Log: Unexpected
Who: Hattie, P'draig, Jekzith, Elaruth
When: Afternoon, day 3, month 9, turn 24 of the 10th interval
Where: Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
What: Paddy brings the kids over to Fort for a family visit, comes to wheedle Hattie out into the sunshine and gets more than expected for his trouble.
>---< Local Weather for FTW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 62 F Today's Lo/Hi: 57 F / 79 F
Belior: waxing crescent Timor: waxing gibbous
Weather: Clear
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clear and impossibly blue skies carry a hint of autumnal woodsmoke on the
breeze.
>--------------------------------------< 11:39 D3 M9 T24, autumn morning >---<
Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
As is befitting of Fort's Senior Weyrwoman, this weyr is spacious and comfortable, richly appointed with all that comes with rank and privilege. Elaruth's wallow is deep and wide, lined with soft, padded wherhide folded neatly and precisely anchored around its rim. Towards the back of the room and at the head of the wallow 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. Gleaming brass hooks affixed to the walls provide more than enough space for straps, jackets and so on, the walls never bare so far as equipment goes. Towards the sturdy door that leads to the Weyrwoman's private quarters, well-stocked bookcases stand guard, keeping the meticulously organized desk and arrangement of blue couch, mismatching chairs and low table company.
Beyond the door lies a large bed made up with lavender sheets, blues and greens of its quilt matching the rectangular rugs on the floor. At its foot, another bookcase is home to a great number of storybooks. The large hearth lies across the chamber, two couches arranged before it a little oddly to make a triangle from the angles. Two tall fretwork screens corner off a portion of the weyr into what's almost a room of its own, a child's cot, toys and a small cupboard to be found within. At the very back of the chamber, another screen hides the bathing room and its large pool.
Early autumn at Fort is lovely, while Ista still swelters with summer humidity which could be partly why P'draig's brought the family here today. Palia, Dharia and Dylan are down by the lake shore paddling in the lake and spending some time with Gethin. Until recently, Paddy was part of the fun and games, but he's stepped away to find Hattie, hair still damp from that last dunking, courtesy of his increasingly tall eldest. Jekzith announced them politely earlier of course, his greeting to Elaruth chipper and bright, but it's only now that the brownrider's footsteps sound on the steps leading up to the Weyrwoman's weyr. "Hattie?"
Not present on her ledge, Elaruth padded off across the bowl some time ago, still to be found at the deepest point of the lake, alternating between floating and making deliberate ripples across its surface. By the time P'draig's journey up the steps might have been completed, Hattie's leaning against the stone archway of the mouth to her weyr, looking as presentable as ever, though a glance into the weyr itself is enough to discover that her living quarters are another story entirely at the moment. "Who have we to blame for this?" she questions, smirking as she tips her head to nod at the state of the brownrider.
P'draig laughs merrily as he reaches the top of the stairs and runs a hand through slightly too-long hair. "Palia," he claims with a little lift of his shoulders. "She's turning into a fish, I swear, from all the swimming she does." Hands are held out though, smile warm. "Is a hug, even a damp one still allowable?" With Elaruth in the water, Jekzith splits his attention between minding that the littler kids don't stray too deeply and sending waves back toward the queen. Any excuse to play.
"Not literally, I hope," Hattie remarks, pushing away from the wall. "You'd have to watch that she didn't decide that the ocean was her home." She hesitates a step or two into approaching P'draig, pretending to put great thought into whether or not she'll permit the hug, but a slow smile builds through the act and she makes to wrap arms around him all the same. "I think it's allowable," she confirms against his shoulder. "Do you want a towel or something?"
"No, though it might as well be. The ocean, I mean. When she's not in lessons, reading a book or learning a bit of cooking from me, she's out surfing," P'draig explains. That hesitation brings a hint of uncertainty to the brownrider's expression which fades rapidly once Hattie's wrapped her arms around him, his close around her in turn and he squeezes gently. "Believe it or not, I did use one before I came over, but it might be a good idea for me not to drip all over. I was vaguely intending to try to entice you over to the lake with us unless you're busy?"
Drawing back, Hattie looks him over again and decides, "Yes, I think it'd be best for you not to leave a trail wherever you go." She glances back into her weyr and pulls a face, head tilting a little. "Ignore the..." Nope, there's no other word for it but, "Mess. Things are quite chaotic at the moment. I meant to clean up earlier, but I sat down on the couch and woke up about half an hour ago," she confesses ruefully, determined to hide embarrassment. "Come on," the Weyrwoman says, turning to head inside. "I'm not busy. I probably should be. Could be."
"Kind of understandable with twins around," P'draig says lightly. "If you need a hand ..." he trails off, gesturing towards the 'chaos' inside. "I don't mind at all. Palia's pretty good about helping to keep up after the little ones." A tilt of his head back in the direction of the lake. "Should. Could. Want?" he asks teasingly, a note of fondness in his voice.
"Want," the goldrider admits with fairly good humour, lips twitching. "But my junior needs the challenge and I need the time right now, to be perfectly honest. It seems to be working out relatively... okay." Clearly Hattie can't bring herself to say or doesn't believe it's worth 'well'. "And if I'm going to be dealing with all this for the foreseeable future, I think it's best I do it myself, thank you all the same. I don't suppose that reply is a surprise, huh?"
Wandering on, she carries on through the doorway, not troubled by the brownrider's presence.
"Mm. I've ah ... well I've met your junior." Pause. Throat-clearing. "Preita." One of Paddy's hands lifts to the back of his neck, rubs there as he follows Hattie further inward. "She's very friendly." That's the tactful way of putting it. He does laugh again though, nodding ruefully as he scans the scatter of items in the weyr. "No, not a surprise. I don't think I've ever been able to convince you to relax properly unless you've made up your mind to do so ahead of time." Pausing by the couch, he does however, pick up the throw that often lies there and folds it up. "Other than possible ah ... issues with your junior, how've you been?" Casual.
Hattie's steps stop abruptly; too abruptly for her to make carrying on with her journey across to the bathing room seem merely meandering. "Please tell me you haven't /met/ her," she sighs, grimace mostly hidden. "Not that it's really any of my business." She soon reappears from the aforementioned chamber with a blue towel in her arms and throws it across to P'draig without much warning other than, "Catch." Kicking something /under/ the couch with the back of her heel as she passes by it, she shrugs and finally pauses to answer the enquiry. "Elaruth is content. Brayden visits the girls when he can. Gethin is..." She nods the way of the ledge and the lake, letting that speak for itself and neatly avoids how she is, already asking, "You?"
P'draig's gaze settles on Hattie at that abrupt stop before she disappears into the bathing room, at which point his eyes drop to the all-important business of tidying up the edges of the folded blanket. "No," is the very simple answer to the Weyrwoman's question. "And I'd say it is your business, at least a little," the brownrider continues, looks up suddenly as she utters the word 'catch'. At least his reflexes seem to still be pretty good, arm lifting, hand intercepting the flung towel. P'draig brings it up to give his hair a good drubbing first. "So Elaruth is well, the girls' father is doing his best and our baby is growing into a sturdy, strapping little fellow," he re-summarizes and as Hattie passes, Paddy reaches for her hand. "I'm doing pretty well. Busy with the restaurant. The kids. Thinking about maybe expanding the business. You?" He flashes a little grin at the end of that: he noticed she didn't answer. Verbal tennis.
"Down some rather awkward pathways we could go if we went into the ways in which it could be my business," the Weyrwoman says with what's meant to sound like wryness more than anything. Hattie leans one hip against the couch, arms lifting to fold across her chest. "Hmm. Summarizing key points; quite the Harper, aren't you?" she jokes in a low voice. "I hear you say 'business' and not restaurant, so I assume it's new premises that you mean and not an extension?" the goldrider queries, tipping her head back to look up at P'draig. "I'm fine," she assures in calm tones. "I want to cry and drag someone to bed on alternate days, but don't let myself do either. At least this time I was expecting it," is quite blunt.
"We have a child together," P'draig states simply. "Which doesn't strike me as awkward and reason enough to be your business," the brownrider continues quietly. "After all, who I spend my time with and who our son might be around when I do is absolutely, your business," Paddy points out. "And I'll let Remi know that his harperly habits are rubbing off on me," he quips back and aims to draw her hand up to his lips, to kiss gently. "Yes. Possibly a new location. A friend put the idea in my head and I've been considering it." That last earns a crooked little grin. "A little easier then, the second time around? Even with two at once?"
"Yes, we do," Hattie confirms needlessly. "But from the outside looking in, caring about that sort of thing might look like I thought I had a claim on you when I don't," she states in quite a businesslike manner, shoulders lifting, though she doesn't draw her hand back or tense up. "Another restaurant at Ista? Or elsewhere? Spend some time hopping time zones," the goldrider says with a smile. Her shoulders flex again, not making it all the way to another proper shrug. "It was easier. I remember more of it, more's the pity in some ways. But they were girls and of course they'd never cause trouble like boys," she claims with easy humour.
"Or it could just look like concern for Gethin," P'draig suggests mildly and releases her hand after giving it a little squeeze so he can give the back of his neck another swipe with the towel before he sits down. He offers a palm up to the goldrider then, brows lifting. "Sit with me for a bit?" He takes a breath though to go on. "I'm not sure yet about location. Maybe another on the island, maybe across the water in Igen or Nerat. It depends on a lot of things including being able to either rent or buy a location." And then he starts laughing. "Right. Because you'd never ever cause trouble, uh huh." That's teasing of course and fondly so.
"And that might imply that I don't trust you," Hattie counters without any serious weight there to throw behind her words. A quick bob of her head signals agreement to sit, hand touched to P'draig's before she makes to round the couch and take a seat. "I think you'd need to buy somewhere, given the restaurant's current situation in that respect. Or maybe it's just me who'd want to buy somewhere and know I had that security," she goes on, folding down onto the couch, narrowly missing sitting on a little stuffed animal. Feigning innocence, she insists, "I never cause trouble. Ever. I don't know what you mean."
"Ah, I see. Because that's important to you," P'draig says, tone mildly humorous and waits until she's settled before stretching his arm out behind her. His other arm crosses over and he plucks the toy she just missed squashing up out of the couch cushions and makes it dance up her shoulder with a boyish grin. "Mm. I agree there'd be more reassurance that way, and I guess, if the place failed there's other things that a little piece of land and a cothold can be put to, or just plain resold." The stuffed animal's upward progress is halted at that feigned innocence and Paddy's arm moves suddenly, aiming to scoop the goldrider close again. "Guess that means you wouldn't ever want to get into any mischief with me again?" Teasing again.
"I suppose if you'd like it to look like I loathe and distrust you, I could easily oblige," Hattie considers in her most thoughtful of voices, sneaking a faintly devious look up at P'draig once he's settled beside her on the couch. She observes the stuffed animal's journey out of the corner of her eye as she speaks. "And you really wouldn't answer to anybody, that way," the Weyrwoman says of the buying of cotholds. "Technically." Just as the little critter halts, she grins all of a sudden and snatches at it, lobbing it unceremoniously across the weyr in the moment before she winds up that much closer to the brownrider. "Oh, I don't know. It'd have to be worth it, see. I have a reputation to maintain," she deadpans.
More quietly: "I'm glad that you do trust me and want that to be ... known," P'draig says of the first subject. "Might be a little strange only answering to myself ... but I see the point," the brownrider continues more thoughtfully and pauses a moment as Hattie' deadpans, mirth in his eyes. "An excellent reputation at that," Paddy says and hesitates for a moment longer before he leans in to kiss the goldrider lightly.
"Of course it is," Hattie murmurs, little smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, a smile that ends up getting a bit caught-up when that kiss lands and she returns it, eyes falling closed. "Trust me," she says softly when she draws back. "Only answering to yourself is worth it being any sort of strange. Though I do include answering to Elaruth in that." Blinking eyes back open, she means to fix her gaze back upon P'draig, traces of her smile still there.
"The best," P'draig quips after Hattie's drawn back, though his hand lingers where it's come to curl alongside her cheek. "I guess the closest I've come to that really, is being weyrlingmaster, though even then, I still answered to the Weyrleaders in the end, even given a lot of latitude for training." He takes a quick breath and smiles at the goldrider. "And I do trust you."
"Now, see, the thing is, if you really were to be entirely your own boss in some kind of way, you'd work the worst hours in the world. I don't think you'd treat yourself very well," Hattie teases terribly seriously, head tilting a little into the touch at her cheek. "We'd all have to have people keep tabs on you. Make sure you got holiday time and nights off and so on."
"You're probably right," P'draig says with a laugh. "Probably a lot safer to just stick to the one place and keep that time free for all of you who'd be keeping tabs on me if I were working myself to death again." The brownrider's fingers trace the contours of Hattie's jaw gently, then almost guiltily, he draws away. "Speaking of nights off, do you have any coming up? I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner again sometime."
Hattie flinches, fingers suddenly curling up tight. "Don't say that," she quietly implores, lingering amusement draining quickly away. "Working yourself to death." All without acknowledging the irony of her saying such a thing, brows dipping slightly when he draws away. "What's the matter?" she asks with the same quiet as before, though she nods a kind of affirmative to P'draig's question. "I'm sure I could find a night to have off."
"Hey, hey, I was just kidding," P'draig hastens to reassure. "Mic ... used to tease me all the time. About working too hard," the brownrider adds on by way of explanation. His arm curls around her shoulders and he smiles. "Good. Let me know when okay? So I can plan what to cook." The corner of his mouth quirks up wryly and he returns to the question she just asked. "Nothing. I just -- I don't want to take advantage or make you feel pressured for anything. I didn't come up here to seduce you. It's just easy to fall back into old habits when I'm around you," P'draig confesses softly.
"I'll have Elaruth yell over at Jekzith," Hattie agrees, faint smirk appearing for the idea of her lifemate ever yelling anything. Exhaling slowly, she turns a little, meaning to plant her hands on the brownrider's shoulders."I am perfectly capable of not only throwing you off of this couch, but out of my weyr and of Fort if I so choose," the goldrider declares in a mock-stern voice. "I think you know me well enough to know that I would stop you if I thought you were taking advantage or anything along those lines. I don't think you're that calculating, you know." Surely that last statement is meant to be a compliment, despite its form of delivery, softened by the kiss meant for his cheek.
"Okay, not that he needs any encouragement to keep some bandwidth open for her," P'draig jokes a little, then laughs in the wake of Hattie's statements and winds both arms around her again slowly. "I know you would. I just don't want to overstep, that's all." A little pause is followed by a lightly wry: "It's been a while," as he tilts his cheek into that kiss.
"Surely not." Hattie feigns shock, the edge of melodrama only reaching her eyes, fond smile otherwise dominating her features. A low note of laughter escapes her and she looks down, shaking her head a touch. "This feels a bit odd," she admits. "I'm sure how this generally goes involves you telling me not to worry about things. It's probably about time I returned the favour, isn't it?"
Smile warming in the face of feigned shock, Paddy laughs outright at Hattie's last. "If you feel so inclined," he jokes a little once more and his hand lifts again to find her cheek. "I won't worry, I'll just wait until you sock me one, to let me know, how's that?"
She starts off perfectly serious and quite earnest with it, something quite rare for Hattie when she's trying to be reassuring. "I don't think the worst of you. I might like to pretend it, but I don't. I know my own mind." She looks away, smile wry. "I think I might even trust you to know it too. So just... be calm." Looking back at P'draig, she adds, smirking, "Though if you /want/ to go down the getting injured route, then..."
That admission of trust draws a touched look to P'draig's face before he laughs once more. "I think I can take a fair bit of abuse," he goes back to joking, but at the same time, seeks to draw her close again and should she allow the next kiss to land, it's not light.
Hattie has to duck her head again when she laughs, obviously lost for words for once, fingers finding a marginally tighter grip on his shoulders in place of a voiced retort. Leaning closer when he draws her near, she returns his kiss in a fashion that's hardly chaste, one hand sliding up into his hair.
The palm of one of Paddy's hands presses into the small of Hattie's back, fingers tangling with the fabric of her shirt as that kiss goes on, intensifies. He breaks away after a moment, breathless and lets his forehead rest against hers, eyes closed, while he breathes in and out slowly. Finally, there's quiet words. "I've missed you."
Somewhere during everything, Hattie moves to settle in the brownrider's lap, his collar creased and tugged out of alignment by the grip one hand forms on his shirt. She remains with her forehead resting against his whilst she catches her breath, then dips her head down and tucks her face in against his neck like she'd hide or pretend that she doesn't softly admit, "I've missed you too."
Hattie's presence in his lap tightens P'draig's hand in the back of her shirt again, wrinkling it up as much, if not worse than the treatment his collar just suffered. What she says though, makes him catch his breath and in the wake of that admission, he shifts a little, folds his arms around her tenderly and just holds her, eyes still closed.
It's not the most elegant of poses that the Weyrwoman remains in, with her arms looped somewhat awkwardly around P'draig's shoulders and her head still tucked into the crook of his neck, but Hattie doesn't move and stays very, very still; so still that one might be forgiven for thinking that she might have fallen asleep again right there. However, eventually she stirs, though it's only to murmur, "I think this is preferable to the throwing you out option," without any humour at all.
"Far more," P'draig musters an answer after a moment, voice a little rough and his head lifts so he can look down into what he can see of her face. His hand moves again, reaching up to smooth her hair back from her face, one finger tracing the contour of her ear and then down along her jaw. Paddy's other arm stays curled around Hattie, still holding her close.
It can't be that surprising that Hattie keeps her eyes closed so that they can do nothing to give her away; no more than her burrowing closer can do, at least. There she stays for a while, until she stirs again, meaning to sit up, seeking P'draig's gaze with one of her own that makes it painfully obvious that she has absolutely no idea what to do or say. Eventually, she takes a deep breath; makes herself speak. "Did you still want to go play in the lake?" sounds as forced as it is.
"Carrying you off to bed has occurred to me as an alternative," P'draig answers with good-natured humor, fingers curling against the curve of her cheek once more. "But it'd probably be a good idea to go down there and make sure none of the kids has turned into a prune. That and I think they'd really love to see you." His head dips, lips pressed to her forehead. "May I come back tonight, though?"
"Keeping you occupied here on this couch has occurred to me as one," Hattie breathes out, eyes closing again. "But I think we should make sure that nobody has grown gills, yes," she goes on, fingers flexing in the material of his shirt. "If you don't come back tonight, I might never forgive you," the goldrider declares in a low voice, tilting her head to press a kiss to his jaw. Wryly, "To the lake it is. Let it not be said that Fort's Weyrwoman doesn't know how to have fun."
That staying on the couch is beyond tempting is readily obvious from the way Paddy's hand curls into Hattie's shirt again. However, he takes a few deep breaths and presses a kiss to her temple in turn, avoiding the temptation of her mouth. His fingers release fabric and he smiles down at the goldrider. "I promise that I will be back as soon as they're all down for the night." Paddy's smile curls readily now and he nods. "To the lake and likely much splashing. Just don't hit me /too/ hard if you catch me ogling," he says with a merry waggle of brows, then waits for her to unwind from his lap so he can get to his feet, take her hand and head back out to the summery lake's shore to dive back into what's left of an afternoon of family fun.
When: Afternoon, day 3, month 9, turn 24 of the 10th interval
Where: Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
What: Paddy brings the kids over to Fort for a family visit, comes to wheedle Hattie out into the sunshine and gets more than expected for his trouble.
>---< Local Weather for FTW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 62 F Today's Lo/Hi: 57 F / 79 F
Belior: waxing crescent Timor: waxing gibbous
Weather: Clear
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Clear and impossibly blue skies carry a hint of autumnal woodsmoke on the
breeze.
>--------------------------------------< 11:39 D3 M9 T24, autumn morning >---<
Hattie's Weyr, Fort Weyr
As is befitting of Fort's Senior Weyrwoman, this weyr is spacious and comfortable, richly appointed with all that comes with rank and privilege. Elaruth's wallow is deep and wide, lined with soft, padded wherhide folded neatly and precisely anchored around its rim. Towards the back of the room and at the head of the wallow 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. Gleaming brass hooks affixed to the walls provide more than enough space for straps, jackets and so on, the walls never bare so far as equipment goes. Towards the sturdy door that leads to the Weyrwoman's private quarters, well-stocked bookcases stand guard, keeping the meticulously organized desk and arrangement of blue couch, mismatching chairs and low table company.
Beyond the door lies a large bed made up with lavender sheets, blues and greens of its quilt matching the rectangular rugs on the floor. At its foot, another bookcase is home to a great number of storybooks. The large hearth lies across the chamber, two couches arranged before it a little oddly to make a triangle from the angles. Two tall fretwork screens corner off a portion of the weyr into what's almost a room of its own, a child's cot, toys and a small cupboard to be found within. At the very back of the chamber, another screen hides the bathing room and its large pool.
Early autumn at Fort is lovely, while Ista still swelters with summer humidity which could be partly why P'draig's brought the family here today. Palia, Dharia and Dylan are down by the lake shore paddling in the lake and spending some time with Gethin. Until recently, Paddy was part of the fun and games, but he's stepped away to find Hattie, hair still damp from that last dunking, courtesy of his increasingly tall eldest. Jekzith announced them politely earlier of course, his greeting to Elaruth chipper and bright, but it's only now that the brownrider's footsteps sound on the steps leading up to the Weyrwoman's weyr. "Hattie?"
Not present on her ledge, Elaruth padded off across the bowl some time ago, still to be found at the deepest point of the lake, alternating between floating and making deliberate ripples across its surface. By the time P'draig's journey up the steps might have been completed, Hattie's leaning against the stone archway of the mouth to her weyr, looking as presentable as ever, though a glance into the weyr itself is enough to discover that her living quarters are another story entirely at the moment. "Who have we to blame for this?" she questions, smirking as she tips her head to nod at the state of the brownrider.
P'draig laughs merrily as he reaches the top of the stairs and runs a hand through slightly too-long hair. "Palia," he claims with a little lift of his shoulders. "She's turning into a fish, I swear, from all the swimming she does." Hands are held out though, smile warm. "Is a hug, even a damp one still allowable?" With Elaruth in the water, Jekzith splits his attention between minding that the littler kids don't stray too deeply and sending waves back toward the queen. Any excuse to play.
"Not literally, I hope," Hattie remarks, pushing away from the wall. "You'd have to watch that she didn't decide that the ocean was her home." She hesitates a step or two into approaching P'draig, pretending to put great thought into whether or not she'll permit the hug, but a slow smile builds through the act and she makes to wrap arms around him all the same. "I think it's allowable," she confirms against his shoulder. "Do you want a towel or something?"
"No, though it might as well be. The ocean, I mean. When she's not in lessons, reading a book or learning a bit of cooking from me, she's out surfing," P'draig explains. That hesitation brings a hint of uncertainty to the brownrider's expression which fades rapidly once Hattie's wrapped her arms around him, his close around her in turn and he squeezes gently. "Believe it or not, I did use one before I came over, but it might be a good idea for me not to drip all over. I was vaguely intending to try to entice you over to the lake with us unless you're busy?"
Drawing back, Hattie looks him over again and decides, "Yes, I think it'd be best for you not to leave a trail wherever you go." She glances back into her weyr and pulls a face, head tilting a little. "Ignore the..." Nope, there's no other word for it but, "Mess. Things are quite chaotic at the moment. I meant to clean up earlier, but I sat down on the couch and woke up about half an hour ago," she confesses ruefully, determined to hide embarrassment. "Come on," the Weyrwoman says, turning to head inside. "I'm not busy. I probably should be. Could be."
"Kind of understandable with twins around," P'draig says lightly. "If you need a hand ..." he trails off, gesturing towards the 'chaos' inside. "I don't mind at all. Palia's pretty good about helping to keep up after the little ones." A tilt of his head back in the direction of the lake. "Should. Could. Want?" he asks teasingly, a note of fondness in his voice.
"Want," the goldrider admits with fairly good humour, lips twitching. "But my junior needs the challenge and I need the time right now, to be perfectly honest. It seems to be working out relatively... okay." Clearly Hattie can't bring herself to say or doesn't believe it's worth 'well'. "And if I'm going to be dealing with all this for the foreseeable future, I think it's best I do it myself, thank you all the same. I don't suppose that reply is a surprise, huh?"
Wandering on, she carries on through the doorway, not troubled by the brownrider's presence.
"Mm. I've ah ... well I've met your junior." Pause. Throat-clearing. "Preita." One of Paddy's hands lifts to the back of his neck, rubs there as he follows Hattie further inward. "She's very friendly." That's the tactful way of putting it. He does laugh again though, nodding ruefully as he scans the scatter of items in the weyr. "No, not a surprise. I don't think I've ever been able to convince you to relax properly unless you've made up your mind to do so ahead of time." Pausing by the couch, he does however, pick up the throw that often lies there and folds it up. "Other than possible ah ... issues with your junior, how've you been?" Casual.
Hattie's steps stop abruptly; too abruptly for her to make carrying on with her journey across to the bathing room seem merely meandering. "Please tell me you haven't /met/ her," she sighs, grimace mostly hidden. "Not that it's really any of my business." She soon reappears from the aforementioned chamber with a blue towel in her arms and throws it across to P'draig without much warning other than, "Catch." Kicking something /under/ the couch with the back of her heel as she passes by it, she shrugs and finally pauses to answer the enquiry. "Elaruth is content. Brayden visits the girls when he can. Gethin is..." She nods the way of the ledge and the lake, letting that speak for itself and neatly avoids how she is, already asking, "You?"
P'draig's gaze settles on Hattie at that abrupt stop before she disappears into the bathing room, at which point his eyes drop to the all-important business of tidying up the edges of the folded blanket. "No," is the very simple answer to the Weyrwoman's question. "And I'd say it is your business, at least a little," the brownrider continues, looks up suddenly as she utters the word 'catch'. At least his reflexes seem to still be pretty good, arm lifting, hand intercepting the flung towel. P'draig brings it up to give his hair a good drubbing first. "So Elaruth is well, the girls' father is doing his best and our baby is growing into a sturdy, strapping little fellow," he re-summarizes and as Hattie passes, Paddy reaches for her hand. "I'm doing pretty well. Busy with the restaurant. The kids. Thinking about maybe expanding the business. You?" He flashes a little grin at the end of that: he noticed she didn't answer. Verbal tennis.
"Down some rather awkward pathways we could go if we went into the ways in which it could be my business," the Weyrwoman says with what's meant to sound like wryness more than anything. Hattie leans one hip against the couch, arms lifting to fold across her chest. "Hmm. Summarizing key points; quite the Harper, aren't you?" she jokes in a low voice. "I hear you say 'business' and not restaurant, so I assume it's new premises that you mean and not an extension?" the goldrider queries, tipping her head back to look up at P'draig. "I'm fine," she assures in calm tones. "I want to cry and drag someone to bed on alternate days, but don't let myself do either. At least this time I was expecting it," is quite blunt.
"We have a child together," P'draig states simply. "Which doesn't strike me as awkward and reason enough to be your business," the brownrider continues quietly. "After all, who I spend my time with and who our son might be around when I do is absolutely, your business," Paddy points out. "And I'll let Remi know that his harperly habits are rubbing off on me," he quips back and aims to draw her hand up to his lips, to kiss gently. "Yes. Possibly a new location. A friend put the idea in my head and I've been considering it." That last earns a crooked little grin. "A little easier then, the second time around? Even with two at once?"
"Yes, we do," Hattie confirms needlessly. "But from the outside looking in, caring about that sort of thing might look like I thought I had a claim on you when I don't," she states in quite a businesslike manner, shoulders lifting, though she doesn't draw her hand back or tense up. "Another restaurant at Ista? Or elsewhere? Spend some time hopping time zones," the goldrider says with a smile. Her shoulders flex again, not making it all the way to another proper shrug. "It was easier. I remember more of it, more's the pity in some ways. But they were girls and of course they'd never cause trouble like boys," she claims with easy humour.
"Or it could just look like concern for Gethin," P'draig suggests mildly and releases her hand after giving it a little squeeze so he can give the back of his neck another swipe with the towel before he sits down. He offers a palm up to the goldrider then, brows lifting. "Sit with me for a bit?" He takes a breath though to go on. "I'm not sure yet about location. Maybe another on the island, maybe across the water in Igen or Nerat. It depends on a lot of things including being able to either rent or buy a location." And then he starts laughing. "Right. Because you'd never ever cause trouble, uh huh." That's teasing of course and fondly so.
"And that might imply that I don't trust you," Hattie counters without any serious weight there to throw behind her words. A quick bob of her head signals agreement to sit, hand touched to P'draig's before she makes to round the couch and take a seat. "I think you'd need to buy somewhere, given the restaurant's current situation in that respect. Or maybe it's just me who'd want to buy somewhere and know I had that security," she goes on, folding down onto the couch, narrowly missing sitting on a little stuffed animal. Feigning innocence, she insists, "I never cause trouble. Ever. I don't know what you mean."
"Ah, I see. Because that's important to you," P'draig says, tone mildly humorous and waits until she's settled before stretching his arm out behind her. His other arm crosses over and he plucks the toy she just missed squashing up out of the couch cushions and makes it dance up her shoulder with a boyish grin. "Mm. I agree there'd be more reassurance that way, and I guess, if the place failed there's other things that a little piece of land and a cothold can be put to, or just plain resold." The stuffed animal's upward progress is halted at that feigned innocence and Paddy's arm moves suddenly, aiming to scoop the goldrider close again. "Guess that means you wouldn't ever want to get into any mischief with me again?" Teasing again.
"I suppose if you'd like it to look like I loathe and distrust you, I could easily oblige," Hattie considers in her most thoughtful of voices, sneaking a faintly devious look up at P'draig once he's settled beside her on the couch. She observes the stuffed animal's journey out of the corner of her eye as she speaks. "And you really wouldn't answer to anybody, that way," the Weyrwoman says of the buying of cotholds. "Technically." Just as the little critter halts, she grins all of a sudden and snatches at it, lobbing it unceremoniously across the weyr in the moment before she winds up that much closer to the brownrider. "Oh, I don't know. It'd have to be worth it, see. I have a reputation to maintain," she deadpans.
More quietly: "I'm glad that you do trust me and want that to be ... known," P'draig says of the first subject. "Might be a little strange only answering to myself ... but I see the point," the brownrider continues more thoughtfully and pauses a moment as Hattie' deadpans, mirth in his eyes. "An excellent reputation at that," Paddy says and hesitates for a moment longer before he leans in to kiss the goldrider lightly.
"Of course it is," Hattie murmurs, little smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, a smile that ends up getting a bit caught-up when that kiss lands and she returns it, eyes falling closed. "Trust me," she says softly when she draws back. "Only answering to yourself is worth it being any sort of strange. Though I do include answering to Elaruth in that." Blinking eyes back open, she means to fix her gaze back upon P'draig, traces of her smile still there.
"The best," P'draig quips after Hattie's drawn back, though his hand lingers where it's come to curl alongside her cheek. "I guess the closest I've come to that really, is being weyrlingmaster, though even then, I still answered to the Weyrleaders in the end, even given a lot of latitude for training." He takes a quick breath and smiles at the goldrider. "And I do trust you."
"Now, see, the thing is, if you really were to be entirely your own boss in some kind of way, you'd work the worst hours in the world. I don't think you'd treat yourself very well," Hattie teases terribly seriously, head tilting a little into the touch at her cheek. "We'd all have to have people keep tabs on you. Make sure you got holiday time and nights off and so on."
"You're probably right," P'draig says with a laugh. "Probably a lot safer to just stick to the one place and keep that time free for all of you who'd be keeping tabs on me if I were working myself to death again." The brownrider's fingers trace the contours of Hattie's jaw gently, then almost guiltily, he draws away. "Speaking of nights off, do you have any coming up? I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner again sometime."
Hattie flinches, fingers suddenly curling up tight. "Don't say that," she quietly implores, lingering amusement draining quickly away. "Working yourself to death." All without acknowledging the irony of her saying such a thing, brows dipping slightly when he draws away. "What's the matter?" she asks with the same quiet as before, though she nods a kind of affirmative to P'draig's question. "I'm sure I could find a night to have off."
"Hey, hey, I was just kidding," P'draig hastens to reassure. "Mic ... used to tease me all the time. About working too hard," the brownrider adds on by way of explanation. His arm curls around her shoulders and he smiles. "Good. Let me know when okay? So I can plan what to cook." The corner of his mouth quirks up wryly and he returns to the question she just asked. "Nothing. I just -- I don't want to take advantage or make you feel pressured for anything. I didn't come up here to seduce you. It's just easy to fall back into old habits when I'm around you," P'draig confesses softly.
"I'll have Elaruth yell over at Jekzith," Hattie agrees, faint smirk appearing for the idea of her lifemate ever yelling anything. Exhaling slowly, she turns a little, meaning to plant her hands on the brownrider's shoulders."I am perfectly capable of not only throwing you off of this couch, but out of my weyr and of Fort if I so choose," the goldrider declares in a mock-stern voice. "I think you know me well enough to know that I would stop you if I thought you were taking advantage or anything along those lines. I don't think you're that calculating, you know." Surely that last statement is meant to be a compliment, despite its form of delivery, softened by the kiss meant for his cheek.
"Okay, not that he needs any encouragement to keep some bandwidth open for her," P'draig jokes a little, then laughs in the wake of Hattie's statements and winds both arms around her again slowly. "I know you would. I just don't want to overstep, that's all." A little pause is followed by a lightly wry: "It's been a while," as he tilts his cheek into that kiss.
"Surely not." Hattie feigns shock, the edge of melodrama only reaching her eyes, fond smile otherwise dominating her features. A low note of laughter escapes her and she looks down, shaking her head a touch. "This feels a bit odd," she admits. "I'm sure how this generally goes involves you telling me not to worry about things. It's probably about time I returned the favour, isn't it?"
Smile warming in the face of feigned shock, Paddy laughs outright at Hattie's last. "If you feel so inclined," he jokes a little once more and his hand lifts again to find her cheek. "I won't worry, I'll just wait until you sock me one, to let me know, how's that?"
She starts off perfectly serious and quite earnest with it, something quite rare for Hattie when she's trying to be reassuring. "I don't think the worst of you. I might like to pretend it, but I don't. I know my own mind." She looks away, smile wry. "I think I might even trust you to know it too. So just... be calm." Looking back at P'draig, she adds, smirking, "Though if you /want/ to go down the getting injured route, then..."
That admission of trust draws a touched look to P'draig's face before he laughs once more. "I think I can take a fair bit of abuse," he goes back to joking, but at the same time, seeks to draw her close again and should she allow the next kiss to land, it's not light.
Hattie has to duck her head again when she laughs, obviously lost for words for once, fingers finding a marginally tighter grip on his shoulders in place of a voiced retort. Leaning closer when he draws her near, she returns his kiss in a fashion that's hardly chaste, one hand sliding up into his hair.
The palm of one of Paddy's hands presses into the small of Hattie's back, fingers tangling with the fabric of her shirt as that kiss goes on, intensifies. He breaks away after a moment, breathless and lets his forehead rest against hers, eyes closed, while he breathes in and out slowly. Finally, there's quiet words. "I've missed you."
Somewhere during everything, Hattie moves to settle in the brownrider's lap, his collar creased and tugged out of alignment by the grip one hand forms on his shirt. She remains with her forehead resting against his whilst she catches her breath, then dips her head down and tucks her face in against his neck like she'd hide or pretend that she doesn't softly admit, "I've missed you too."
Hattie's presence in his lap tightens P'draig's hand in the back of her shirt again, wrinkling it up as much, if not worse than the treatment his collar just suffered. What she says though, makes him catch his breath and in the wake of that admission, he shifts a little, folds his arms around her tenderly and just holds her, eyes still closed.
It's not the most elegant of poses that the Weyrwoman remains in, with her arms looped somewhat awkwardly around P'draig's shoulders and her head still tucked into the crook of his neck, but Hattie doesn't move and stays very, very still; so still that one might be forgiven for thinking that she might have fallen asleep again right there. However, eventually she stirs, though it's only to murmur, "I think this is preferable to the throwing you out option," without any humour at all.
"Far more," P'draig musters an answer after a moment, voice a little rough and his head lifts so he can look down into what he can see of her face. His hand moves again, reaching up to smooth her hair back from her face, one finger tracing the contour of her ear and then down along her jaw. Paddy's other arm stays curled around Hattie, still holding her close.
It can't be that surprising that Hattie keeps her eyes closed so that they can do nothing to give her away; no more than her burrowing closer can do, at least. There she stays for a while, until she stirs again, meaning to sit up, seeking P'draig's gaze with one of her own that makes it painfully obvious that she has absolutely no idea what to do or say. Eventually, she takes a deep breath; makes herself speak. "Did you still want to go play in the lake?" sounds as forced as it is.
"Carrying you off to bed has occurred to me as an alternative," P'draig answers with good-natured humor, fingers curling against the curve of her cheek once more. "But it'd probably be a good idea to go down there and make sure none of the kids has turned into a prune. That and I think they'd really love to see you." His head dips, lips pressed to her forehead. "May I come back tonight, though?"
"Keeping you occupied here on this couch has occurred to me as one," Hattie breathes out, eyes closing again. "But I think we should make sure that nobody has grown gills, yes," she goes on, fingers flexing in the material of his shirt. "If you don't come back tonight, I might never forgive you," the goldrider declares in a low voice, tilting her head to press a kiss to his jaw. Wryly, "To the lake it is. Let it not be said that Fort's Weyrwoman doesn't know how to have fun."
That staying on the couch is beyond tempting is readily obvious from the way Paddy's hand curls into Hattie's shirt again. However, he takes a few deep breaths and presses a kiss to her temple in turn, avoiding the temptation of her mouth. His fingers release fabric and he smiles down at the goldrider. "I promise that I will be back as soon as they're all down for the night." Paddy's smile curls readily now and he nods. "To the lake and likely much splashing. Just don't hit me /too/ hard if you catch me ogling," he says with a merry waggle of brows, then waits for her to unwind from his lap so he can get to his feet, take her hand and head back out to the summery lake's shore to dive back into what's left of an afternoon of family fun.