay?' to her, not waiting for an answer as he turns back to Lassen, across from him. "The other glove that was here," the young man replies pointedly, slapping his hand atop the pair of gloves. "There were three of them. Two that I brought with me and one that, uh, ended up here near me. Don't make me report you as the person that has been pilfering through everyone's stuff." The tone of his voice, squint of his eyes, and tension along his jaw suggests that he's serious about the matter. "Hey, you seen L'ian?" He asks of another candidate walking by, further clarifying his willingness to rat Lassen out.
Linnea rights the pitcher of water, uses her hand to push the damp food bits and pools of liquid off the back of the table where they splat on the floor nearest the wall, and tosses a few cloths over the mess to make it slip-proof. Unfortunately, this leaves Lassen to fend for himself, especially since her next focus is to blot the brown spots out of her clothes using the bluerider's offered rag. "I'm fine, fine," she reassures. A 'bright' idea strikes, and she ohs, thinking of a way to help. "I've just lost my glove, see, and I was trying to figure out if it had been stolen." Yeah, that's sure to help.
"I didn't take it," Lassen protests once more. Then, eyeing Linnea again, he latches onto another idea. "I, um--maybe it fell somewhere. I'll go look for it!" He jumps to his feet, clutching the glove behind his back as he does so. He starts edging away from the table, still peering over his shoulder at Linnea every few seconds. "Psst!" he tries to get her attention.
The greenrider's comment cause Cullen to latch onto the idea of Lassen-as-thief even more. Perhaps he's been spending too much time with the guard-from-Keogh-turned-candidate and her conspiracy theories, but he stands up and points an accusing finger at the tall, bulky candidate backing away from him. "I bet HE stole it. He just stole a glove from me." Cullen reaches over and holds up the two gloves still near him, and it's obvious that the two are not from the same pair. One is well-worn and fairly large, the other newer and a little smaller. "Unless my left hand is half the size of my right hand, anyway." The dry tone injects a little humor into the incident, but he seems less than amused at the whole situation.
Linnea scoots away from the helpful bluerider, leaving the kindly soul behind with the bulk of the mess. Still blotting at her shirtfront, she puts on first a placating face, then a distressed expression as Lassen is named culprit. "Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear." Helpful contributions Li makes as she wrings first her blouse, then her hands. "Maybe it just got lost? Let's look around on the floor, shall we?" The small glove in Cullen's hand makes her heart sink, and she sighs resolutely.
"Um. Um. Maybe it is!" Lassen tells Cullen frantically. He cranes his head around to see the glove he holds, and he frowns at it: it matches the larger of Cullen's set. "Huh. You're... sure they're not different sizes?" he asks Cullen again, turning back around. He peers at Linnea, then winces. "I guess I don't get that sixteenth of a mark now?" he surmises. "Um. Um. How about... a trade? Trade you this glove for that one?" With a reluctant sigh, he offers Cullen back his glove, while gesturing to Linnea's lost one.
The usually mild candidate reaches across the table to snatch the glove out of Lassen's hand. He tucks the pair of well-worn, large gloves into the pockets of his pants in order to protect them from further theft. This leave Linnea's smaller, newer glove, which Cullen holds up as he continues to look accusingly at Lassen. "Is this your glove?" He asks of Linnea, though his attention is still focused on Lassen. He begins to string together a story, connecting Lassen's arrival in the living caverns with the appearance of the glove on his plate. "I bet he stole it earlier, then tried to get rid of it by throwing it over here so no one would know that he stole it." It was Lassen, with the glove, in the living caverns!
Savaughna walks in from the tunnel to the bowl.
Savaughna has arrived.
"Actually," Lassen defends himself, "I was trying to steal that one in the first place." Pause. Realizing, belatedly, how that sounds, he hastily amends himself. "She told me to, though. I think you stole it from her in the first place!"
Linnea busies herself looking on the floor, ducking down so she's almost kneeling on it. "What, uh, are you talking to me?" Li looks like she's never seen Lassen in her life, or at least, she tries to look that way, though her worried expression might give her away. "No, noo, I don't pay theives, nooo, wouldn't do that. Stealing is wrong. But finding is good! See, who can find my other glove." A gasp, and she stands upright, aghast. "I think that -is- my glove." A finger points at Cullen this time. "Unless you're just saying that to, ah, protect yourself. Since you're the one holding it. Right! What he said."
"I didn't steal anything," Cullen says patiently. He's still holding up the small glove as the story continues. "I was sitting here eating a snack and looking at some sketches." The plate and hides are still on the table in front of him, corroborating his story. "All of a sudden there was a glove on my plate, but I have no idea where it came from. Except," his eyes narrow again as his gaze travels between Lassen, still standing, and Linnea, kneeling on the floor. "it arrived about the same time you two did. If this is her glove, why would she want you to steal it from me?" His brows knit together, the story line that was once so clear to him become entangled again.
"I dunno," Lassen replies, just as confused as Cullen. "But she offered to pay me. I was /hired/. Say, um. Why /did/ you want me to steal it?" This last is directed at Linnea, as Lassen gives her a curious look.
"Who stole what now?" Savaughna questions breezily, as she strolls past Linnea-kneeling-on-the-floor, and then turning to take in Lassen and Cullen as well. And a curious look to Lassen, "You were hired for -what-?" Confusing, just a bit.
Linnea frowns deeply, embedding lines she's set into motion over turns into her dour and becoming moreso all the time jawline. "This really isn't what it looks like. I mean, he, that boy," a point at Cullen, even though it is rude to point. "Ended up with my glove. How it got there is a mystery, but there it is. It would all be such a nice day if we could make up and be friends and I'll take the glove back and we'll all have some bubbly. Okay?" She nods repeatedly, as though that would encourage the others to agree peaceably.
What with all the other minor items that've been stolen, Cullen is a little suspicious, even of the greenrider who helped to search him. "Do you have the matching glove?" He asks, wanting proof before he's willing to relinquish it. He seems to be calming some, willing himself to breath a little more slowly and slide back into his seat. The glove is still held in his hand, but he uses his other to straighten the hides on the table, as if it might make him feel better to return some order to his environment. "Sorry, man," he says to Lassen, once it's clear that the candidate isn't at fault for stealing, so much as being led astry by the rider.
Lassen explains to Savaughna in his patient, talking-to-the-idiots voice. "To steal her glove back from him." Pause. "Bubblies?" Lassen immediately brightens. "Sure, kay." Even though his meal is mostly untouched, Lassen is heading for a tray of fresh bubblies, gesturing for the others to join him. He even offers Cullen a grin. "Eh, no worries. Sorry about all that. Um. You, er, weren't s'posed to see me, you know, take it." A shrug ensues, and he glances to Linnea. "You never did say why," he points out thoughtfully after a moment.
"Your glove was stolen," Savaughna tries to make sense of it all, her gaze finding Linnea for the moment, "And hired him," a little flick of her fingers toward Lassen, "To steal it back? Okay then." Shaking her head, she finds a seat, plops down in it. Cullen's given a curious look, her slim brows arching upward, "Why would she want a glove that didn't belong to her? You can't wear two gloves that don't match." Even though she herself frequently does just so. "It would look weird." Nod.
"I..." trails the rider, not exactly wanting to be drawn fully into this, though it's a little late for that. "I do." The other glove is drawn from a trouser pocket, along with a helping of gravy and a slushy bit of watery tubers. "I was just walking, and suddenly, it was there." Note that she still doesn't quite admit to being at fault, nor does she blame poor Cullen, but she sure looks embarrassed. Standing, she approaches, hoping to get her glove at last, somewhat cheered that Lassen doesn't seem to be clinging to grudge. "I think they're fresh? The bubblies. Are there blue ones, or just red?"
A snort is Cullen's only response to Sava's comments, as he tosses the glove to the table, almost bitterly, though he attempts to hide some of his annoyance at having been drawn into the whole mess. "Maybe next time you could just ask for it yourself. Ma'am." The candidate doesn't seem too concerned with having criticized a superior, rather wanting to do what's right in the end.
All thoughts of gloves and thievery have escaped Lassen's mind as he snatches up his first bubbly and takes a big bite. Through that bite, he mumbles an answer to Linnea, some strange combination of sounds that might be, 'Blue. And red. Both.' Then, mildly, he surveys Cullen and Savaughna, busily eating rather than getting back in that discussion.
"Bubblies are far overrated," Savaughna comments idly, watching from her chair, lazily now that the glove has been returned to it's rightful owner. Hopefully. "Sweetrolls are far more pleasurable to eat. And easier to hide in your pockets too." Indeed, one is pulled out of a pocket, rather squished up, but it's still a sweetroll and so it's ripped into pieces and popped into her mouth. "Can I ask," she says then, glancing at Linnea again, "Why you were missing a glove in the first place?"
Li's lip curls upward into a sneer as Cullen tosses her glove. "You don't have to throw it. It's new. You could be civilized and hand it back." Scowling, she reaches over the table to reclaim her glove, and, spurred onward by Cullen's manner and Sava's question, just isn't able to resist adding, "-You- must've taken it when I walked by, and you're just angry that I tried to get help from someone bigger than me to get it back rather than just letting you get away with it." Thoughts of the bubbly, sadly, have been supplanted, and the sweetroll's not enough to redirect them.
Lassen gives Savaughna an 'are you crazy?' look. "What? What're you talking about, woman? Bubblies are the greatest thing known to man!" he announces, stuffing the remainder of his bubbly in his mouth. Then: "I was right? I was right!" Lassen gloats happily, as Linnea reiterates his theory of earlier.
"Mmm-hmm," Cullen comments, nodding idly along with Linnea's explanation as if he agrees with every point. "While I was looking down at my sketches and barely noticed your arrival, I reached all the way across the table," here he stretches his arm across by way of demonstration, "and took your glove that won't fit me, in order to have three gloves for myself." He pauses to let the absurdity of the possibility settle in before adding, "Or maybe you dropped it, and were too embarrassed to say anything." While he may be willing to continue n with the he-said-she-said blame game, instead he shrug and says no more about the matter.
Savaughna snorts at Lassen, "You just don't have a palette as advanced as mine," and another piece of sweetroll goes into her mouth. But the conversation-accusation between Cullen and Linnea proves to be far more entertaining than talk of sweets, and the young woman leans forward, elbow propped upon the table, to soak it all up. She can't help but offer to Linnea, "Perhaps he stole it to give to a lady-friend. You know how boys are." And then she bats her lashes innocently toward Cullen.
Linnea shrugs, her cheeks still brightly colored, her hands going to her damp front. "And then, to divert suspicion, I poured my lunch all over myself?" She allows the unliklihood of this to also settle, grabbing the glove, then turning her back on Cullen and marching away. "Probably did, meant to get them both but missed one. Probably someone he was," she sniffs the air, agreeing with Savaughna while approaching Lassen, "working firestone with this morning, complaining of hurt hands." Quietly, she murmurs to the bulky lad, "Sorry about that. Maybe some of the blue pie?" To make the peace, she adds, louder, "Anyone else for some nice pie?"
"See, he admits it!" Lassen says excitedly, pointing at Cullen. In fact, he then proceeds to give the story his own embellishments. "I bet--I bet he stole it for you," he tells Savaughna. "I mean, after all, you /did/ show up just after the entire thing. Coincidence? I think not." He beams smugly at the trio, then cocks his head toward Linnea. "Huh? What? Oh, okay." He takes another bubbly, this one blue, and wolfs it much like the first.
The brown-eyed candidate, still seated settled at the table, foregoes the offer of pie with a shake of his head. But he does drag the situation out a little more, offering a wide-eyed glance to Sava. "But Elindath's rider is the only one I've been up to the cliffs with," Cullen remarks, almost demure. If she's going to twist the story to suit herself, he'll twist it in the other direction. He leans forward, voice lowering, "You know, where all the pairs go to.. spend time together." With that he gives a soft sigh then collects his sketches, stands, and drifts out toward the lower caverns.
Cullen strolls through the archway, into the lower caverns.
Cullen has left.
"What, no.." Savaughna's quick to shake her head at Lassen, very emphatically. "I didn't know anything about the glove til I walked in here." She protests. And then, well, she just snorts at Cullen's back as he retreats - escapes? - exits, and then she turns toward Linnea. "You've been up to the cliffs with -him-?" Arch-browed, the candidate shakes her head in disbelief.
Linnea stares at Lassen in awe as he starts in on the blue bubbly, and she can't help but laugh. "I meant, would you mind cutting a piece of the bubbly for me. The blue kind is my favorite." This not-intentionally flirtatious statement becomes much more suspicious in light of Cullen's parting arrows, and her mouth drops open. "How dare you tell other people that we--!" Realizing that sounds like an admission, she cuts it off midsentence, eyes widening. "Yes, but only once!" No, that wasn't right either. Woe.
Lassen peers curiously over at Cullen. "They do? That's what they do up there? Shards. I didn't know that. Huh." He marvels at this bit of information, mulling it over while he licks his fingers clean, save for slight blue staining. He eyes Linnea curiously for a moment, then the bubblings. "Oh. Whoops. Sorry," he apologizes. He reaches for another blue bubbly, offering it to the rider. "Here you go. So. Only once, huh? But, y'know what they say." He waggles his brows and snickers, not explaining this.
This keeps getting better and better. Savaughna grins at Linnea, "Just the once, huh. So it's true." Pause, then, "Maybe he stole your glove as a love trinket. You know, to always remember you by. Lots of people do that, you know. And I definatly wouldn't put it past him." Blue eyes slant toward Lassen then, and she wonders, innocently, "What -do- they say?"
Jiran slips into the living cavern far more subtly than he usually does, slipping in behind a couple of adults and then veering off to move towards the serving tables. He pauses to look around, and then appears to relax as he moves up to the table, pouring a cup of juice. Then, seeing the candidates and rider, he moves over that way, giving a slight wave but waits until they've noticed him before audibly greeting.
The greenrider has already added lunch, gravy, and water to the mess on her front, why not add some blue bubbly pie as well? Drowning her misery in pie sounds great, and she eyes it forlornly for a long moment before dipping several fingers right into its center, eating the gooey substance right off. "Thanks. It's delicious." Linnea's tone somewhat flat, she sighs, unable to not want to know what they say, and she watches Lassen intently, though Sava's explanation makes her say, "Really?" as though maybe she didn't remember the events surrounding the glove's absence properly after all. "A love trinket." To Jiran, she holds out the maimed pie. "Want some bubbly?"
"Well, um," falters Lassen at Savaughna's question. "/You/ know. They say... well, once is enough." He whispers the latter words, but still too loudly to disguise them from anyone nearby. "So. It's a... love trinket. Shards. That's weird. I wouldn't never steal no girl's glove after I... Well. Um. Anyway. These bubblies are good, huh?"
Savaughna wiggles her fingers at Jiran, offering a cheery, "Hey there!" since she thinks she recognises him. A nod then, to Lassen and Linnea, "Well that settles it then. He stole it as a love trinket." Well it's settled for -her- at least, and so she moves right along. "Once is enough for what?" is enquired innocently enough, though anyone who knows Savaughna -knows- she plays the innocent perfectly. "If not a glove then, what would you take? I'm curious."
Jiran smiles and says quickly, waving a little again, "Hey." He brightens a little more at the offer of pie, and nods quickly, "Please?" The fact that fingers had been dipped into it doesn't seem to bother him. He steps forward a little more, up to the table now, but Savaughna's comments catch his attention. "Who stole what?" He sounds very curious.
Linnea leans in closer to Lassen, disbelieving. "Oh dear." Things have just taken a turn for the worse, in her estimation. "Let's just keep this between ourselves, shall we?" Jemah's spot over in near the hearth is eyed for a moment, the girl clearly anxious. "Yep, good bubbly. Yum." Taking refuge in the pie, her fingers go dip once more, and she licks the filling away. "Maybe," she murmurs through a mouth-full, "something more romantic." Setting the pie down, she uses a serving knife to cut a piece out. "That about big enough?" she wonders of Jiran, her usual fastidious nature abandoned for the moment.
Lassen hesitates, then shrugs. "I dunno. Ask 'them'. I mean, that's just what they always say, you know? I dunno what they really mean," he notes. "You'd have to ask them." Again, he shrugs, and licks one finger experimentally. It's still blue, after all, but apparently it doesn't taste like the pie's filling. Lassen looks disappointed. "So you really...?" he trails off, eyes widening slightly as he eyes Linnea.
Well if -they're- not going to cough up an answer, Savaughna will. "Cullen stole Linnea's glove to keep as a love-gift to always remember her by," She says simply, and looks to one of the others to confirm her story. "But anyway, it all got sorted out as far as I'm aware, so it's really not worth getting into again." A pause, and she wonders of the younger boy, "Did you tell anyone about what I told you about that animal?" 'that animal' is said with a significant wiggling of her eyebrows, as if to hint at something else.
Jiran nods quickly to Linnea, smiling again as he looks to the piece, "Yes, thank you, it's great." He looks back up to Savaughna, "Oh." Then, to the latter question, he shakes his head emphatically. "I don't tell secrets, especially ones like that." Then, after a moment, he adds, "Jemah might've, if she'd heard you that day."
Linnea shakes her head. "I'm not going to tell you, so don't even ask." She dons a face-saving expression, content enough to let this rumor spread over the possibility that she confused the theft of her glove and made a fool of herself. "Right! All sorted out." Delighted at Sava's summary, she transfers the accepted piece of pie to a plate, then offers it to Jiran. Predictably, this is accompanied by, "What animal?"
Lassen shakes his head sadly, then spots someone across the cavern. He waves, then gives the trio around him a grin. "Hey, there's my friend. I gotta go. See y'all later. And hey, if you need anything else, um, returned, yeah, I'll help." The last is for Linnea, whom he gives a grin before he heads over to rendezvous with the other young man.
Savaughna sighs loudly. "Well when I said 'don't tell anybody' I was really hoping you'd tell -everybody- you know. I'm very disappointed." A roll of her eyes, and then she grins at Linnea. "An animal named Maja," that's offered innocently enough, and her lips part in a wide smile before she snaps her mouth shut again, and simply waves at Lassen's retreating form.
Jiran smiles to Linnea again and takes the plate eagerly, "Thanks!" Before he can start eating, though, he hears Savaughna's comment, which causes a look of confusion. "If that's what you wanted, why didn't you say so? I didn't think you'd want it told, 'cause I thought candidates weren't supposed to be kissing." That said, he now quickly starts to eat.
Linnea waves at Lassen's departure, glad of his lack of animosity considering the day's adventure. "There are animals in the Weyr?" Linnea looks somewhat alarmed, glazing for a moment. "Elindath hasn't seen anything unusual. Are they causing harm? Or is it a pet? Or--oh." Despite the beginnings of rumor about herself and the kitchen-skilled other candidate, talk of this makes her brows raise. "Should I be hearing this? L'ian was my wingleader once as Weyrlings, and I'm obligated to report...things."