The Bronzerider's Advice
Man is a knot into which relationships are tied. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
IC Date: Day 17, month 7, turn 21 of Interval 10.
OOC Date: December 21, 2009
Who: Gabrion, W'chek
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
W'chek shows up to give Gabrion some advice about his relationship with his new girlfriend.
Gabrion is sitting at a small table by himself, near the caverns entrance, polishing off the last remains of a large, late dinner. He hasn't bothered to change out of the healer's uniform he wears when working in the infirmary.
Sometimes being a dragonrider does mean an odd schedule--some tasks are a 'you get done when you get done' sort of thing, leaving a few riders always straggling in at odd hours to catch up on missed meals. W'chek would probably normally head for the night hearth around now, but one can only take so much of the stew in there. Sometimes you just want a couple of meat rolls. But before he can get to the food, just coming in from outside, there's a familiar and not entirely friendly face, and for some reason the bronzerider makes the detour to sit down across from Gabrion, hands folded. "Hey, there," all false cheer.
Gabrion looks up, and the beginning of a smile dies on his face. He eyes W'chek suspiciously. "Hi," he says, opting for caution and at least minimal courtesy. "What's up?"
That much courtesy seems to throw W'chek off a bit, leaving him chewing on his lower lip for a moment before he figures out what he's going to say. And in the end, it starts off with a platitude: "Not too much. How've things been going for you?" Like he cares even that much. Slightly more genuine, "Things going okay in the infirmary?"
"Fiiiine," Gabe says slowly, even more confused as to why W'chek is sitting here talking to him. "Yeah. Uh, yeah, they're going okay. Got a stupid paper to write about epidemics. Rather be counting bandages or whatever."
Distracted nods are all the young healer gets in response. W'chek is plainly not particularly interested in the answers to his own questions. At one point he's clearly looking over towards the food like he'd rather be there than at this particular table, but nothing makes clear right away why he isn't actually there. "Yeah. Good for you." Something in there had to have been good, right? Finally something closer to a real question: "Heard something about you seeing some girl, how's that going?"
So that's what this is about. ...not that that really answers the question of exactly what this is about. Gabe nods his head in answer. "Uh huh," he says, and finishes chewing his mouthful of food. "Her name's Jess."
"Jess," W'chek repeats, sits back in his seat to mull over that name, full as it is of mystic import. Or else he's just figuring out what to say next. "Nice girl? Didn't think you were--like that." Struggling for a delicate way of putting it, he drums his fingers on the table. "You know, with girls." Which might be enough, except he's just not that good with 'delicate'. "Had you figured for pretty queer." You would think in his situation that he might have stopped saying that with such scorn, but no.
"She's nice," Gabe agrees. If he were crude - like most normal, straight fifteen turn old boys - he would probably point out that she has a nice rack. He does not. Instead, he regards W'chek with a long look. "I guess people are full of surprises, aren't they?" he says in a tone that's meant to communicate that he's unimpressed.
More finger-drumming, but W'chek's reply isn't affronted, that in itself nearly a miracle given his usual mode of conversation. "Nice, good. Full of surprises, yeah. Sure." Pause, some uncomfortable shifting in his chair. "Some surprises," finally with a tinge of actual confidence, "are better'n others." There, that was more useful. Sort of. "Used to see a girl, once, myself. You know." Everybody knows that one, don't they?
"Yeah," Gabe says drily. "I know." A pause. "What, are you asking for advice about it or something?"
The rider takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly through pursed lips. "No." Calmly. Or almost calmly, anyway.
"They don't change things, girls. The nice ones or... the ones who aren't so much. Doesn't really matter which. Doesn't change anything." W'chek pauses, finally closes his hand to keep his fingertips off the tabletop. "If she's one of the nice ones, you ready to do right by her?"
Oh. So that's what this is. Gabe gives W'chek a thoughtful look. "Well, I'm not going to marry her, if that's what you mean," he says after a long pause. "That's for holders." He flicks his fingers dismissively. Gay-ly. "I don't know about changing things. I mean - you mean they don't make you not gay, right? Yeah. I know that. That's not really..." He pauses again - why exactly is he telling W'chek his business? He shrugs. "She's been chasing after me since Turnover. I figured, what the heck. She's nice. We have a good time."
"It's the right thing to do," W'chek maintains, though not angrily. He doesn't exactly do gentle well, but he can definitely do patronizing. As though Gabrion is just a child who clearly doesn't know these things. Or as though he's sure it's only an academic proposition anyway. "More to life than a good time, at any rate. Bit more. If you're not going to do right, 'least let her know that." Which seems to mean a little more than marriage. "They deserve better, the nice ones." Then he's standing again, like this is all he came to say.
Gabrion looks faintly guilty, under a heavy layer of defensive. "She's been chasing /me/," he emphasizes. "But yeah. Thanks." He shrugs again, and applies his fork to his food.
A faint smile. "As it may be. Worse things out there than marriage, if you're inclined that direction. Just food for thought. And speaking of food..." W'chek gestures in the direction of just that. "Best take care of that myself." Then he's off, evidently pleased with his intervention, somehow, despite the utter lack of any kind of conclusive direction to it. If this was the kind of advice he'd gotten, it would be no wonder things turned out as they did.
Gabrion just shakes his head and rolls his eyes, and turns his full attention back to his meal.
IC Date: Day 17, month 7, turn 21 of Interval 10.
OOC Date: December 21, 2009
Who: Gabrion, W'chek
Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
W'chek shows up to give Gabrion some advice about his relationship with his new girlfriend.
Gabrion is sitting at a small table by himself, near the caverns entrance, polishing off the last remains of a large, late dinner. He hasn't bothered to change out of the healer's uniform he wears when working in the infirmary.
Sometimes being a dragonrider does mean an odd schedule--some tasks are a 'you get done when you get done' sort of thing, leaving a few riders always straggling in at odd hours to catch up on missed meals. W'chek would probably normally head for the night hearth around now, but one can only take so much of the stew in there. Sometimes you just want a couple of meat rolls. But before he can get to the food, just coming in from outside, there's a familiar and not entirely friendly face, and for some reason the bronzerider makes the detour to sit down across from Gabrion, hands folded. "Hey, there," all false cheer.
Gabrion looks up, and the beginning of a smile dies on his face. He eyes W'chek suspiciously. "Hi," he says, opting for caution and at least minimal courtesy. "What's up?"
That much courtesy seems to throw W'chek off a bit, leaving him chewing on his lower lip for a moment before he figures out what he's going to say. And in the end, it starts off with a platitude: "Not too much. How've things been going for you?" Like he cares even that much. Slightly more genuine, "Things going okay in the infirmary?"
"Fiiiine," Gabe says slowly, even more confused as to why W'chek is sitting here talking to him. "Yeah. Uh, yeah, they're going okay. Got a stupid paper to write about epidemics. Rather be counting bandages or whatever."
Distracted nods are all the young healer gets in response. W'chek is plainly not particularly interested in the answers to his own questions. At one point he's clearly looking over towards the food like he'd rather be there than at this particular table, but nothing makes clear right away why he isn't actually there. "Yeah. Good for you." Something in there had to have been good, right? Finally something closer to a real question: "Heard something about you seeing some girl, how's that going?"
So that's what this is about. ...not that that really answers the question of exactly what this is about. Gabe nods his head in answer. "Uh huh," he says, and finishes chewing his mouthful of food. "Her name's Jess."
"Jess," W'chek repeats, sits back in his seat to mull over that name, full as it is of mystic import. Or else he's just figuring out what to say next. "Nice girl? Didn't think you were--like that." Struggling for a delicate way of putting it, he drums his fingers on the table. "You know, with girls." Which might be enough, except he's just not that good with 'delicate'. "Had you figured for pretty queer." You would think in his situation that he might have stopped saying that with such scorn, but no.
"She's nice," Gabe agrees. If he were crude - like most normal, straight fifteen turn old boys - he would probably point out that she has a nice rack. He does not. Instead, he regards W'chek with a long look. "I guess people are full of surprises, aren't they?" he says in a tone that's meant to communicate that he's unimpressed.
More finger-drumming, but W'chek's reply isn't affronted, that in itself nearly a miracle given his usual mode of conversation. "Nice, good. Full of surprises, yeah. Sure." Pause, some uncomfortable shifting in his chair. "Some surprises," finally with a tinge of actual confidence, "are better'n others." There, that was more useful. Sort of. "Used to see a girl, once, myself. You know." Everybody knows that one, don't they?
"Yeah," Gabe says drily. "I know." A pause. "What, are you asking for advice about it or something?"
The rider takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly through pursed lips. "No." Calmly. Or almost calmly, anyway.
"They don't change things, girls. The nice ones or... the ones who aren't so much. Doesn't really matter which. Doesn't change anything." W'chek pauses, finally closes his hand to keep his fingertips off the tabletop. "If she's one of the nice ones, you ready to do right by her?"
Oh. So that's what this is. Gabe gives W'chek a thoughtful look. "Well, I'm not going to marry her, if that's what you mean," he says after a long pause. "That's for holders." He flicks his fingers dismissively. Gay-ly. "I don't know about changing things. I mean - you mean they don't make you not gay, right? Yeah. I know that. That's not really..." He pauses again - why exactly is he telling W'chek his business? He shrugs. "She's been chasing after me since Turnover. I figured, what the heck. She's nice. We have a good time."
"It's the right thing to do," W'chek maintains, though not angrily. He doesn't exactly do gentle well, but he can definitely do patronizing. As though Gabrion is just a child who clearly doesn't know these things. Or as though he's sure it's only an academic proposition anyway. "More to life than a good time, at any rate. Bit more. If you're not going to do right, 'least let her know that." Which seems to mean a little more than marriage. "They deserve better, the nice ones." Then he's standing again, like this is all he came to say.
Gabrion looks faintly guilty, under a heavy layer of defensive. "She's been chasing /me/," he emphasizes. "But yeah. Thanks." He shrugs again, and applies his fork to his food.
A faint smile. "As it may be. Worse things out there than marriage, if you're inclined that direction. Just food for thought. And speaking of food..." W'chek gestures in the direction of just that. "Best take care of that myself." Then he's off, evidently pleased with his intervention, somehow, despite the utter lack of any kind of conclusive direction to it. If this was the kind of advice he'd gotten, it would be no wonder things turned out as they did.
Gabrion just shakes his head and rolls his eyes, and turns his full attention back to his meal.