Log: Baby Daddy
Who: Hattie, P'draig
When: 15:39 of day 20, month 5, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Where: Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
What: Paddy comes by to help Hattie get some sleep by watching over Gethin for a few hours. A tentative paternity agreement is reached after discussion of various possible complications.
Hattie's Burnished Fretwork Weyr
Leading in someway from the ledge, Elaruth's wallow is sunk into a steep curve round to the right. Most of the surfaces in this part of the cavern are smooth, including that of the wallow, rock warn down to a polished sheen beneath blankets. Shelves line the opposite wall, along with hooks affixed to hold straps and various riding gear. Towards the back of the room sits a tall tree anchored by smooth rocks and constructed from various pieces of driftwood, ornaments in silver, white and blue hanging from its branches.
Beyond the narrow entrance to Hattie's weyr, the tip-tilted oblong cavern is spacious and well-appointed, walls washed with a pale wheat colour. Glow-baskets hang from the the corners of dark-varnished fretwork screens that seal off opposite corners of the room into an office and sleeping area. In the space between, green-grey couches have been arranged to create a meeting area, the table and chairs beyond sat opposite the sideboard, with only a few steps between couches and table. Behind one set of screens sits a large bed made up with lavender sheets, blues and greens of its quilt matching the rectangular rugs on the floor. At its foot, a bookcase in the same shade as the screens is home to a great number of storybooks and hides. The wide hearth lies opposite, a low, light pink couch set before it. Along the far wall, a bright blue curtain hides the bathing chamber and its oval-shaped pool.
Afternoon has started its slow crawl towards evening, and, having made it through the day without falling asleep in a little heap somewhere, Hattie has only recently made it home to her weyr with Elaruth in tow, the queen curling up in her wallow as her rider sets about kicking off boots and padding through to her weyr. It's all quiet for now, only the crackle of the hearth that the weyrwoman tries to coax back to life to break the silence in the dimly-lit chamber.
Afternoon at Fort, means it's evening already at Ista and after he's gotten his passel of older kids to bed, P'draig heads through Between to the Weyr where Jekzith was hatched to come check in on Hattie and Gethin. Jekzith's translucent bubble floats toward Elaruth to announce them both along with bright words of greeting: << Hello Elaruth! P'draig and I are coming to visit. May I come land on your ledge? >>
Least of all her worries at the moment is standing on ceremony, which might explain Elaruth's quiet, << Of course. You may step inside, if you like, >> in response to Jekzith's greeting and enquiry, the little queen's attention still fixed mostly on her rider even as she replies. At the hearth, Hattie glances over one shoulder towards the outer chamber, evidently aware of non-verbal exchanges for once, abandons the fire and paces slowly across the room to settle her son in his cot, shawl left folded at one end of the wooden structure.
<< Thanks! >> is Jekzith's happy answer and a moment later the rush of wings and the slight scrape of talons on stone announces his landing. The thump of booted feet follows as his rider dismounts and it doesn't take long for P'draig to appear in the entryway to the weyr. "Hi," he say simply with a smile for Hattie, a dragon's saddlebag held in his arms, bulging slightly at the sides. Jekzith pads into the weyr and snakes his head around to extend his nose Elaruth's way. << Hey there, beautiful. >>
Elaruth lifts her head from her paws to touch her nose to Jekzith's, but otherwise remains all curled up, wings tucked close. << Good afternoon, >> she answers softly. << You are well? >> Meanwhile, Hattie lingers by Gethin's cot a moment or two more, but when no waking or bawling occurs, she steps away and turns a faint, weary smile to P'draig in greeting. "He's asleep," she says softly, straying further so that she might raise her voice a little more.
<< I am, yes. There's been good flying lately, >> Jekzith explains and streeetches out, then pads around in a circle a couple of times before curling up alongside Elaruth's wallow. << How are you and your rider doing? P'draig is happy to be able to come over. >> Said rider crosses the threshold, moves to the couch to set his burden down, then steps closer to Hattie to meet her halfway, arms opening in the offer of a hug as he spots the weariness in her eyes. "Yeah, they do that a lot," Paddy jokes a little, voice held low. "When they're not peeing in your eye."
<< Good, >> Elaruth replies, keeping her head tipped up against the side of her wallow so that she might be more companionable that way. << She is... better. I do not believe she is entirely well, but she is a lot better. So I am a lot better, >> she goes on, content to some degree. "I knew this wasn't a glamorous job, but then you come along and make it sound even worse than expected," Hattie murmurs, perhaps just too tired to do much more than wander right into open arms. "Can't be any worse than a dragon," she remarks.
<< I'm glad she's better. P'draig was worried. >> Jekzith's chin rests atop paws and he looks up at Elaruth thoughtfully. << He's very happy she's all right and the little one too. >> Chuckling softly, P'draig's arms close around Hattie and his hands rub at her back. "And here I was trying to make you laugh," he confesses. "Dragons have bigger poop. Babies can't talk and tell you what's wrong. They also won't break your foot by accident galloping around. So I think in the end it might balance out." His head bends, lips brushing at her temple. "Do you need a solid night's sleep?" he asks next, voice low.
<< She did not mean to worry him. I don't think she meant for any of it, but then I doubt she could have prevented it. >> Elaruth goes quiet for a second, thoughtful. << Some of it, at least, >> she amends. Arms lift and loop around P'draig in return, Hattie managing a single snort of quiet laughter. "I'm on a time delay," she jokes dryly. "Probably," she admits. "I still feel as though I could quite happily sleep for a seven, wake up to do a day's paperwork and then go back to bed for the seven after that." She shakes her head. "It's not all him; he doesn't bawl continuously."
<< Oh he knows that. He just ... cares. Very much. He would be very sad if anything happened to them. >> P'draig grins, tilts his head downward to rest atop hers. "Mmmmm, I remember that feeling, kind of like cotton in your head. Or being underwater," the brownrider recalls. "And yeah. If you need it, I'll gladly tuck you in and stay on baby watch, so you can get some rest. Unless he's hungry of course. Sadly, I'm underequipped for that," Paddy quips further. "I did bring you some presents, for both of you, though that can wait of course."
It's perhaps not entirely Elaruth's fault that she doesn't have adequate words for Jekzith, so she simply stretches to touch her nose to him again and shifts to settle down pressed along the side of her wallow, friendly-close. "I'm okay for now. Besides, I'm sure you're probably more deserving of sleep than I am, in the grand scheme of things," Hattie responds, closing her eyes. "But yes, I imagine that you'd have a problem if he was hungry," she says, lips twitching into a faint smile. Mention of presents has her tensing, though she doesn't move away. "...What... are we saying now?" the weyrwoman asks slowly. "About him." Not particularly eloquent, and, "You know," can't do much about that.
The brown lifts his head enough to meet that nose-touch, apparently quite content to share friendly-space. "I am?" P'draig queries with a comical note of skepticism in his voice. "I'm getting a solid five or six hours a night at least," the brownrider answers. "So if you do need the break, I'm happy to help out with one." Paddy's hand lifts, brushes gently down the back of Hattie's head over her hair. "Some nice things to eat, a teething ring that used to be Dharia's for when he starts sprouting them and a carrying pouch to help make it easier to bring him around with you. I used it a lot when Palia was little, because I had a clutch to train, but she slept best curled up against my chest," P'draig explains queitly then lets out his breath slowly. "We're saying whatever you feel comfortable saying, Hattie. But the offer I made before still stands."
"I mean you're probably working harder than I am right now," Hattie attempts to explain. "I still have medical grounds to sleep during the day." She retreats to silence for a while, fingers of one hand curling and uncurling. "Thank you," she answers eventually, quietly. "I've been tying knots in blankets and tying him to me that way so far. It's perhaps not been the wisest of plans, but..." Silence again, though her fingers uncurl one final time and she settles her hand flat against the brownrider's back. "...I've just wondered... If he had lived and I had died, what would have happened to him. And then I wonder what if I can never tell whose he is. I don't think I'm going to get over that. I don't know what to do."
"And you just had a baby and earned yourself a lifetime's full-time job," P'draig answers quietly. "It's not a competition though," he continues with a shake of his head and then smiles. "Whatever works is probably the best advice my mother ever gave me about taking care of babies. But I think you might find it easier dealing with something that has clips to fasten very securely." He falls silent as Hattie goes on and lifts a hand to stroke at her hair again gently. "I probably would've lied through my teeth and said he was definitely mine and brought him back to Ista when he could travel. Given him a home with my horde," Paddy says with a touch of wry humor, then nods. "We got lucky with Jaivery, Vrys and me. It was pretty obvious. But it's possible we could've never been able to tell and then T'rev and me would've been splitting responsibility, which we kind of did anyway."
"G'dreyn would probably have blabbed and let my family know, so you might have had to fight my eldest sister for him," Hattie replies in a dry voice. "Thankfully, he's not said anything yet. To the best of my knowledge." She takes a breath and shakes her head a little. "He'll have a foster mother by the end of next month. Gethin. I don't... really have a choice. It's a little selfish to keep him for myself even that long." Leaning back a touch, she looks up at P'draig, saying, "It's not fair to you to say he is yours when he might not be. And there are potentially politics involved too. But it's not fair to remain in a state of limbo either."
"Ahh, good to know. I'd rather have worked out something amicably in that case, rather than fightin," P'draig says with a faint grin then his brows lift and he exhales. "Still haven't ... told the family yet?" His face creases with sympathy though as she goes on. "Don't you, Hattie? Or is it just that you can't let yourself accept help for a little while? Not that I'm saying you shouldn't have a fosterer because it is kind of necessary, but you don't have to give him up entirely. You have a ground weyr, you could do what I did with Miara. Perks of having a bit of rank," he adds, a touch wry. "I paid her to live in, basically, so I had as much time as possible with Palia when she was little." He falls silent though, looking down into Hattie's face as he processes that last bit. "Does fair really matter all that much? I'm willing to face the consequences, Hattie."
"No. By the time I turn up with him, they probably won't believe he's mine," Hattie says, not without humour, though there's a trace of a hysterical edge to it. "And no, I really don't have a choice. I'm not... I did enough damage lying and not asking for help; I'm not about to do it again. I have too much to do. Chances are, Elaruth will rise in the next few months and my focus will be on her. He'll need to be settled. I'm not saying that I won't ever see him, but it just... needs to be done." She exhales slowly and closes her eyes again. "Before I can't do it." Biting down on her lip for a moment, she forces out, "Fair matters when I'm the one who had the kid; I'm the one who fucked up and I'm the one wondering what will Cirse think; what will Nenita think; what will my clutchbrother think... And then what will Gethin think if I saddle him with what I don't know."
"As if anyone wouldn't," P'draig says gently, with a matching trace of humor. "I mean that you have a choice about how much you have to do. Because, like you just said, you can ask for help. It's just what you ask for help /with/," he continues. "You could ask for help with some of the work instead. Though of course, Elaruth isn't something you can pass off to anyone else. I just -- hm. I managed. With an entire clutch of Weyrlings to train and you know how busy that is in those early months. But I hear you. If you need to have him settled, you need to have him settled." He sighs softly though and looks down, gaze focused on her shoulder rather than her face. "I don't know Cirse well enough to lay odds there. Nenny ... might slap me." Brows lift though: "Clutchbrother?" A pause. "As for Gethin, I guess I don't see it as saddling. But there's shades of gray here. I can just be around because I'm you're friend and I care about you and I'm crazy about kids. Be uncle, more than father."
A definite line is drawn with, "I can't ask for help with the work. I won't. I won't go back to how I was with it before, because, shells, if it weren't for Isandre I probably wouldn't even be here." Hattie hesitates and looks away. "So... there will be time. It's just a matter of working with it. Not working with it. You know." She lifts one shoulder slowly; not quite a shrug. "Cirse might think I've been foolish to keep secrets. Or that I've behaved entirely improperly. Or that it coloured my view of Ista more than the fact that Nenita is my friend. Nenita... well, I hope she wouldn't slap /me/." A smirk and the weyrwoman teases, "You're on your own there." Blink. "My clutchbrother... Istans are far from his favourite people. That's an understatement." She pushes all that aside for a while and almost mirrors P'draig by staring at his shoulder for a long time. "If... you want to be Gethin's father, then you can be. And if I ever - if it can even happen now - wind up pregnant again... I hope I don't put you through this again."
"You'll figure out a balance for yourself and for him," P'draig says of work and nods. "Yeah. Setting boundaries. Managing time," the brownrider continues in a lighter tone. His smile is faint and pulls at one corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Nenita's very ... well she's Istan through and through. We've been friends for a long time. But I think she'd probably see this as a betrayal of some kind on my part," Paddy says quietly. Hattie says 'Istans' and it draws a grimace. "I'm not Istan. I ride at Ista," he makes a distinction. "I guess for some people though, all they see is a knot and assume. But shells. I was born and raised at the Reaches. I impressed at Fort. I trained every weyrling class here for eleven turns before I moved. I still haven't lived /at/ Ista for as long as I've lived anywhere else. That's just ... something I don't get. I really don't." His shoulders tighten with some hidden frustration then roll and release. Gently fingers curve beneath Hattie's chin and he seeks to meet her gaze. "I'm already attached. He's one cute little baby, even if they all look a little froggy when they're that little." As for her last, his brow wrinkles faintly, first with a touch of concern in his eyes then he smiles at her, shrugs his shoulders slightly. "It's not like I'm not used to it by now," he attempts the joke.
Mention of betrayal has Hattie tensing up again and she starts to say, "Then don't-- I don't want that for you. See, I /told/ you there were far too many other things involved..." She unwinds an arm from around P'draig and presses fingers to the bridge of her nose. "I know that. And you know that. But you're right - some people see the knot and assume. That's how it'll probably be here. The knot is what people see. Neither of us... really get a say in that. Unless we're out to change society and that'd be quite a task." Her hand falls away when fingers curl beneath her chin and she slowly looks up to meet the brownrider's gaze, maybe meaning to say more than a simple, "Okay." And it's probably not, "But if you call him froggy again, I might have to hurt you." Smiling very faintly, she shakes her head a little. "Let's not go for round three or four or five or anything, huh? Definite parentage only," she answers wryly. She has to smother a yawn in the moments following, confessing, "Okay, I think I might keel over on you if I don't crawl into bed. You're sure you don't mind watching him?"
P'draig shakes his head at that pushback. "Not because of Ista and Fort," he struggles a little and then sighs. "Because of our ... personal history, hers and mine," Paddy adds and looks for a moment, uncomfortable. "But like I said, I'm willing to accept the consequences. Because when you get down to it, it's when thing are tough that you find out who's a real friend and who isn't." He finds another smile for Hattie, hand curving more properly to her cheek. "I wouldn't dare," Paddy replies with light humor about frogginess, then nods. "Mm. It's a lot easier when there's no question," he has to agree. She yawns, his hand leaves her cheek because he bends to scoop her up into his arms. "I am absolutely sure that I don't mind and that I want to make sure you get some solid sleep. So. This is me, tucking you into bed. I'll bring him in to you if he wakes up hungry, which I'm guessing he probably will sometime inconveniently late or early depending on how you look at it. Otherwise, I've got you covered. I don't have sweeps in the morning and the restaurant doesn't open until just before noon. So we're all good for sleep."
Of course, it seems that Hattie might argue, yet she gets no further than features twisting into clear concern, her gaze troubled, before she gives in to the fact that her feet are leaving the ground and she's being held in arms. It appears that her confession is pretty accurate too, for her eyes close almost as soon as she's gone with the motion and she only manages a sleepy hum of an affirmative and murmured thanks; may well be actually asleep before her bed is reached.
There's no further comment from P'draig on Ista's Weyrwoman and he only smiles when he reaches the bed and finds Hattie sacked out. The brownrider sets her down gently, draws back the covers and tucks her in, stands there for a moment looking down at her then turns back to the other room where he kicks off his boots, unpacks the bag of gifts: food items properly stored, teething ring set on the table so Hattie can find it easily and figure out where she wants to keep it, carrier left hanging off the back of a chair. Then he goes to stand at the edge of that cot and looks down at the baby sleeping, a fond smile growing on his face. Yep, he's a goner all right. When Gethin wakes sometime later, the messy nappy is dealt with with the sure motions of long-time practice and comfort provided by tucking him up against Paddy's chest. Hattie ought to be able to get in a few hours of sleep at least, before he gets hungry and a few more before Paddy has to wake her to head back to Ista and the Beach House.
When: 15:39 of day 20, month 5, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Where: Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
What: Paddy comes by to help Hattie get some sleep by watching over Gethin for a few hours. A tentative paternity agreement is reached after discussion of various possible complications.
Hattie's Burnished Fretwork Weyr
Leading in someway from the ledge, Elaruth's wallow is sunk into a steep curve round to the right. Most of the surfaces in this part of the cavern are smooth, including that of the wallow, rock warn down to a polished sheen beneath blankets. Shelves line the opposite wall, along with hooks affixed to hold straps and various riding gear. Towards the back of the room sits a tall tree anchored by smooth rocks and constructed from various pieces of driftwood, ornaments in silver, white and blue hanging from its branches.
Beyond the narrow entrance to Hattie's weyr, the tip-tilted oblong cavern is spacious and well-appointed, walls washed with a pale wheat colour. Glow-baskets hang from the the corners of dark-varnished fretwork screens that seal off opposite corners of the room into an office and sleeping area. In the space between, green-grey couches have been arranged to create a meeting area, the table and chairs beyond sat opposite the sideboard, with only a few steps between couches and table. Behind one set of screens sits a large bed made up with lavender sheets, blues and greens of its quilt matching the rectangular rugs on the floor. At its foot, a bookcase in the same shade as the screens is home to a great number of storybooks and hides. The wide hearth lies opposite, a low, light pink couch set before it. Along the far wall, a bright blue curtain hides the bathing chamber and its oval-shaped pool.
Afternoon has started its slow crawl towards evening, and, having made it through the day without falling asleep in a little heap somewhere, Hattie has only recently made it home to her weyr with Elaruth in tow, the queen curling up in her wallow as her rider sets about kicking off boots and padding through to her weyr. It's all quiet for now, only the crackle of the hearth that the weyrwoman tries to coax back to life to break the silence in the dimly-lit chamber.
Afternoon at Fort, means it's evening already at Ista and after he's gotten his passel of older kids to bed, P'draig heads through Between to the Weyr where Jekzith was hatched to come check in on Hattie and Gethin. Jekzith's translucent bubble floats toward Elaruth to announce them both along with bright words of greeting: << Hello Elaruth! P'draig and I are coming to visit. May I come land on your ledge? >>
Least of all her worries at the moment is standing on ceremony, which might explain Elaruth's quiet, << Of course. You may step inside, if you like, >> in response to Jekzith's greeting and enquiry, the little queen's attention still fixed mostly on her rider even as she replies. At the hearth, Hattie glances over one shoulder towards the outer chamber, evidently aware of non-verbal exchanges for once, abandons the fire and paces slowly across the room to settle her son in his cot, shawl left folded at one end of the wooden structure.
<< Thanks! >> is Jekzith's happy answer and a moment later the rush of wings and the slight scrape of talons on stone announces his landing. The thump of booted feet follows as his rider dismounts and it doesn't take long for P'draig to appear in the entryway to the weyr. "Hi," he say simply with a smile for Hattie, a dragon's saddlebag held in his arms, bulging slightly at the sides. Jekzith pads into the weyr and snakes his head around to extend his nose Elaruth's way. << Hey there, beautiful. >>
Elaruth lifts her head from her paws to touch her nose to Jekzith's, but otherwise remains all curled up, wings tucked close. << Good afternoon, >> she answers softly. << You are well? >> Meanwhile, Hattie lingers by Gethin's cot a moment or two more, but when no waking or bawling occurs, she steps away and turns a faint, weary smile to P'draig in greeting. "He's asleep," she says softly, straying further so that she might raise her voice a little more.
<< I am, yes. There's been good flying lately, >> Jekzith explains and streeetches out, then pads around in a circle a couple of times before curling up alongside Elaruth's wallow. << How are you and your rider doing? P'draig is happy to be able to come over. >> Said rider crosses the threshold, moves to the couch to set his burden down, then steps closer to Hattie to meet her halfway, arms opening in the offer of a hug as he spots the weariness in her eyes. "Yeah, they do that a lot," Paddy jokes a little, voice held low. "When they're not peeing in your eye."
<< Good, >> Elaruth replies, keeping her head tipped up against the side of her wallow so that she might be more companionable that way. << She is... better. I do not believe she is entirely well, but she is a lot better. So I am a lot better, >> she goes on, content to some degree. "I knew this wasn't a glamorous job, but then you come along and make it sound even worse than expected," Hattie murmurs, perhaps just too tired to do much more than wander right into open arms. "Can't be any worse than a dragon," she remarks.
<< I'm glad she's better. P'draig was worried. >> Jekzith's chin rests atop paws and he looks up at Elaruth thoughtfully. << He's very happy she's all right and the little one too. >> Chuckling softly, P'draig's arms close around Hattie and his hands rub at her back. "And here I was trying to make you laugh," he confesses. "Dragons have bigger poop. Babies can't talk and tell you what's wrong. They also won't break your foot by accident galloping around. So I think in the end it might balance out." His head bends, lips brushing at her temple. "Do you need a solid night's sleep?" he asks next, voice low.
<< She did not mean to worry him. I don't think she meant for any of it, but then I doubt she could have prevented it. >> Elaruth goes quiet for a second, thoughtful. << Some of it, at least, >> she amends. Arms lift and loop around P'draig in return, Hattie managing a single snort of quiet laughter. "I'm on a time delay," she jokes dryly. "Probably," she admits. "I still feel as though I could quite happily sleep for a seven, wake up to do a day's paperwork and then go back to bed for the seven after that." She shakes her head. "It's not all him; he doesn't bawl continuously."
<< Oh he knows that. He just ... cares. Very much. He would be very sad if anything happened to them. >> P'draig grins, tilts his head downward to rest atop hers. "Mmmmm, I remember that feeling, kind of like cotton in your head. Or being underwater," the brownrider recalls. "And yeah. If you need it, I'll gladly tuck you in and stay on baby watch, so you can get some rest. Unless he's hungry of course. Sadly, I'm underequipped for that," Paddy quips further. "I did bring you some presents, for both of you, though that can wait of course."
It's perhaps not entirely Elaruth's fault that she doesn't have adequate words for Jekzith, so she simply stretches to touch her nose to him again and shifts to settle down pressed along the side of her wallow, friendly-close. "I'm okay for now. Besides, I'm sure you're probably more deserving of sleep than I am, in the grand scheme of things," Hattie responds, closing her eyes. "But yes, I imagine that you'd have a problem if he was hungry," she says, lips twitching into a faint smile. Mention of presents has her tensing, though she doesn't move away. "...What... are we saying now?" the weyrwoman asks slowly. "About him." Not particularly eloquent, and, "You know," can't do much about that.
The brown lifts his head enough to meet that nose-touch, apparently quite content to share friendly-space. "I am?" P'draig queries with a comical note of skepticism in his voice. "I'm getting a solid five or six hours a night at least," the brownrider answers. "So if you do need the break, I'm happy to help out with one." Paddy's hand lifts, brushes gently down the back of Hattie's head over her hair. "Some nice things to eat, a teething ring that used to be Dharia's for when he starts sprouting them and a carrying pouch to help make it easier to bring him around with you. I used it a lot when Palia was little, because I had a clutch to train, but she slept best curled up against my chest," P'draig explains queitly then lets out his breath slowly. "We're saying whatever you feel comfortable saying, Hattie. But the offer I made before still stands."
"I mean you're probably working harder than I am right now," Hattie attempts to explain. "I still have medical grounds to sleep during the day." She retreats to silence for a while, fingers of one hand curling and uncurling. "Thank you," she answers eventually, quietly. "I've been tying knots in blankets and tying him to me that way so far. It's perhaps not been the wisest of plans, but..." Silence again, though her fingers uncurl one final time and she settles her hand flat against the brownrider's back. "...I've just wondered... If he had lived and I had died, what would have happened to him. And then I wonder what if I can never tell whose he is. I don't think I'm going to get over that. I don't know what to do."
"And you just had a baby and earned yourself a lifetime's full-time job," P'draig answers quietly. "It's not a competition though," he continues with a shake of his head and then smiles. "Whatever works is probably the best advice my mother ever gave me about taking care of babies. But I think you might find it easier dealing with something that has clips to fasten very securely." He falls silent as Hattie goes on and lifts a hand to stroke at her hair again gently. "I probably would've lied through my teeth and said he was definitely mine and brought him back to Ista when he could travel. Given him a home with my horde," Paddy says with a touch of wry humor, then nods. "We got lucky with Jaivery, Vrys and me. It was pretty obvious. But it's possible we could've never been able to tell and then T'rev and me would've been splitting responsibility, which we kind of did anyway."
"G'dreyn would probably have blabbed and let my family know, so you might have had to fight my eldest sister for him," Hattie replies in a dry voice. "Thankfully, he's not said anything yet. To the best of my knowledge." She takes a breath and shakes her head a little. "He'll have a foster mother by the end of next month. Gethin. I don't... really have a choice. It's a little selfish to keep him for myself even that long." Leaning back a touch, she looks up at P'draig, saying, "It's not fair to you to say he is yours when he might not be. And there are potentially politics involved too. But it's not fair to remain in a state of limbo either."
"Ahh, good to know. I'd rather have worked out something amicably in that case, rather than fightin," P'draig says with a faint grin then his brows lift and he exhales. "Still haven't ... told the family yet?" His face creases with sympathy though as she goes on. "Don't you, Hattie? Or is it just that you can't let yourself accept help for a little while? Not that I'm saying you shouldn't have a fosterer because it is kind of necessary, but you don't have to give him up entirely. You have a ground weyr, you could do what I did with Miara. Perks of having a bit of rank," he adds, a touch wry. "I paid her to live in, basically, so I had as much time as possible with Palia when she was little." He falls silent though, looking down into Hattie's face as he processes that last bit. "Does fair really matter all that much? I'm willing to face the consequences, Hattie."
"No. By the time I turn up with him, they probably won't believe he's mine," Hattie says, not without humour, though there's a trace of a hysterical edge to it. "And no, I really don't have a choice. I'm not... I did enough damage lying and not asking for help; I'm not about to do it again. I have too much to do. Chances are, Elaruth will rise in the next few months and my focus will be on her. He'll need to be settled. I'm not saying that I won't ever see him, but it just... needs to be done." She exhales slowly and closes her eyes again. "Before I can't do it." Biting down on her lip for a moment, she forces out, "Fair matters when I'm the one who had the kid; I'm the one who fucked up and I'm the one wondering what will Cirse think; what will Nenita think; what will my clutchbrother think... And then what will Gethin think if I saddle him with what I don't know."
"As if anyone wouldn't," P'draig says gently, with a matching trace of humor. "I mean that you have a choice about how much you have to do. Because, like you just said, you can ask for help. It's just what you ask for help /with/," he continues. "You could ask for help with some of the work instead. Though of course, Elaruth isn't something you can pass off to anyone else. I just -- hm. I managed. With an entire clutch of Weyrlings to train and you know how busy that is in those early months. But I hear you. If you need to have him settled, you need to have him settled." He sighs softly though and looks down, gaze focused on her shoulder rather than her face. "I don't know Cirse well enough to lay odds there. Nenny ... might slap me." Brows lift though: "Clutchbrother?" A pause. "As for Gethin, I guess I don't see it as saddling. But there's shades of gray here. I can just be around because I'm you're friend and I care about you and I'm crazy about kids. Be uncle, more than father."
A definite line is drawn with, "I can't ask for help with the work. I won't. I won't go back to how I was with it before, because, shells, if it weren't for Isandre I probably wouldn't even be here." Hattie hesitates and looks away. "So... there will be time. It's just a matter of working with it. Not working with it. You know." She lifts one shoulder slowly; not quite a shrug. "Cirse might think I've been foolish to keep secrets. Or that I've behaved entirely improperly. Or that it coloured my view of Ista more than the fact that Nenita is my friend. Nenita... well, I hope she wouldn't slap /me/." A smirk and the weyrwoman teases, "You're on your own there." Blink. "My clutchbrother... Istans are far from his favourite people. That's an understatement." She pushes all that aside for a while and almost mirrors P'draig by staring at his shoulder for a long time. "If... you want to be Gethin's father, then you can be. And if I ever - if it can even happen now - wind up pregnant again... I hope I don't put you through this again."
"You'll figure out a balance for yourself and for him," P'draig says of work and nods. "Yeah. Setting boundaries. Managing time," the brownrider continues in a lighter tone. His smile is faint and pulls at one corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Nenita's very ... well she's Istan through and through. We've been friends for a long time. But I think she'd probably see this as a betrayal of some kind on my part," Paddy says quietly. Hattie says 'Istans' and it draws a grimace. "I'm not Istan. I ride at Ista," he makes a distinction. "I guess for some people though, all they see is a knot and assume. But shells. I was born and raised at the Reaches. I impressed at Fort. I trained every weyrling class here for eleven turns before I moved. I still haven't lived /at/ Ista for as long as I've lived anywhere else. That's just ... something I don't get. I really don't." His shoulders tighten with some hidden frustration then roll and release. Gently fingers curve beneath Hattie's chin and he seeks to meet her gaze. "I'm already attached. He's one cute little baby, even if they all look a little froggy when they're that little." As for her last, his brow wrinkles faintly, first with a touch of concern in his eyes then he smiles at her, shrugs his shoulders slightly. "It's not like I'm not used to it by now," he attempts the joke.
Mention of betrayal has Hattie tensing up again and she starts to say, "Then don't-- I don't want that for you. See, I /told/ you there were far too many other things involved..." She unwinds an arm from around P'draig and presses fingers to the bridge of her nose. "I know that. And you know that. But you're right - some people see the knot and assume. That's how it'll probably be here. The knot is what people see. Neither of us... really get a say in that. Unless we're out to change society and that'd be quite a task." Her hand falls away when fingers curl beneath her chin and she slowly looks up to meet the brownrider's gaze, maybe meaning to say more than a simple, "Okay." And it's probably not, "But if you call him froggy again, I might have to hurt you." Smiling very faintly, she shakes her head a little. "Let's not go for round three or four or five or anything, huh? Definite parentage only," she answers wryly. She has to smother a yawn in the moments following, confessing, "Okay, I think I might keel over on you if I don't crawl into bed. You're sure you don't mind watching him?"
P'draig shakes his head at that pushback. "Not because of Ista and Fort," he struggles a little and then sighs. "Because of our ... personal history, hers and mine," Paddy adds and looks for a moment, uncomfortable. "But like I said, I'm willing to accept the consequences. Because when you get down to it, it's when thing are tough that you find out who's a real friend and who isn't." He finds another smile for Hattie, hand curving more properly to her cheek. "I wouldn't dare," Paddy replies with light humor about frogginess, then nods. "Mm. It's a lot easier when there's no question," he has to agree. She yawns, his hand leaves her cheek because he bends to scoop her up into his arms. "I am absolutely sure that I don't mind and that I want to make sure you get some solid sleep. So. This is me, tucking you into bed. I'll bring him in to you if he wakes up hungry, which I'm guessing he probably will sometime inconveniently late or early depending on how you look at it. Otherwise, I've got you covered. I don't have sweeps in the morning and the restaurant doesn't open until just before noon. So we're all good for sleep."
Of course, it seems that Hattie might argue, yet she gets no further than features twisting into clear concern, her gaze troubled, before she gives in to the fact that her feet are leaving the ground and she's being held in arms. It appears that her confession is pretty accurate too, for her eyes close almost as soon as she's gone with the motion and she only manages a sleepy hum of an affirmative and murmured thanks; may well be actually asleep before her bed is reached.
There's no further comment from P'draig on Ista's Weyrwoman and he only smiles when he reaches the bed and finds Hattie sacked out. The brownrider sets her down gently, draws back the covers and tucks her in, stands there for a moment looking down at her then turns back to the other room where he kicks off his boots, unpacks the bag of gifts: food items properly stored, teething ring set on the table so Hattie can find it easily and figure out where she wants to keep it, carrier left hanging off the back of a chair. Then he goes to stand at the edge of that cot and looks down at the baby sleeping, a fond smile growing on his face. Yep, he's a goner all right. When Gethin wakes sometime later, the messy nappy is dealt with with the sure motions of long-time practice and comfort provided by tucking him up against Paddy's chest. Hattie ought to be able to get in a few hours of sleep at least, before he gets hungry and a few more before Paddy has to wake her to head back to Ista and the Beach House.