Log: Distractions
Who: Nenita, P'draig
When: day 21, month 1, turn 23 of the 10th interval
Where: Library, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy comes across a sleepy, hardworking Nenny and offers light distraction as a break from dealing with difficult people and situations.
Library, Ista Weyr(#264RJ)
This is a cavern, chosen for its drier atmosphere, houses rows and rows of shelving containing bound hide volumes on all manner of study. Everything from Weyr records to sheet music to dress patterns to novels can be found here. Tidy labeled recesses against one wall serve as storage for stacks of neatly rolls hides. Small circular tables are off to the left side of the room, prim and functional chairs surrounding each, providing a place for quiet work either along or in groups. There are a few occasional chairs are well, upholstered with stripes of Ista's black and orange, a comfortable place for a person to curl up and do some reading.
Near the entryway is a cart with a water pitcher and a few carved wooden cups, and a few light blankets are hung on pegs for those more accustomed to the warmer Istan clime so prevalent on the surface. A mild breeze blows through the room from the lower caverns and to the west stands the wide door of the meeting room.
It's the libary, far past noon and heading towards dinner. Nenita is situated at one of the tables near the entrance, catching some of the breeze coming in off of the ledge. She takes a moment to break away from her paperwork and sit upright, back pressed against the chair. She brushes some hair out of her face and sighs, letting her eyes drift towards the outside, catching a glimpse of the outside. For a moment she stares out there before breaking away and putting pen to paper again.
Footsteps echo in the hallway and P'draig appears in the doorway, looking a little damp, though more in the sense of 'just washed' as opposed to 'still sweaty from cooking'. It's the break time for the Beach House, between lunch and dinner and the brownrider seems to be stealing a little bit of that time for research. He pauses as soon as he catches sight of the Weyrwoman, hand resting on the doorframe still and watches as her gaze drops back down to her work. A moment later, Paddy pushes off, feet carrying him forward. "Hey there," he greets quietly. "Studying hard, or hardly studying?" the brownrider asks lightly.
How did she miss those footsteps? Surprised, she turns back around and to get a look at him. Nenita's lips curve up into a smile and she gives him a little wave of her hand. "Hardly studying. Want to do my job for me?" She asks with an amused glint to her eyes, she's assuming that the answer is probably going to be a 'no'. But now that P'draig is here she has an excuse not to work and ends up flipping her ledger and closed and putting the pen down on top of it. "What are you up to?"
"If that's a ledger, then no. I've been needing help with those. Apparently my bookkeeping skills are really suspect," P'draig answers with a little wry chuckle and briefly aims to rest his hand on her shoulder on the way by before he takes the seat next to hers. "Otherwise, I'd gladly help out," is the follow up and he grins, looks toward the stacks. "I've been doing a little research into recipes and things. Loe asked me if I'd consider providing meals for the cottages. But that'd mean being open or at least having someone available to cook more days than the restaurant is open now."
"Suspect?" Nenita asks with an eyebrow lifting upwards. "Right, right. Everyone is always willing to help until they realize it's a ledger." She pushes it away from them, out of sight, out of mind. She turns around in her seat so that she can more properly face the brownrider. "Meals to the cottages? It sounds like a great idea. Well, being open a little bit more probably won't kill you. Who knows, it'll probably generate a little more revenue or something."
"Yeah, I'm not that great with figuring out how to balance the books," P'draig confesses.
"Though I think I'm getting the hang of it better now. If we start bringing in a little more profit, I might hire a bookkeeper," the brownrider says and leans his elbow on the table so he's also facing Nenita more properly. "I still have sweeps to do," he notes mildly, "and kids to raise. The schedule ... was about balancing things. Unless that's covert permission to work out a deal with my wingleader to have less wing work?" A little amused grin tugs at the side of his mouth.
"Stupid books." Nenita comments with a roll of her eyes, she leans back and pulls her feet onto the chair. "If your profits go up and you find yourself very busy, I won't say anything if you work out a deal to have less wing work. At least, I won't go looking to see exactly what's going on with your schedule." She grins then, equally as amused before she yawns and holds a hand to her mouth. "Sorry, been feeling a little tired lately."
"Heh, won't find me arguing the 'stupid' part of ledger books at least. But hey, I learned something, so that's good." P'draig considers that for a moment, first serious, then with a return of humor. "Mm. Guess I can take that as permission then? Or should I be checking with your Weyrleader?" Paddy asks with a low chuckle. That yawn though and her claim of fatigue lift his eyes to her face. "Not enough sleep?" he asks casually, "Or just too much on your mind?"
"Learning something. Always a positive." Nenita's lips twist up into a smile and she wrinkles her nose. "Sure. I don't think you need to check with Ch'son, I'm sure it'll be fine." There's a negligent flip of her fingers in the direction of the ledges. "If you feel the need you can just drop a line with the weyrsecond that I said it was alright." A little shrug of her shoulders follows, "Bit of this, a bit of that. Hard to get plenty of sleep when you have other things on your mind."
That nose-wrinkle is noted and P'draig's brows start to knit a bit closer together. "Okay," the brownrider says after a moment. "He doesn't ... seem the type to really be all that into details," P'draig says of the Weyrleader carefully and his eyes search Nenita's face again. "Yeah. It is at that," the brownrider says sympathetically, reaches toward the hand she just flipped negligently to offer fingers a comforting squeeze. "Anything I can help with? Need to vent or even just pummel something?" His smile reappears then, a hint of teasing in it.
"No, not particulary. I think he's too busy chasing being this close," And here she holds the tips of her fingers together to indicate a very small space. "To being useless to worry about what you're doing or not doing." Nenita glances at the taken fingers and gives him a wry smile, "No, I'm fine. I just find the people I'm surrounded with on a regular basis to be at times, very annoying. Stupid. And too full of themselves considering all of their other not so awesome qualities."
"Too busy chasing ..." P'draig echoes and trails off, eyeing how he pinches that little bit of air and blows out a breath, shakes his head. "So it's all on you," he murmurs quietly and gives her hand another little squeeze before releasing it. "If I could suddenly make everyone really smart and not annoying, I would," he tells her withh a smile. "Barring that though, I can at least distract you with very good food, including dessert and possibly a walk later?"
"Well, he did go and attempt to chase down that guy who supposedly robbed the Seven. I'm leaving that whole mess on him. If other things end up losing money because of it I will personally remove his balls and replace them with... Something. Marbles maybe." Genius, marbles. She trails her fingers against his hand before his disappears from reach. "Loe does things, but I don't trust her. So there's the catch with that." For his offer her smile makes a return, "We could skip the dinner and go straight to dessert. Double dessert."
"Ouch. And yeah, that was a messy business. Jekzith's been sleeping down on the beach, so I don't think it'll be a problem for the Beach House ... if there's you know, any worry there," P'draig answers with a more serious expression that turns back to a chuckle at mention of marbles. "We'll just have to make sure nothing else staggers, save Ch'son's manhood," the brownrider jokes a little, though his expression shifts as her fingers trail against his hand and his turn, catching lightly at her fingertips again. "Loe ... has a very good head for business, but I don't know if she's got a heart," is his take on things before his smile crooks wide. "Double dessert? That, I can definitely do."
"There's worry everywhere. But I get the feeling the Beach House is probably not as high on anyone's hitlist. Unless they were starting to get brazen. And I don't know if there's any saving of Ch'son's manhood." Nenita replies with a lift of her eyes to the ceiling then back again to the brownrider, grin a little tired. "That's a particularly sensitive subject. If someone only has a head for business but then nothing else under it? I don't know. Maybe I'm not giving her enough credit. It's not like I know anything about her personally. And double dessert it is." She tags on at the end with another quirky smile.
"No saving of it? At all?" P'draig's eyes spark with good-natured humor. "And here I thought he was you know, a very manly man," the brownrider jokes a little bit more. "I think I'll be happy for being low on the hitlist though, last thing we need is more obstacles," P'draig says and takes a breath, nods about Loe. "I think she has the Weyr's best interests in mind at least, if that's any consolation?" His expression softens again though as she agrees to dessert, gives captured fingertips another little squeeze. "So, should I bring that up to you, or would you rather really escape at least as far as the restaurant? We should be closing up around nine, nine-thirty.
"You'd think that, right?" Nenita shoots back, grin still quirky. She leans forward and gives him a playful shove before resting her cheek into the palm of her hand. "Sure it is, sure it is." Possibly, maybe. Maybe it's some sort of consolation. Either way, she appears to be pushing past this part of the conversation, moving more towards her interest in the food. "I'd really rather escape. At least as far as the restaurant, we can hole up in the kitchen or something? Better even than sitting out at one of the tables like a diner."
"Mmhm," P'draig grins at the shove, reaches over to nudge back with a closed hand that unfurls slightly, the backs of fingers brushing lightly at her arm then drawing back. "Escape it is, then," the brownrider agrees. "I'll be in there cleaning up, so just come right on in, even if it's dark on the porch. We can perch on the counter, try out the things I'm planning for the next menu change and be completely silly."
Her eyes flash down to where his fingers brush, then back again an she laughs. "I'll come down once the lights go off. It should take me a few more hours to finish up in here." Nenita gives the closed ledger on the table a wave of her hands. "As long as something you have out there involves chocolate, I'll be game. Some sort of game anyway." She gives her own a hair a good ruffle and pat down before she begins to stretch her arms out back towards the work she had been involved in earlier.
"All right, sounds like a plan then. Lights out, that's the signal to escape from dull ledgers and too many responsibilities," P'draig says merrily and starts to push to his feet. "I have ... a lot of different things right now. I'll surprise you, how's that?" His smile warms fractionally as she ruffles her hair. "And hopefully all the numbers in there will behave," he adds, reaching over to tap the cover of the ledger with two fingers, then he rises, pushes his chair back in. "I'll just grab some of those recipes I was looking at and I'll see you in a few hours." One hand reaches for her shoulder, only meaning to squeeze gently for a moment, then he steps away and off into the stacks to fish out recipes. When he's found what he needed, he walks back out with a wave.
"I guess a surprise is alright, if it's good." Nenita flicks the ledger, like she's scolding it. "They better. Or else I'm just going to throw all of the books in the trash." She shoots a smile at him when he squeezes her shoulder and allows a brief wave, "See you in a few hours, Paddy." While he's fishing around she'll probably watch him for a bit, casually out of the corner of her eye before allowing work to really distract her and get her attention. Well, some of her attention at any rate.
"Aren't mine, usually?" Paddy jokes in parting before he steps away to that research and it could be funny how when she looks his way, he's absorbed and when he peeks over the top of his book, she's working hard. The sun sets, dinner comes and goes and it winds up being a busy night down at the Beach House, which pushes closing a little later than usual, but eventually the glows on the porch are lidded and Paddy retreats to the kitchen to wipe things down, tidy up and then start to set out little plates to prep desserts for his anticipated guest.
In she comes and with a little hop Nenita climbs up onto the counter, choosing that as her perch for now. She leans over a bit to get a better look at the food in front of her, eyeballing the small portions of food that are out on the counter. "I think maybe lighter, starting with that scoop of sorbet that's going to melt into a puddle very, very soon." She helpfully points out, one finger extending to indicate the offending pile of food. Or perhaps, liquidy mess of food. It is getting there very quickly.
"I probably should've waited to plate that," P'draig admits with a laugh and passes over the little plate and a spoon, then ducks down to open up the ice box, fishes out a bowl of whipped cream and hikes himself up onto the counter alongside the goldrider. "Help yourself - this probaby won't keep another day," he says of the cream with a mild look of regret and sets the bowl down between them. "And don't hold back on criticism, I trust your opinion," Paddy says with a grin, snags a basket of strawberries that's been left out on the counter and dips one into the cream, munches while she's trying out the sorbet. "You know what I like best about running this place? Seeing people smile when they taste something they /really/ like."
"Probably. But what are you going to do now? Reverse time?" Nenita asks as she accepts the plate and spoon, dipping one into the other and taking her first bite of it. There's a short, approving nod of her head. "It's good and please, I'd let you hear all the criticism in the world if I had it. You know me, censorship isn't exactly in my list of redeemable qualities." She tries to make it through the sorbet quickly, before it turns into a complete liquid. "Do you? I think you've always liked doing things like that. I'm not sure it has anything to do with the restaurant."
"Sure, just like that," P'draig says with a laugh and snaps his fingers, winks at Nenita and has another bite of cream-laden strawberry. "I know. That's why I trust your opinion. It's always candid," Paddy says after he's swallowed and nods a few times. "Yeah, I do. It's what makes it worthwhile, even if I don't really have a very good head for business ..." he trails off, grins a little and lifts his shoulders. "I like making people happy, sure."
"Sometimes not everyone appreciates what I have to say. But I guess that's just too bad for them, hmm?" Nenita says as the spoon hits her lips again. She's through that little bowl quickly, but then again, she does have something of a bottomless stomach. You know, one of those redeemable qualities. "Too bad T'mic doesn't have a better head for it, then you'd have someone to worry about your books while all you had to do was worry about the cooking and such."
"They're missing out on some serious wisdom, definitely," P'draig teases and pops the last of that first strawberry into his mouth. And the bottomless stomach is probably something a fellow cook can probably appreciate. He almost chokes though on that mouthful of fruit, manages not to either splutter all over or really choke. "T'mic ... uh, yeah, no. He can barely keep what day it is straight half the time. Palia says she wants to learn how to do it. Made a deal with Avrion or something," the brownrider says, faintly bemused as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, reaches for another berry. "He's got the front of the house pretty well in hand though, most nights. He's good at that. You know, making everyone feel comfortable." A little pause follows while he eats a bit more. "Raveki's been helping - looking at the ledgers, making sure I'm not sinking into a hopeless hole of debt. And Murron offered to do the books, maybe regularly, but I can't afford her fee yet unless we trade cooking lessons for bookkeeping."
"Palia? She's a little young, isn't she? Are you going to have her stand on a box while she meets people so she can make eye contact?" The first part is serious, but the rest is said in jest. Mostly jest. She grins cheekily at him as she finishes off the rest of the soupy sorbert. "I... have met Avrion before, Raveki I've had glimpses of. Not a clue on who Murron could be. You certainly get around, with the meeting people thing. Do you make it a point ot meet one new person every day?" She asks, still that teasing in her voice. Just then she uses her spoon to tap on the counter. "Hopefully I can get Bailey to sell her boat."
"Yeah, she is, but she's bound and determined to take over the place when she grows up," P'draig says with a low chuckle for the jest. "I run a restaurant," P'draig points out. "Meeting people kind of goes with the territory. Murron's some kind of scribe person, I think," he adds, brows knitting together to recall exactly what the woman said her job was. "Anyway, if I make a point of it or not, I meet at least one new person a day if not more," the brownrider admits, leans to bump his shoulder towards Nenita's, kidding around a little, then blinks. "Sell her boat?"
"It's a good ten years before that happens, right? A good decade before I have to deal with Palia in charge of the Beach House and you crying that you want to retire? Note, you're never allowed to retire." Nenita gives that counter another tap before she reaches for a different plate of dessert. Switching spoon for fork this time and following up his shoulder bump with one of her own. "Sell her boat. I want to sort of recreate Javeri's Layabout situation, but with the weyr has the only other partner. She's an experienced captain and people seem to like her. There's just the whole... having a baby thing. But I guess that's what the nursery is for."
"Probably more than that," P'draig says with a laugh as shoulders connect. "Especially if she actually wants to try to apprentice, get her journeyman's knot and all that," the brownrider adds and dips a fresh strawberry into the cream while Nenita helps herself to the next dessert, either cobbler or cake based on the fork decision. "Ohhhhh. Well, yeah. It wasn't a bad idea, the cruise boat. And Bailey doesn't seem the type to let one grounding get her down." His feet swing back and forth a little as if he were only 6 instead of 36. "Mm. Plenty of helping hands at the Weyr."
"Oh, very true. Will the craft let her do her training at the restaurant? Or will they ship her someplace else for a less biased teacher? I don't know if I would consider you objective in a situation like that." Nenita wiggles a finger at him. Cobbler it is. "It's true. I think Bailey's got some fighting spirit in her." Realizing what the sounds like she amends, "Not that Javeri didn't have fight. I think she was just more easily discouraged. I have a feeling you'd have to do something pretty bad to keep Bailey from, you know, getting up and punching you back." She turns the fork into the dessert now in her hand, "She wants to be able to buy the weyr out of the boat at some point. I'm not sure exactly how to work that yet."
"She can get her start with me like I did with my grandmothers, but then it'd probably be a good idea for her to train with someone else," P'draig offers over his opinion about baker training. "And no, I couldn't be objective, though I'd try to be fair, for sure." He laughs though at the remark about Bailey. "Yeah. She's got spunk and a stubborn spirit, Bailey does. She was a good waitress too!" Layers of peaches lie beneath a flaky crust with the added twist of blueberries to provide contrasting flavor. "Yeah? Huh. Well that's probably smart of her. Maybe a payment plan if it reaches a certain level of profit?" He considers for a moment, then clears his throat. "Speaking of buying out the Weyr ... what do you think about a similar kind of plan for the Beach House?"
"Very fair, I'm sure." Nenita tells him, her tone indulgent before she slips the fork in between her lips to smile closed mouthed at him. "I don't think you're going to be getting her back as a waitress, not if I can help it anyway. She has other things on her plate though..." Her mouth twists and then she gives her shoulders a shrug, giving him a look when he clears his throat. "A similar kind of plan for the Beach House? You guys are killing me. Let me pull up the contracts we have for the Seven, I'll look them over. I'll see if I can't figure out some sort of transition to a plan that's similar to theirs."
"It'll make it a bit easier to balance the profit margin," P'draig explains, see he's been paying attention. "If I own the land the place is sitting on outright," he continues. "I'll still pay over a percentage to the Weyr though. I mean ... this was always about bringing people here, supporting the Weyr in a slightly different way." Paddy grins a little, then reaches over to aim a dab of cream at Nenita's nose. "And that's the last bit of business I'll bring up. You're supposed to be escaping and being silly, remember?"
The fork is tapped against her lips now. "I wish I was better at this sort of thing. But I guess that's why we have Loe, to figure out the little things. Let me get those plans though, I'll try to see if I can draw something up. It'll be on my list." She makes like she's adding to an imaginary note in the air. Her nose instantly wrinkles when the cream comes to it. "I know you didn't just do that." Sounding serious as she leans over and slips her finger into the remnants of her sorbet. There's an aim to leave some on his cheek.
"Okay," P'draig says simply about the plans and contracts and just /grins/ at the goldrider. "Nope, not at all," he says with mock-innocence that ends in laughter as his cheek gets painted berry-bright with melted sorbet. "If our mothers were here, they'd be yelling about not playing with our food." But the next dab of cream is angling for her forehead.
Nenita can't just work on a tit for tat level. It's unfortunate really. Because if she were a normal person she'd laugh and just attack him with another finger full of sorbet. But no, no. She has to put four fingers and one thumb onto the plate and reaching over to lay one sticky hand onto his neck and jaw. "If my foster mother was here she'd beat us both with a spatula."
Palm print! Escalation! "Good thing they're not here then," P'draig says oh-so solemnly and promptly plants a handful of cream against the side of her face, grin fighting to stay hidden. He really doesn't have a good poker face. "Has anyone ever told you that cream is totally your color?" he teases brightly, eyes dancing with mischief.
"Excellent thing." Nenita laughs and makes a squealing noise when his hand comes to her face. She reaches down and flings the rest of the cobbler at him, jumping down from the counter and making a mad dash to get out of the kitchen. Hopefully before he can recover from his shock and throw a kitchen sink or an entire drawer of lettuce at her. "No, not yet. First time for everything!"
Laughter starts and is interrupted by cobbler to the gut. "Damn. Guess the blueberries didn't taste good," P'draig declares and hops off the counter a few steps behind Nenita to chase after her. "Well it's the fashion statement of the season, wearing your food to the party!" He's got longer legs, she's shorter and more maneuverable and there's a clear path out of the kitchen through the restaurant side of the porch and out to the beach. The other exit into the cothold is barred by a swinging door.
Nenita goes for the path of least resistance and hangs it right out the door, through the restaurant and towards the side porch. She circumvents going down to the steps to the beach and instead tries to fling herself over the railing and into the sand. Remember that part about being manuverable? Maybe not as much as one would think. Crash. "Ow, ow." Is intermingled with laughter as she tries to get herself to her feet. "Ow, ow. I need to get in better shape, ow, ow." When he arrives to the scene she'll be rubbing her ankle vigorously.
Paddy, on the other hand, is actually in very good shape and used to hopping over these railings. Which he does. Easily. And lands nearby, comes over with a shaking head and hunkers down next to the goldrider. "Come run with me at the crack of dawn," he says jovially, winks at her, then reaches over toward her ankle, checking to make sure it's not broken. "You okay though?" Blue-gray eyes lift to her face, scanning her features.
"I guess I'm okay. I kind of twisted it when I landed in the sand. I'm sure it's fine though. Ow." Nenita winces and sits down in the sand, pulling her leg up to get a better look at it. It's kind of swollen, but not what someone would call a broken looking ankle. Plus if it was really that bad she'd probably be sobbing rather than just going 'ow ow ow ow' here and there. "I should probably just rest it for the night or something."
"Definitely. Let's get some ice on it," P'draig says pragmatically after testing out that swollen area with gentle fingers, straightens a little. "C'mon, I'll carry you back in, put an ice pack on and feed you the rest of your desserts as penitence?" he suggests with a grin. "And yeah staying off of it would be a good idea."
She makes a face when he pokes at her swollen parts (ah ha ha ha ha). Nenita lifts one arm up so that she can loop it around his neck and be properly carried back inside. "Maybe I'll just crash on your couch or something tonight. In the morning if it's still swollen I'll go to the healers. Possibly." Which means unless someone tracks her down and checks she's going to limp on home at the crack of dawn. "You should probably sing to me while you're feeding me. And dance and juggle. You know, if we're going to make sure the penitence is fully paid and all." There's a smirk and she'll allow any and all carrying to occur without too much struggle.
P'draig swings the goldrider up into his arms easily to carry her back into the kitchen. "Don't have to crash on the couch," the brownrider says quietly. "There's plenty of room in the bed and I can keep my hands to myself," he claims, "or sleep on the hammock out on the back porch." He laughs though at the suggested entertainments. "Singing I can do, a little dancing too, not sure about juggling, could just lead to broken crockery. But whatever you see fit to lay on me for penitence, I'll pay up," Paddy concludes with a smile as they reach the kitchen.
"If you put your hands anywhere I'll just whimper about my ankle, I get the feeling that's a real mood killer if you know what I mean." Nenita tightens her arms around his neck, making sure that even if he happens to drop her, she'll take him down with her when she falls. She laughs as they enter the kitchen, her spirits high for the remainder of the evening, even if her ankle is getting gradually more swollen. And when they go to bed she'll likely relent and sleep in with him (rather than force him out onto his own porch), a respectable distance apart aside from some relatively innocent cuddling.
When: day 21, month 1, turn 23 of the 10th interval
Where: Library, Ista Weyr
What: Paddy comes across a sleepy, hardworking Nenny and offers light distraction as a break from dealing with difficult people and situations.
Library, Ista Weyr(#264RJ)
This is a cavern, chosen for its drier atmosphere, houses rows and rows of shelving containing bound hide volumes on all manner of study. Everything from Weyr records to sheet music to dress patterns to novels can be found here. Tidy labeled recesses against one wall serve as storage for stacks of neatly rolls hides. Small circular tables are off to the left side of the room, prim and functional chairs surrounding each, providing a place for quiet work either along or in groups. There are a few occasional chairs are well, upholstered with stripes of Ista's black and orange, a comfortable place for a person to curl up and do some reading.
Near the entryway is a cart with a water pitcher and a few carved wooden cups, and a few light blankets are hung on pegs for those more accustomed to the warmer Istan clime so prevalent on the surface. A mild breeze blows through the room from the lower caverns and to the west stands the wide door of the meeting room.
It's the libary, far past noon and heading towards dinner. Nenita is situated at one of the tables near the entrance, catching some of the breeze coming in off of the ledge. She takes a moment to break away from her paperwork and sit upright, back pressed against the chair. She brushes some hair out of her face and sighs, letting her eyes drift towards the outside, catching a glimpse of the outside. For a moment she stares out there before breaking away and putting pen to paper again.
Footsteps echo in the hallway and P'draig appears in the doorway, looking a little damp, though more in the sense of 'just washed' as opposed to 'still sweaty from cooking'. It's the break time for the Beach House, between lunch and dinner and the brownrider seems to be stealing a little bit of that time for research. He pauses as soon as he catches sight of the Weyrwoman, hand resting on the doorframe still and watches as her gaze drops back down to her work. A moment later, Paddy pushes off, feet carrying him forward. "Hey there," he greets quietly. "Studying hard, or hardly studying?" the brownrider asks lightly.
How did she miss those footsteps? Surprised, she turns back around and to get a look at him. Nenita's lips curve up into a smile and she gives him a little wave of her hand. "Hardly studying. Want to do my job for me?" She asks with an amused glint to her eyes, she's assuming that the answer is probably going to be a 'no'. But now that P'draig is here she has an excuse not to work and ends up flipping her ledger and closed and putting the pen down on top of it. "What are you up to?"
"If that's a ledger, then no. I've been needing help with those. Apparently my bookkeeping skills are really suspect," P'draig answers with a little wry chuckle and briefly aims to rest his hand on her shoulder on the way by before he takes the seat next to hers. "Otherwise, I'd gladly help out," is the follow up and he grins, looks toward the stacks. "I've been doing a little research into recipes and things. Loe asked me if I'd consider providing meals for the cottages. But that'd mean being open or at least having someone available to cook more days than the restaurant is open now."
"Suspect?" Nenita asks with an eyebrow lifting upwards. "Right, right. Everyone is always willing to help until they realize it's a ledger." She pushes it away from them, out of sight, out of mind. She turns around in her seat so that she can more properly face the brownrider. "Meals to the cottages? It sounds like a great idea. Well, being open a little bit more probably won't kill you. Who knows, it'll probably generate a little more revenue or something."
"Yeah, I'm not that great with figuring out how to balance the books," P'draig confesses.
"Though I think I'm getting the hang of it better now. If we start bringing in a little more profit, I might hire a bookkeeper," the brownrider says and leans his elbow on the table so he's also facing Nenita more properly. "I still have sweeps to do," he notes mildly, "and kids to raise. The schedule ... was about balancing things. Unless that's covert permission to work out a deal with my wingleader to have less wing work?" A little amused grin tugs at the side of his mouth.
"Stupid books." Nenita comments with a roll of her eyes, she leans back and pulls her feet onto the chair. "If your profits go up and you find yourself very busy, I won't say anything if you work out a deal to have less wing work. At least, I won't go looking to see exactly what's going on with your schedule." She grins then, equally as amused before she yawns and holds a hand to her mouth. "Sorry, been feeling a little tired lately."
"Heh, won't find me arguing the 'stupid' part of ledger books at least. But hey, I learned something, so that's good." P'draig considers that for a moment, first serious, then with a return of humor. "Mm. Guess I can take that as permission then? Or should I be checking with your Weyrleader?" Paddy asks with a low chuckle. That yawn though and her claim of fatigue lift his eyes to her face. "Not enough sleep?" he asks casually, "Or just too much on your mind?"
"Learning something. Always a positive." Nenita's lips twist up into a smile and she wrinkles her nose. "Sure. I don't think you need to check with Ch'son, I'm sure it'll be fine." There's a negligent flip of her fingers in the direction of the ledges. "If you feel the need you can just drop a line with the weyrsecond that I said it was alright." A little shrug of her shoulders follows, "Bit of this, a bit of that. Hard to get plenty of sleep when you have other things on your mind."
That nose-wrinkle is noted and P'draig's brows start to knit a bit closer together. "Okay," the brownrider says after a moment. "He doesn't ... seem the type to really be all that into details," P'draig says of the Weyrleader carefully and his eyes search Nenita's face again. "Yeah. It is at that," the brownrider says sympathetically, reaches toward the hand she just flipped negligently to offer fingers a comforting squeeze. "Anything I can help with? Need to vent or even just pummel something?" His smile reappears then, a hint of teasing in it.
"No, not particulary. I think he's too busy chasing being this close," And here she holds the tips of her fingers together to indicate a very small space. "To being useless to worry about what you're doing or not doing." Nenita glances at the taken fingers and gives him a wry smile, "No, I'm fine. I just find the people I'm surrounded with on a regular basis to be at times, very annoying. Stupid. And too full of themselves considering all of their other not so awesome qualities."
"Too busy chasing ..." P'draig echoes and trails off, eyeing how he pinches that little bit of air and blows out a breath, shakes his head. "So it's all on you," he murmurs quietly and gives her hand another little squeeze before releasing it. "If I could suddenly make everyone really smart and not annoying, I would," he tells her withh a smile. "Barring that though, I can at least distract you with very good food, including dessert and possibly a walk later?"
"Well, he did go and attempt to chase down that guy who supposedly robbed the Seven. I'm leaving that whole mess on him. If other things end up losing money because of it I will personally remove his balls and replace them with... Something. Marbles maybe." Genius, marbles. She trails her fingers against his hand before his disappears from reach. "Loe does things, but I don't trust her. So there's the catch with that." For his offer her smile makes a return, "We could skip the dinner and go straight to dessert. Double dessert."
"Ouch. And yeah, that was a messy business. Jekzith's been sleeping down on the beach, so I don't think it'll be a problem for the Beach House ... if there's you know, any worry there," P'draig answers with a more serious expression that turns back to a chuckle at mention of marbles. "We'll just have to make sure nothing else staggers, save Ch'son's manhood," the brownrider jokes a little, though his expression shifts as her fingers trail against his hand and his turn, catching lightly at her fingertips again. "Loe ... has a very good head for business, but I don't know if she's got a heart," is his take on things before his smile crooks wide. "Double dessert? That, I can definitely do."
"There's worry everywhere. But I get the feeling the Beach House is probably not as high on anyone's hitlist. Unless they were starting to get brazen. And I don't know if there's any saving of Ch'son's manhood." Nenita replies with a lift of her eyes to the ceiling then back again to the brownrider, grin a little tired. "That's a particularly sensitive subject. If someone only has a head for business but then nothing else under it? I don't know. Maybe I'm not giving her enough credit. It's not like I know anything about her personally. And double dessert it is." She tags on at the end with another quirky smile.
"No saving of it? At all?" P'draig's eyes spark with good-natured humor. "And here I thought he was you know, a very manly man," the brownrider jokes a little bit more. "I think I'll be happy for being low on the hitlist though, last thing we need is more obstacles," P'draig says and takes a breath, nods about Loe. "I think she has the Weyr's best interests in mind at least, if that's any consolation?" His expression softens again though as she agrees to dessert, gives captured fingertips another little squeeze. "So, should I bring that up to you, or would you rather really escape at least as far as the restaurant? We should be closing up around nine, nine-thirty.
"You'd think that, right?" Nenita shoots back, grin still quirky. She leans forward and gives him a playful shove before resting her cheek into the palm of her hand. "Sure it is, sure it is." Possibly, maybe. Maybe it's some sort of consolation. Either way, she appears to be pushing past this part of the conversation, moving more towards her interest in the food. "I'd really rather escape. At least as far as the restaurant, we can hole up in the kitchen or something? Better even than sitting out at one of the tables like a diner."
"Mmhm," P'draig grins at the shove, reaches over to nudge back with a closed hand that unfurls slightly, the backs of fingers brushing lightly at her arm then drawing back. "Escape it is, then," the brownrider agrees. "I'll be in there cleaning up, so just come right on in, even if it's dark on the porch. We can perch on the counter, try out the things I'm planning for the next menu change and be completely silly."
Her eyes flash down to where his fingers brush, then back again an she laughs. "I'll come down once the lights go off. It should take me a few more hours to finish up in here." Nenita gives the closed ledger on the table a wave of her hands. "As long as something you have out there involves chocolate, I'll be game. Some sort of game anyway." She gives her own a hair a good ruffle and pat down before she begins to stretch her arms out back towards the work she had been involved in earlier.
"All right, sounds like a plan then. Lights out, that's the signal to escape from dull ledgers and too many responsibilities," P'draig says merrily and starts to push to his feet. "I have ... a lot of different things right now. I'll surprise you, how's that?" His smile warms fractionally as she ruffles her hair. "And hopefully all the numbers in there will behave," he adds, reaching over to tap the cover of the ledger with two fingers, then he rises, pushes his chair back in. "I'll just grab some of those recipes I was looking at and I'll see you in a few hours." One hand reaches for her shoulder, only meaning to squeeze gently for a moment, then he steps away and off into the stacks to fish out recipes. When he's found what he needed, he walks back out with a wave.
"I guess a surprise is alright, if it's good." Nenita flicks the ledger, like she's scolding it. "They better. Or else I'm just going to throw all of the books in the trash." She shoots a smile at him when he squeezes her shoulder and allows a brief wave, "See you in a few hours, Paddy." While he's fishing around she'll probably watch him for a bit, casually out of the corner of her eye before allowing work to really distract her and get her attention. Well, some of her attention at any rate.
"Aren't mine, usually?" Paddy jokes in parting before he steps away to that research and it could be funny how when she looks his way, he's absorbed and when he peeks over the top of his book, she's working hard. The sun sets, dinner comes and goes and it winds up being a busy night down at the Beach House, which pushes closing a little later than usual, but eventually the glows on the porch are lidded and Paddy retreats to the kitchen to wipe things down, tidy up and then start to set out little plates to prep desserts for his anticipated guest.
In she comes and with a little hop Nenita climbs up onto the counter, choosing that as her perch for now. She leans over a bit to get a better look at the food in front of her, eyeballing the small portions of food that are out on the counter. "I think maybe lighter, starting with that scoop of sorbet that's going to melt into a puddle very, very soon." She helpfully points out, one finger extending to indicate the offending pile of food. Or perhaps, liquidy mess of food. It is getting there very quickly.
"I probably should've waited to plate that," P'draig admits with a laugh and passes over the little plate and a spoon, then ducks down to open up the ice box, fishes out a bowl of whipped cream and hikes himself up onto the counter alongside the goldrider. "Help yourself - this probaby won't keep another day," he says of the cream with a mild look of regret and sets the bowl down between them. "And don't hold back on criticism, I trust your opinion," Paddy says with a grin, snags a basket of strawberries that's been left out on the counter and dips one into the cream, munches while she's trying out the sorbet. "You know what I like best about running this place? Seeing people smile when they taste something they /really/ like."
"Probably. But what are you going to do now? Reverse time?" Nenita asks as she accepts the plate and spoon, dipping one into the other and taking her first bite of it. There's a short, approving nod of her head. "It's good and please, I'd let you hear all the criticism in the world if I had it. You know me, censorship isn't exactly in my list of redeemable qualities." She tries to make it through the sorbet quickly, before it turns into a complete liquid. "Do you? I think you've always liked doing things like that. I'm not sure it has anything to do with the restaurant."
"Sure, just like that," P'draig says with a laugh and snaps his fingers, winks at Nenita and has another bite of cream-laden strawberry. "I know. That's why I trust your opinion. It's always candid," Paddy says after he's swallowed and nods a few times. "Yeah, I do. It's what makes it worthwhile, even if I don't really have a very good head for business ..." he trails off, grins a little and lifts his shoulders. "I like making people happy, sure."
"Sometimes not everyone appreciates what I have to say. But I guess that's just too bad for them, hmm?" Nenita says as the spoon hits her lips again. She's through that little bowl quickly, but then again, she does have something of a bottomless stomach. You know, one of those redeemable qualities. "Too bad T'mic doesn't have a better head for it, then you'd have someone to worry about your books while all you had to do was worry about the cooking and such."
"They're missing out on some serious wisdom, definitely," P'draig teases and pops the last of that first strawberry into his mouth. And the bottomless stomach is probably something a fellow cook can probably appreciate. He almost chokes though on that mouthful of fruit, manages not to either splutter all over or really choke. "T'mic ... uh, yeah, no. He can barely keep what day it is straight half the time. Palia says she wants to learn how to do it. Made a deal with Avrion or something," the brownrider says, faintly bemused as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, reaches for another berry. "He's got the front of the house pretty well in hand though, most nights. He's good at that. You know, making everyone feel comfortable." A little pause follows while he eats a bit more. "Raveki's been helping - looking at the ledgers, making sure I'm not sinking into a hopeless hole of debt. And Murron offered to do the books, maybe regularly, but I can't afford her fee yet unless we trade cooking lessons for bookkeeping."
"Palia? She's a little young, isn't she? Are you going to have her stand on a box while she meets people so she can make eye contact?" The first part is serious, but the rest is said in jest. Mostly jest. She grins cheekily at him as she finishes off the rest of the soupy sorbert. "I... have met Avrion before, Raveki I've had glimpses of. Not a clue on who Murron could be. You certainly get around, with the meeting people thing. Do you make it a point ot meet one new person every day?" She asks, still that teasing in her voice. Just then she uses her spoon to tap on the counter. "Hopefully I can get Bailey to sell her boat."
"Yeah, she is, but she's bound and determined to take over the place when she grows up," P'draig says with a low chuckle for the jest. "I run a restaurant," P'draig points out. "Meeting people kind of goes with the territory. Murron's some kind of scribe person, I think," he adds, brows knitting together to recall exactly what the woman said her job was. "Anyway, if I make a point of it or not, I meet at least one new person a day if not more," the brownrider admits, leans to bump his shoulder towards Nenita's, kidding around a little, then blinks. "Sell her boat?"
"It's a good ten years before that happens, right? A good decade before I have to deal with Palia in charge of the Beach House and you crying that you want to retire? Note, you're never allowed to retire." Nenita gives that counter another tap before she reaches for a different plate of dessert. Switching spoon for fork this time and following up his shoulder bump with one of her own. "Sell her boat. I want to sort of recreate Javeri's Layabout situation, but with the weyr has the only other partner. She's an experienced captain and people seem to like her. There's just the whole... having a baby thing. But I guess that's what the nursery is for."
"Probably more than that," P'draig says with a laugh as shoulders connect. "Especially if she actually wants to try to apprentice, get her journeyman's knot and all that," the brownrider adds and dips a fresh strawberry into the cream while Nenita helps herself to the next dessert, either cobbler or cake based on the fork decision. "Ohhhhh. Well, yeah. It wasn't a bad idea, the cruise boat. And Bailey doesn't seem the type to let one grounding get her down." His feet swing back and forth a little as if he were only 6 instead of 36. "Mm. Plenty of helping hands at the Weyr."
"Oh, very true. Will the craft let her do her training at the restaurant? Or will they ship her someplace else for a less biased teacher? I don't know if I would consider you objective in a situation like that." Nenita wiggles a finger at him. Cobbler it is. "It's true. I think Bailey's got some fighting spirit in her." Realizing what the sounds like she amends, "Not that Javeri didn't have fight. I think she was just more easily discouraged. I have a feeling you'd have to do something pretty bad to keep Bailey from, you know, getting up and punching you back." She turns the fork into the dessert now in her hand, "She wants to be able to buy the weyr out of the boat at some point. I'm not sure exactly how to work that yet."
"She can get her start with me like I did with my grandmothers, but then it'd probably be a good idea for her to train with someone else," P'draig offers over his opinion about baker training. "And no, I couldn't be objective, though I'd try to be fair, for sure." He laughs though at the remark about Bailey. "Yeah. She's got spunk and a stubborn spirit, Bailey does. She was a good waitress too!" Layers of peaches lie beneath a flaky crust with the added twist of blueberries to provide contrasting flavor. "Yeah? Huh. Well that's probably smart of her. Maybe a payment plan if it reaches a certain level of profit?" He considers for a moment, then clears his throat. "Speaking of buying out the Weyr ... what do you think about a similar kind of plan for the Beach House?"
"Very fair, I'm sure." Nenita tells him, her tone indulgent before she slips the fork in between her lips to smile closed mouthed at him. "I don't think you're going to be getting her back as a waitress, not if I can help it anyway. She has other things on her plate though..." Her mouth twists and then she gives her shoulders a shrug, giving him a look when he clears his throat. "A similar kind of plan for the Beach House? You guys are killing me. Let me pull up the contracts we have for the Seven, I'll look them over. I'll see if I can't figure out some sort of transition to a plan that's similar to theirs."
"It'll make it a bit easier to balance the profit margin," P'draig explains, see he's been paying attention. "If I own the land the place is sitting on outright," he continues. "I'll still pay over a percentage to the Weyr though. I mean ... this was always about bringing people here, supporting the Weyr in a slightly different way." Paddy grins a little, then reaches over to aim a dab of cream at Nenita's nose. "And that's the last bit of business I'll bring up. You're supposed to be escaping and being silly, remember?"
The fork is tapped against her lips now. "I wish I was better at this sort of thing. But I guess that's why we have Loe, to figure out the little things. Let me get those plans though, I'll try to see if I can draw something up. It'll be on my list." She makes like she's adding to an imaginary note in the air. Her nose instantly wrinkles when the cream comes to it. "I know you didn't just do that." Sounding serious as she leans over and slips her finger into the remnants of her sorbet. There's an aim to leave some on his cheek.
"Okay," P'draig says simply about the plans and contracts and just /grins/ at the goldrider. "Nope, not at all," he says with mock-innocence that ends in laughter as his cheek gets painted berry-bright with melted sorbet. "If our mothers were here, they'd be yelling about not playing with our food." But the next dab of cream is angling for her forehead.
Nenita can't just work on a tit for tat level. It's unfortunate really. Because if she were a normal person she'd laugh and just attack him with another finger full of sorbet. But no, no. She has to put four fingers and one thumb onto the plate and reaching over to lay one sticky hand onto his neck and jaw. "If my foster mother was here she'd beat us both with a spatula."
Palm print! Escalation! "Good thing they're not here then," P'draig says oh-so solemnly and promptly plants a handful of cream against the side of her face, grin fighting to stay hidden. He really doesn't have a good poker face. "Has anyone ever told you that cream is totally your color?" he teases brightly, eyes dancing with mischief.
"Excellent thing." Nenita laughs and makes a squealing noise when his hand comes to her face. She reaches down and flings the rest of the cobbler at him, jumping down from the counter and making a mad dash to get out of the kitchen. Hopefully before he can recover from his shock and throw a kitchen sink or an entire drawer of lettuce at her. "No, not yet. First time for everything!"
Laughter starts and is interrupted by cobbler to the gut. "Damn. Guess the blueberries didn't taste good," P'draig declares and hops off the counter a few steps behind Nenita to chase after her. "Well it's the fashion statement of the season, wearing your food to the party!" He's got longer legs, she's shorter and more maneuverable and there's a clear path out of the kitchen through the restaurant side of the porch and out to the beach. The other exit into the cothold is barred by a swinging door.
Nenita goes for the path of least resistance and hangs it right out the door, through the restaurant and towards the side porch. She circumvents going down to the steps to the beach and instead tries to fling herself over the railing and into the sand. Remember that part about being manuverable? Maybe not as much as one would think. Crash. "Ow, ow." Is intermingled with laughter as she tries to get herself to her feet. "Ow, ow. I need to get in better shape, ow, ow." When he arrives to the scene she'll be rubbing her ankle vigorously.
Paddy, on the other hand, is actually in very good shape and used to hopping over these railings. Which he does. Easily. And lands nearby, comes over with a shaking head and hunkers down next to the goldrider. "Come run with me at the crack of dawn," he says jovially, winks at her, then reaches over toward her ankle, checking to make sure it's not broken. "You okay though?" Blue-gray eyes lift to her face, scanning her features.
"I guess I'm okay. I kind of twisted it when I landed in the sand. I'm sure it's fine though. Ow." Nenita winces and sits down in the sand, pulling her leg up to get a better look at it. It's kind of swollen, but not what someone would call a broken looking ankle. Plus if it was really that bad she'd probably be sobbing rather than just going 'ow ow ow ow' here and there. "I should probably just rest it for the night or something."
"Definitely. Let's get some ice on it," P'draig says pragmatically after testing out that swollen area with gentle fingers, straightens a little. "C'mon, I'll carry you back in, put an ice pack on and feed you the rest of your desserts as penitence?" he suggests with a grin. "And yeah staying off of it would be a good idea."
She makes a face when he pokes at her swollen parts (ah ha ha ha ha). Nenita lifts one arm up so that she can loop it around his neck and be properly carried back inside. "Maybe I'll just crash on your couch or something tonight. In the morning if it's still swollen I'll go to the healers. Possibly." Which means unless someone tracks her down and checks she's going to limp on home at the crack of dawn. "You should probably sing to me while you're feeding me. And dance and juggle. You know, if we're going to make sure the penitence is fully paid and all." There's a smirk and she'll allow any and all carrying to occur without too much struggle.
P'draig swings the goldrider up into his arms easily to carry her back into the kitchen. "Don't have to crash on the couch," the brownrider says quietly. "There's plenty of room in the bed and I can keep my hands to myself," he claims, "or sleep on the hammock out on the back porch." He laughs though at the suggested entertainments. "Singing I can do, a little dancing too, not sure about juggling, could just lead to broken crockery. But whatever you see fit to lay on me for penitence, I'll pay up," Paddy concludes with a smile as they reach the kitchen.
"If you put your hands anywhere I'll just whimper about my ankle, I get the feeling that's a real mood killer if you know what I mean." Nenita tightens her arms around his neck, making sure that even if he happens to drop her, she'll take him down with her when she falls. She laughs as they enter the kitchen, her spirits high for the remainder of the evening, even if her ankle is getting gradually more swollen. And when they go to bed she'll likely relent and sleep in with him (rather than force him out onto his own porch), a respectable distance apart aside from some relatively innocent cuddling.