Log: Chain Mail
Who: Nenita, P'draig
When: It is a spring night, 21:52 of day 18, month 4, turn 20 of Interval 10.
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Nenny chat at the 'bar. There's some pep talk involved and a little low-level flirting.
Evening, the Sandbar, people drinking, other people eating. Some eating AND drinking. Paddy is doing neither because he's cooking, go figure, though he's leaning on the bar just at the moment, cooling off a little and fanning his face with a towel while two people at the bar not far away enjoy the fruits of his labors.
Well, it's pretty much the very end of candidacy. And it's taken up until now for Nenita to bond with some of the other inmates. She's seated at one of the tables, drink in hand and chatting loudly with a group of girls, seemingly a little younger than herself. There's some loud laughter all of a sudden and she smacks her down on the table right in the middle of it, giggling like a fiend. The older candidate takes a breath and slides out of her seat, heading towards the bar, presumably to maybe order some food.
That laughter brings P'draig's gaze over and he grins lopsidedly for the cheer over yonder. Nenita's approach changes that grin to a full on one, expression warm to welcome the candidate cook. "Hey there, Nenny," he says fondly and stops flapping that towel around. "Having a good time? Looks like you've made some good friends," he adds with a tilt of his head to the side to take a further peek at that cluster of girls. "Girls' night out?"
"Wouldn't exactly call them good friends, but they're a nice sort." Nenita says with a smile over her shoulder. She slips onto of the stools, placing her drink onto the counter. "Rilka just turned eighteen. So we're having a little get together." There's a finger pointed in the general direction of a dark haired girl who's wearing an odd hat. "How's the kitchen? Got time to spit out some fries?"
"Nice can lead to good?" P'draig suggests with a chuckle and anothehr look towards the cluster. "Birthday girl hm? Want me to make her something more special than fries? Dance on the tables? Pay for a round?" he jokes a little and nods. "Sure, can do on fries. Most of the big orders are tapering off now, mostly snacks and appetizers."
"It can, maybe." Nenita glances back again, though her expression registers some doubt over that.. A gently raised 'brow indicates amusement with the next, "I think if you danced on the table it would be a violation of some rule. A no... dancing suggestively on tables for candidates rule. Whoever's in charge of us would come crashing down through the roof of the Sandbar. Life as we know it for you would be over."
"Don't think so with them?" P'draig queries further, leaning an elbow back down to the bar, attentive to the shifts in Nenny's tone and expression. Laughter follows and he shakes his head. "As long as I don't knock any of you up from dancing around on the table, I don't think it'd be a problem. Unless they're tightening the candidate rules up?"
"Probably not. They're a little on the young side of things." Nenita admits, not glancing back this time. Her drink is sipped from and she smiles around the straw, humor still plainly written there. "A line has to be drawn somewhere. Dancing on tables could lead to other things and that simply can't be had. They'd have to stop you before all the girls climbed up there and took advantage of you."
"Mm. Age differences. They can be pesky," P'draig says lightly and doesn't you know, delve into the ten turn age difference between /them/. Grinning, Paddy shakes his head. "I think I could fend off a few teenagers. After all I managed to duck Neraset, the most persistent cleavage dropper in the weyrling class last cycle," he notes with a wink. "Besides, the only one out of the bunch I'm interested in being taken advantage of by, is sitting right here." And there's another smile for her before his head tilts towards the kitchen. "Give me a second to go drop tubers in the fryer and I'll be right back. Can I get you anything else while I'm in there? Some fresh fruit came in today."
Pesky. "You know what I mean." Nenita says with a wave of her hand. After all those are teenagers and she's an adult, of course. "Cleavage dropper doesn't sound very attractive. Using the word drop around the subject of breasts just makes me think of..." Here she drops her hands way, way below where boobs should be, indicating some major sagging of the ol' funbags. For his compliment she smiles cheekily, wiggling fingers. "Less than a seven likely. Hopefully you can control yourself." Mention of the kitchens her leaning over to peek back there and she mmhmms and nods while sipping on the drink again.
"Mm. Teenagers," P'draig echoes the thought and laughs as he pushes away from the bar. "Her top, more. Or lack of. You know. Drop top. Hellooo cleavage. And a lot of heaving." A little eye roll and his fingers wiggle back at her, playful. "Even if it's more than a seven, I can control myself. Even if it's a /lot/ more than a seven. But, hold that thought." One finger upraised and he dips into the kitchen to set the fries to frying, returns with a bowl of what's effectively fruit salad, fresh cut, tropical mostly, too early for berries.
"Isn't there some sort of dress code in weyrlinghood? You'd think hiding your breasts would be part of that. It might give the men thoughts that the dragons can't process. You should have given her a blankie." Nenita makes like she's pulling a shawl over her shoulders, one that drapes across her chest. "You're the one that brought up table dancing!" She calls after him, still in mid-lean. When he returns with fruit, her fingers dart out to select a tasty piece.
"It was a summer clutch, like this one will be, for part of it," P'draig points out. "I'm not about to make weyrlings run around in the Istan heat in full leathers all day," the Weyrlingmaster says as he settles the bowl. "I told her to cut it out or get left back, basically and to start wearing her whole shirt instead of tying it up under her boobs all the time." He smiles when she takes that piece and he steals one himself, munches. "Shirt and shorts, comfortable shoes is what's usually called for. If the weyrlings are up in the air, leathers - light for Ista. And I do a lot of the actual exercise down at the beach, lots of swimming instead of lots of laps in summer."
"I didn't mean full riding leathers. I just meant shirts where your tits didn't pop out so easily." Nenita does more hand motions, even though her fingers are preoccupied with a fruit pieces. "Anyway. Did she listen when you finally told her to cover up? Or did she just wear shorter-shorts to compensate?" The prospect of running laps and swimming for lone stretches of time get a blank. An unreadable look. Her thoughts on lots of physical exercise are probably not so positive.
"It took a couple of tries, but it got through eventually that throwing herself at me, at T'mic, at the other weyrlings at any rider who looked cute to her, wasn't doing her any favors. That at her green helped hammer it home." That look earns a slow smile. "What, not looking forward to the workouts if you Impress?" he asks quietly and steals another piece of fruit.
"Maybe in other places it would have gotten her plenty of favors. But none of them would have been particularly helpful in her situation, I suppose." Nenita grins before popping another piece into her mouth. "Not really. I'm short, I can't run fast and I don't swim all that well. And I happen to be very attached to my little pads of fat." She even goes so far as to poke at them. Lovingly.
"No, it wasn't going to get her ahead in lessons and I don't screw 'my' weyrlings," P'draig says in tone that's conversational still, but a little bit lower in volume, "no matter how pretty and insistent." Paddy considers Nenny from head to toe for a moment. "Well, if you do impress, we'll have to work on all that. For now, I'll just enjoy your figure in all its glory at least as an object of admiration since I have to keep my hands to myself." And up goes his finger again. "Fries."
"I don't remember making the insinuation that you do sleep with your students." Nenita waves a piece of fruit around before dropping it into her drink. "Change all of what? Change me into some sort of... I don't know. Like those women you see in murals and tapestries. All beautiful and regal and fancy and perfect? I'm not sure that I want to be one of those girls, P'draig. I'm mostly okay with normal and average." When he goes, she leans into her drink to begin sipping.
"No, you didn't but she seemed to expect me to," P'draig explains. "Took a conversation and then some to get it through her head." His shoulders roll and he smiles as he starts to backtrack towards the kitchen. "No Nenny, if you impress it'll just be about getting into enough shape to be a good rider. You're perfect just the way you are." He's gone for a few minutes, returns with a seasoned basket of fries. "Would you like to do the honors, or should I?"
"I suppose so. I'm feeling very confident that I'm going to walk right off those sands though and back into my kitchens. Maybe we won't have to worry about the shape of my body and how much of a good rider I can become." Nenita seems quite pleased with that line of assumption and sips from her drink, playing with the fruit that's in there sucking up all the booze. "Oh, you go right ahead, I doubt they've noticed my absence. She'll faint at the sight of you." And indeed, the gaggle of girls doesn't seem to be missing Nenny nor do they seem ready to anytime soon.
"Maybe we will and maybe we won't," P'draig answers mildly, "regardless, I'll still like the shape of your body just fine," he says boldly, reaches over to gently tweak back a bit of her hair before he pushes away from the bar. "All right then, I'll go be charming, make the birthday girl's day and come right back. Don't go anywhere?" And with that he heads over to the gaggle and with a gallant gesture, delivers the fries, explains their provenance, pays the birthday girl a compliment, flashes his most charming smile then returns to Nenita with a little exaggerated swing in his hips to make the teenagers giggle all the more and maybe swoon. It's Nenny though that his eyes twinkle for, expression saying something akin to 'how 'bout them apples?'
Nenita smiles for the hair tweaking, dropping the subject of weyrlings and impression and all of that to turn around and watch him flirt with the girls. She grins lopsidely before turning back to the bar and finishing off whatever actually remains in the glass. "You seem to have been a big hit over there. Were you able to get any names or were they much, much too star struck?"
"It's all in the grin," P'draig notes with a wry chuckle and fishes a little scrap of paper out of his waistband, hands it over to Nenny. "Name and cot number. I'll use it for kindling back there," he tilts his head towards the kitchen and re-settles his elbows on the bar, steals some more of her fruit. "Sick of waiting, yet?"
Nenita laughs, "I think that's a man thing. Being able to grin and sweep a woman off her feet." When the paper comes out she simply laughs again, fishing the fruit out of the bottom of her glass. It's popped into her mouth while she says some name and cot number for him. "I'm anxious, very, very anxious and ready for it to be done already."
"Oh there's girls who do it too. You should see my sister in action sometime." P'draig winks at her again, then leans over to fish up a bottle from behind the bar to make himself a drink. "Yeah, I get that. It seems like it goes on forever and then you get to this crazy moment and everything either goes mostly back to the way it was, or changes forever."
"I'm sure that it's a site to behold." She tells him while devouring that alcohol soaked piece of fruit. It's finished up quickly and she licks her lips, pushing the glass away. "The crazy moment should be very, very soon. So hopefully everything is going to work out and be fine, fine, fine. It's not as if anything bad could happen while I'm out there. Afterall, you've all said I probably won't need a helmet or anything."
"She might come by sometime and maybe you'll get to see it, meet her." P'draig sets that one bottle down, adds a layer of something else atop his drink and lifts it Nenny's way. "Here's to you, Nenny and good fortune however it all turns out. A helmet no. And I sincerely hope it's a nice clean hatching. Either way, I'll be there and so will Mic and Javeri and D'pry, so if anything does happen, you know you've got some trusty souls out there keeping an eye out for you."
"Well, I don't know if I need a charming smile thrown my way but it would nice to meet this sister that you talk about so much." Nenita clinks her empty glass against his full one. If this was a more tragic scene, there would be some sick symbolism there. "I'm thinking about wearing chain mail under my robe anyway. No one is going to feel me up and check, is there?" She purses her lips before peering down at the bottom of the empty cup. "I got a card from the Layabout crew. But I still haven't seen Javeri since that night."
"Heh. No she's the type who makes friends easily," P'draig continues. "Very energetic." Fond again and then there's clinking glasses and thank goodness it's not tragic. "So we'll be serving roasted Nenny after the hatching for the feast?" he quips about the chain mail and sips from his glass. "Though you know, something sturdier than a flimsy white robe isn't a half bad idea. I don't know why pants shouldn't be allowed." He laughs about the feeling up and shakes his head. "Only me, if you let me. But I wouldn't really try. I know better than to get a candidate in trouble. The most you'll get out of me, is this." And he kisses his two fingers, brushes them lightly towards her cheek. "She's ... having a rough time of it," Paddy says quietly about Veri. "And then I go and tap her for one of my assistants."
"Roasted and pinched by the little pieces of metal, yes." Nenita tells him, once again placing her glass back down on the bar top. "I always wondered about that, all the times that I watched. The robes are so threadbare sometimes too, from being used over and over again." She grins as the two fingers come across her cheek and she catches them, depositing a little kiss before allowing them to escape again. "Yeah, so you've told me." She shrugs her shoulders, making a ring out of some wetness on the table. "You made her an assistant? I told her she should do that!"
"I like my Nenitas whole and unroasted," P'draig quips further and beams for that little kiss, then joins her in bar-top drawing, sunrays reaching for that circle. "Yep, I did. She and Chadamalith have a very particular, kind of bond and that kind of perspective is really useful in case there's more like that. Mic and Aath they're really close and had trouble separating, Veri and Chad were the opposite so they b alance each other for perspective." He smiles again, fondly at the candidate. "You did? Well, she said yes, so there you go."
"I'm surprised that she did. Did you have to trick her? When I suggested it she was very adament about not wanting to do something like that." Nenita hums along in agreement to everything he says. "That's what I was thinking too. The different perspective." As for whole and unroasted Nenitas she waves her hand dismissively. "I don't think we have much of a choice in the matter. The sands will cook me no matter what."
"Nope, though I did provide food and beer while I was asking and asked her and Mic at the same time," P'draig notes. "I think it might have made her feel better to know that it's me and Mic again. D'pry's brand new to it too so they'll both be learning this time around," the weyrlingmaster explains. "And yes, the only thing I'm really missing on this team is a girl on green, but there's enough around that when it comes time if the weyrling girls on green have questions it shouldn't be hard for them to find someone to talk to." That dismissive wave is reached for, Paddy aiming to capture that hand gently. "There's difference between a little bit of heat that makes your chinks prettily pink and nasty hot chainmail," he says quietly. "But the good thing about hatchings is there's always good food and drink after."
"I don't know who D'pry is, personally. He's young or old?" Nenita asks, glancing over her shoulder at the group of girls still hanging out. "Hopefully it'll go quickly so that I can get something to eat afterwards. I'm pretty sure that I won't be able to do much about it beforehand." She rolls her eyes before beginning to slip off of the barstool. "I should probably go back to my little band of 'friends'. Before they miss me too much."
"Young, from Nalaieth's last," P'draig explains about the other he's tapping. "And that's probably a good idea, nibble on something light so you don't pass out from heat and hunger, if you have enough notice, grab a quick drink of water before you get shoved out on the Sands because it'll be crazy out there no matter what and right after, if you do impress you'll be really busy and might forget to eat until we remind you and if you don't ... you might need time to you know, process," Paddy says gently. He tilts up his drink, finishes it off and slips around the bar a little himself, arms held out. "You have fun over there, okay? And if you need anything before the eggs pop, just let me know." After that, there's a hug for the candidate, another encouraging smile and a little wave as he turns back to the kitchen to catch up on orders.
Nenita returns the hug, leaning into it a little bit longer than maybe necessary before she legs out. There's a smile and not so much in response to his advice, maybe she's just mulling it all over. After all, there's probably been lots and lots of people giving her lots and lots of advice the past several weeks. She pushes the stool back before heading through the crowds and back to her friends.
When: It is a spring night, 21:52 of day 18, month 4, turn 20 of Interval 10.
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy and Nenny chat at the 'bar. There's some pep talk involved and a little low-level flirting.
Evening, the Sandbar, people drinking, other people eating. Some eating AND drinking. Paddy is doing neither because he's cooking, go figure, though he's leaning on the bar just at the moment, cooling off a little and fanning his face with a towel while two people at the bar not far away enjoy the fruits of his labors.
Well, it's pretty much the very end of candidacy. And it's taken up until now for Nenita to bond with some of the other inmates. She's seated at one of the tables, drink in hand and chatting loudly with a group of girls, seemingly a little younger than herself. There's some loud laughter all of a sudden and she smacks her down on the table right in the middle of it, giggling like a fiend. The older candidate takes a breath and slides out of her seat, heading towards the bar, presumably to maybe order some food.
That laughter brings P'draig's gaze over and he grins lopsidedly for the cheer over yonder. Nenita's approach changes that grin to a full on one, expression warm to welcome the candidate cook. "Hey there, Nenny," he says fondly and stops flapping that towel around. "Having a good time? Looks like you've made some good friends," he adds with a tilt of his head to the side to take a further peek at that cluster of girls. "Girls' night out?"
"Wouldn't exactly call them good friends, but they're a nice sort." Nenita says with a smile over her shoulder. She slips onto of the stools, placing her drink onto the counter. "Rilka just turned eighteen. So we're having a little get together." There's a finger pointed in the general direction of a dark haired girl who's wearing an odd hat. "How's the kitchen? Got time to spit out some fries?"
"Nice can lead to good?" P'draig suggests with a chuckle and anothehr look towards the cluster. "Birthday girl hm? Want me to make her something more special than fries? Dance on the tables? Pay for a round?" he jokes a little and nods. "Sure, can do on fries. Most of the big orders are tapering off now, mostly snacks and appetizers."
"It can, maybe." Nenita glances back again, though her expression registers some doubt over that.. A gently raised 'brow indicates amusement with the next, "I think if you danced on the table it would be a violation of some rule. A no... dancing suggestively on tables for candidates rule. Whoever's in charge of us would come crashing down through the roof of the Sandbar. Life as we know it for you would be over."
"Don't think so with them?" P'draig queries further, leaning an elbow back down to the bar, attentive to the shifts in Nenny's tone and expression. Laughter follows and he shakes his head. "As long as I don't knock any of you up from dancing around on the table, I don't think it'd be a problem. Unless they're tightening the candidate rules up?"
"Probably not. They're a little on the young side of things." Nenita admits, not glancing back this time. Her drink is sipped from and she smiles around the straw, humor still plainly written there. "A line has to be drawn somewhere. Dancing on tables could lead to other things and that simply can't be had. They'd have to stop you before all the girls climbed up there and took advantage of you."
"Mm. Age differences. They can be pesky," P'draig says lightly and doesn't you know, delve into the ten turn age difference between /them/. Grinning, Paddy shakes his head. "I think I could fend off a few teenagers. After all I managed to duck Neraset, the most persistent cleavage dropper in the weyrling class last cycle," he notes with a wink. "Besides, the only one out of the bunch I'm interested in being taken advantage of by, is sitting right here." And there's another smile for her before his head tilts towards the kitchen. "Give me a second to go drop tubers in the fryer and I'll be right back. Can I get you anything else while I'm in there? Some fresh fruit came in today."
Pesky. "You know what I mean." Nenita says with a wave of her hand. After all those are teenagers and she's an adult, of course. "Cleavage dropper doesn't sound very attractive. Using the word drop around the subject of breasts just makes me think of..." Here she drops her hands way, way below where boobs should be, indicating some major sagging of the ol' funbags. For his compliment she smiles cheekily, wiggling fingers. "Less than a seven likely. Hopefully you can control yourself." Mention of the kitchens her leaning over to peek back there and she mmhmms and nods while sipping on the drink again.
"Mm. Teenagers," P'draig echoes the thought and laughs as he pushes away from the bar. "Her top, more. Or lack of. You know. Drop top. Hellooo cleavage. And a lot of heaving." A little eye roll and his fingers wiggle back at her, playful. "Even if it's more than a seven, I can control myself. Even if it's a /lot/ more than a seven. But, hold that thought." One finger upraised and he dips into the kitchen to set the fries to frying, returns with a bowl of what's effectively fruit salad, fresh cut, tropical mostly, too early for berries.
"Isn't there some sort of dress code in weyrlinghood? You'd think hiding your breasts would be part of that. It might give the men thoughts that the dragons can't process. You should have given her a blankie." Nenita makes like she's pulling a shawl over her shoulders, one that drapes across her chest. "You're the one that brought up table dancing!" She calls after him, still in mid-lean. When he returns with fruit, her fingers dart out to select a tasty piece.
"It was a summer clutch, like this one will be, for part of it," P'draig points out. "I'm not about to make weyrlings run around in the Istan heat in full leathers all day," the Weyrlingmaster says as he settles the bowl. "I told her to cut it out or get left back, basically and to start wearing her whole shirt instead of tying it up under her boobs all the time." He smiles when she takes that piece and he steals one himself, munches. "Shirt and shorts, comfortable shoes is what's usually called for. If the weyrlings are up in the air, leathers - light for Ista. And I do a lot of the actual exercise down at the beach, lots of swimming instead of lots of laps in summer."
"I didn't mean full riding leathers. I just meant shirts where your tits didn't pop out so easily." Nenita does more hand motions, even though her fingers are preoccupied with a fruit pieces. "Anyway. Did she listen when you finally told her to cover up? Or did she just wear shorter-shorts to compensate?" The prospect of running laps and swimming for lone stretches of time get a blank. An unreadable look. Her thoughts on lots of physical exercise are probably not so positive.
"It took a couple of tries, but it got through eventually that throwing herself at me, at T'mic, at the other weyrlings at any rider who looked cute to her, wasn't doing her any favors. That at her green helped hammer it home." That look earns a slow smile. "What, not looking forward to the workouts if you Impress?" he asks quietly and steals another piece of fruit.
"Maybe in other places it would have gotten her plenty of favors. But none of them would have been particularly helpful in her situation, I suppose." Nenita grins before popping another piece into her mouth. "Not really. I'm short, I can't run fast and I don't swim all that well. And I happen to be very attached to my little pads of fat." She even goes so far as to poke at them. Lovingly.
"No, it wasn't going to get her ahead in lessons and I don't screw 'my' weyrlings," P'draig says in tone that's conversational still, but a little bit lower in volume, "no matter how pretty and insistent." Paddy considers Nenny from head to toe for a moment. "Well, if you do impress, we'll have to work on all that. For now, I'll just enjoy your figure in all its glory at least as an object of admiration since I have to keep my hands to myself." And up goes his finger again. "Fries."
"I don't remember making the insinuation that you do sleep with your students." Nenita waves a piece of fruit around before dropping it into her drink. "Change all of what? Change me into some sort of... I don't know. Like those women you see in murals and tapestries. All beautiful and regal and fancy and perfect? I'm not sure that I want to be one of those girls, P'draig. I'm mostly okay with normal and average." When he goes, she leans into her drink to begin sipping.
"No, you didn't but she seemed to expect me to," P'draig explains. "Took a conversation and then some to get it through her head." His shoulders roll and he smiles as he starts to backtrack towards the kitchen. "No Nenny, if you impress it'll just be about getting into enough shape to be a good rider. You're perfect just the way you are." He's gone for a few minutes, returns with a seasoned basket of fries. "Would you like to do the honors, or should I?"
"I suppose so. I'm feeling very confident that I'm going to walk right off those sands though and back into my kitchens. Maybe we won't have to worry about the shape of my body and how much of a good rider I can become." Nenita seems quite pleased with that line of assumption and sips from her drink, playing with the fruit that's in there sucking up all the booze. "Oh, you go right ahead, I doubt they've noticed my absence. She'll faint at the sight of you." And indeed, the gaggle of girls doesn't seem to be missing Nenny nor do they seem ready to anytime soon.
"Maybe we will and maybe we won't," P'draig answers mildly, "regardless, I'll still like the shape of your body just fine," he says boldly, reaches over to gently tweak back a bit of her hair before he pushes away from the bar. "All right then, I'll go be charming, make the birthday girl's day and come right back. Don't go anywhere?" And with that he heads over to the gaggle and with a gallant gesture, delivers the fries, explains their provenance, pays the birthday girl a compliment, flashes his most charming smile then returns to Nenita with a little exaggerated swing in his hips to make the teenagers giggle all the more and maybe swoon. It's Nenny though that his eyes twinkle for, expression saying something akin to 'how 'bout them apples?'
Nenita smiles for the hair tweaking, dropping the subject of weyrlings and impression and all of that to turn around and watch him flirt with the girls. She grins lopsidely before turning back to the bar and finishing off whatever actually remains in the glass. "You seem to have been a big hit over there. Were you able to get any names or were they much, much too star struck?"
"It's all in the grin," P'draig notes with a wry chuckle and fishes a little scrap of paper out of his waistband, hands it over to Nenny. "Name and cot number. I'll use it for kindling back there," he tilts his head towards the kitchen and re-settles his elbows on the bar, steals some more of her fruit. "Sick of waiting, yet?"
Nenita laughs, "I think that's a man thing. Being able to grin and sweep a woman off her feet." When the paper comes out she simply laughs again, fishing the fruit out of the bottom of her glass. It's popped into her mouth while she says some name and cot number for him. "I'm anxious, very, very anxious and ready for it to be done already."
"Oh there's girls who do it too. You should see my sister in action sometime." P'draig winks at her again, then leans over to fish up a bottle from behind the bar to make himself a drink. "Yeah, I get that. It seems like it goes on forever and then you get to this crazy moment and everything either goes mostly back to the way it was, or changes forever."
"I'm sure that it's a site to behold." She tells him while devouring that alcohol soaked piece of fruit. It's finished up quickly and she licks her lips, pushing the glass away. "The crazy moment should be very, very soon. So hopefully everything is going to work out and be fine, fine, fine. It's not as if anything bad could happen while I'm out there. Afterall, you've all said I probably won't need a helmet or anything."
"She might come by sometime and maybe you'll get to see it, meet her." P'draig sets that one bottle down, adds a layer of something else atop his drink and lifts it Nenny's way. "Here's to you, Nenny and good fortune however it all turns out. A helmet no. And I sincerely hope it's a nice clean hatching. Either way, I'll be there and so will Mic and Javeri and D'pry, so if anything does happen, you know you've got some trusty souls out there keeping an eye out for you."
"Well, I don't know if I need a charming smile thrown my way but it would nice to meet this sister that you talk about so much." Nenita clinks her empty glass against his full one. If this was a more tragic scene, there would be some sick symbolism there. "I'm thinking about wearing chain mail under my robe anyway. No one is going to feel me up and check, is there?" She purses her lips before peering down at the bottom of the empty cup. "I got a card from the Layabout crew. But I still haven't seen Javeri since that night."
"Heh. No she's the type who makes friends easily," P'draig continues. "Very energetic." Fond again and then there's clinking glasses and thank goodness it's not tragic. "So we'll be serving roasted Nenny after the hatching for the feast?" he quips about the chain mail and sips from his glass. "Though you know, something sturdier than a flimsy white robe isn't a half bad idea. I don't know why pants shouldn't be allowed." He laughs about the feeling up and shakes his head. "Only me, if you let me. But I wouldn't really try. I know better than to get a candidate in trouble. The most you'll get out of me, is this." And he kisses his two fingers, brushes them lightly towards her cheek. "She's ... having a rough time of it," Paddy says quietly about Veri. "And then I go and tap her for one of my assistants."
"Roasted and pinched by the little pieces of metal, yes." Nenita tells him, once again placing her glass back down on the bar top. "I always wondered about that, all the times that I watched. The robes are so threadbare sometimes too, from being used over and over again." She grins as the two fingers come across her cheek and she catches them, depositing a little kiss before allowing them to escape again. "Yeah, so you've told me." She shrugs her shoulders, making a ring out of some wetness on the table. "You made her an assistant? I told her she should do that!"
"I like my Nenitas whole and unroasted," P'draig quips further and beams for that little kiss, then joins her in bar-top drawing, sunrays reaching for that circle. "Yep, I did. She and Chadamalith have a very particular, kind of bond and that kind of perspective is really useful in case there's more like that. Mic and Aath they're really close and had trouble separating, Veri and Chad were the opposite so they b alance each other for perspective." He smiles again, fondly at the candidate. "You did? Well, she said yes, so there you go."
"I'm surprised that she did. Did you have to trick her? When I suggested it she was very adament about not wanting to do something like that." Nenita hums along in agreement to everything he says. "That's what I was thinking too. The different perspective." As for whole and unroasted Nenitas she waves her hand dismissively. "I don't think we have much of a choice in the matter. The sands will cook me no matter what."
"Nope, though I did provide food and beer while I was asking and asked her and Mic at the same time," P'draig notes. "I think it might have made her feel better to know that it's me and Mic again. D'pry's brand new to it too so they'll both be learning this time around," the weyrlingmaster explains. "And yes, the only thing I'm really missing on this team is a girl on green, but there's enough around that when it comes time if the weyrling girls on green have questions it shouldn't be hard for them to find someone to talk to." That dismissive wave is reached for, Paddy aiming to capture that hand gently. "There's difference between a little bit of heat that makes your chinks prettily pink and nasty hot chainmail," he says quietly. "But the good thing about hatchings is there's always good food and drink after."
"I don't know who D'pry is, personally. He's young or old?" Nenita asks, glancing over her shoulder at the group of girls still hanging out. "Hopefully it'll go quickly so that I can get something to eat afterwards. I'm pretty sure that I won't be able to do much about it beforehand." She rolls her eyes before beginning to slip off of the barstool. "I should probably go back to my little band of 'friends'. Before they miss me too much."
"Young, from Nalaieth's last," P'draig explains about the other he's tapping. "And that's probably a good idea, nibble on something light so you don't pass out from heat and hunger, if you have enough notice, grab a quick drink of water before you get shoved out on the Sands because it'll be crazy out there no matter what and right after, if you do impress you'll be really busy and might forget to eat until we remind you and if you don't ... you might need time to you know, process," Paddy says gently. He tilts up his drink, finishes it off and slips around the bar a little himself, arms held out. "You have fun over there, okay? And if you need anything before the eggs pop, just let me know." After that, there's a hug for the candidate, another encouraging smile and a little wave as he turns back to the kitchen to catch up on orders.
Nenita returns the hug, leaning into it a little bit longer than maybe necessary before she legs out. There's a smile and not so much in response to his advice, maybe she's just mulling it all over. After all, there's probably been lots and lots of people giving her lots and lots of advice the past several weeks. She pushes the stool back before heading through the crowds and back to her friends.