Nothing to be concerned about.
Who: Miniyal and R'vain
Where: Weyrling training cavern
When: 19:11 on day 28, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: R'vain stops by. There is talking. And cooing of the manly variety. (Ok, not really that manly, but I throw him a bone.) There is also not talking, but they're good at that too.
Note: I don't think I was quite on my game in this scene. <3 to R'vain for putting up with it.
3/14/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 19:11 on day 28, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Evening free time. It is a wonderful thing to most people. To pretty much everyone, really. Except those who find themselves winding up making vague sorts of social overtures that tend to not last that long. Because, well, awkward. People. Still, most of the other weyrlings are in the barracks which means out here is better than in there. While it's not a corner, it's close enough to it because old habits die hard in some people. Miniyal's not avoiding people so much as just not trying real hard tonight to get involved in conversations. Instead she's doing what she's been doing every night at least for some time. Sitting beside her dragon who watches this person or that. This person or that will draw her rider's attention as well when it must and whatever they are talking about it's not any conversation anyone else gets to hear. A trip to the baths after dinner means tonight there is no attempt to read while she sits. Instead she's seated, combing out wet hair carefully, enjoying these few moments before braiding it back up and out of the way.
She probably should have chosen to stick to the weyrlings, because out here, there are fewer people for Miniyal to pretend to be conversing with. Out here, she's at the mercy of whatever Weyr dignitaries (or undignitaries) choose to visit. For example: R'vain. He stalks in, his bootfalls going almost silent as soon as they hit the sand-covered floor. It is not so full, not so distracting, that he can't at a glance decide which of the pairs and people present is one of the ones he needs to see. He prowls toward her, and toward her golden accompaniment, grinning a lolling, lazy grin.
Can't see who all comes and goes in the other room. Know who is in there and when they come out and who comes in and out here. So, out here it must be. In Miniyal's lap is what she needs for her hair. A couple of ribbons and a few pins to get her hair up out of the way. When the comb joins it she makes no move to fix anything yet. The back of her shirt is damp from her hair, likely she didn't get a chance to dry it as much as she would have liked before leaving. He might be able to sneak up on her, distracted as she appears to be, but another set of eyes finds him. Finds him and watches him as he prowls. Which allows, when he is closer, for a greeting to be given. "Sir." Looking up she rolls her eyes at the word, not standing but tossing him some absent sort of salute. Well, not so much absent as mocking.
"He tell y'a'ready that's what you got t'call me, then." The Weyrleader keeps coming until he's far too close to comfort-- to Peloth, that is. And there he stops, curling loose fists onto his hips, looking down at the queen who's been watching his prowl. "Willing t'bet a bottle t'you he'll sharpen up y'fingers f'that salute, too." He runs his tongue up over his teeth and quite suddenly grins one of his better, nicer grins-- by 'nicer' it is meant that he does not appear likely to bite-- eyes still on Tialith's golden offspring, not on the wet-haired woman who impressed her.
"Oh, you know no one has to tell me that, sir. Why, I respect you entirely too much not to use some proper form of address." Miniyal separates her hair and begins the first of the two braids that will get pinned up. "As for the other, probably. You gonna go running to him and tell him how poor a job I did? Cause otherwise he won't know, will he?" Well, she has a point there. He'll only know if someone tattles on her. When both braids are finished she pins them up, all the while not bothering to look up at him again. Peloth is allowed to give him her attention and she does so eyes whirling slowly before she lowers her head back down to rest it on a foreleg and continue her watching of the weyrleader.
"I know y'better'n that, Min'yal-- naw. S'long you don't get caught bein' shoddy by someone who cares." Still R'vain's looking at Peloth, not her rider, for the most part-- he glances little twitching looks over at Miniyal when her elbows raise in the braiding and such, but it's just the distraction of movement compared to the little queen's relatively slow adjustments of posture. "Hey, you," he says very quietly (for him) in a bit of a rasp, then jumps without apparent effort back into the gruff rumble for, "Sorry I didn't come by in th'morning. Thought y'might be busy."
Blinking twice before looking up there's a smile curving Miniyal's lips up. "Think so?" Just a quiet murmur interjected after that first statement. She's not about to let him think he knows anything about her for sure. Her comb gets tucked into her pocket and then she folds her hands in her lap. Peloth rewards his greeting with a quiet, see this is how quiet is done, warble. Followed by a head butt against his leg. She sees him, he's there. "Didn't think you would. I figured you would be busy yourself and I managed to make it through the day without your bright shining self to make my morning perfect. But, yes. I was busy and we had company so survived."
"Mm hm." R'vain thinks so. And it is, from the simple confidence of that statement, far too late for Miniyal to keep him from thinking so; she will have to settle for adjusting /what/ he thinks he knows, not that he knows anything at all. None of this, however, is going to be a topic of conversation because Peloth head-bumped his leg and instantly the Weyrleader's knees are bending, sudden and precipitous and easily athletic, into a deep squat. He puts out his hands, open, an offering. Taken in wholesale, just like that, by a dragon a foot and some less than his height. He can barely rumble back a reply, distracted, to the new weyrwoman. "Busy. Naw. Well, yeah. But not so bad. Letters. Announcements. Thanks and stuff. Roa's got th'worst of it, confirming th'new records. Company?" Oh. Belatedly, he glances up. Company? Oh! A scowl bends his mouth, and he looks back at Peloth. Scowl vanishes. Aw. Dragon baby.
Look! A hand. Peloth knows what those are for. They are for feeding and petting. Since she is not being fed she just nudges at the hand and then lifts her head up, stretching her neck out. See, here, rub the neck. Miniyal watches all of this quietly other than a snort. And the required roll of her eyes. "She's a spoiled brat. Brat." The first sentence to the weyrleader, the last word to the dragon who is not being spoiled, but wouldn't mind a bit of it. "Lucky her then. Or is it lucky you. I can't imagine so if you've been writing letters. We all know how hard that is for you." All of that before she deals with that scowl. "Yes, company. He came by to meet her. And he did and then he left and there's no point in scowling, you know. They are going to be expected to live together eventually so it only seems fair they meet." Yes, there's a thought to cheer him up.
Aw, dragon baby neck. R'vain, obligingly, overturns his paws and lays them both, slow and easy, upon the golden hide. They're warm, always; he warms her hide with them, and strokes her, and grins in a manner that is closer to the spectrum of 'goofy' than 'leering.' This lends his replies a certain warmth that they probably should actually lack. "No. Ain't that. I'm glad he visited. Be pissed, he didn't. Just-- I can never trust his motives. Never know what he's planning t'have someone think it's their own idea t'do." The Weyrleader's hands pause on Peloth's hide, and he blinks, then glances up, and glances back down /real/ quick. Maybe a little too much talking there. He grunts, and strokes the hatchling queen.
Warm hands differ from the last set of hands that came to greet her and give her the due she deserves. Peloth stretches her neck as far as she can, not watching the owner of the hands anymore, but turning her gaze towards her rider. The look is noted and returned, but Miniyal focuses more on the weyrleader than the dragon. He must have said too much because there are no words returned. Not for several minutes. "I know my own mind," she finally offers almost silently. If she's assuring him or her, that's something she can't help him to figure out.
Nor does it seem to matter. R'vain responds, addressing Peloth though the answer is for Miniyal, voice softened if not quiet. "Good." His warm, smooth, oft-oiled if freckled paws sleek over the dragon's hide, down the length of her neck to her chest, then drop to her forelegs and stroke there. His eyes narrow a little; it's like he's inspecting, in a way, as if he falls that easily into the habit of finding fault with weyrling care. He does not, however, go so far as to step into D'ven's territory in sharing faults if he finds them. "So, uh, you said y'had something t'tell me, I think."
"You should be more concerned with that fact." Miniyal smiles as she speaks, voice kept low and amused sounding. Really, her own mind gets her into enough trouble. He should wish someone else had any ability to get her to think other than the way she does. She watches his inspection of Peloth who doesn't mind it at all until she does and then she just breathes on his face and settles her head back down. "I did? Did I say that?" Blinking several times she looks up again, all smiles. "Oh, I guess I did. But, there's a slight problem now." Just a slight problem, nothing to worry about at all, really. "I mean, things have changed. I'm not sure. . .well. I suppose I could tell you this at least."
Apparently any way of thinking that's not being fed your thoughts by the Caucus' instructor of /ethics/ is fine by R'vain; he shakes his head and ignores Miniyal's bait. Instead he attends to Peloth, holding his breath while she heaves her own into his face, then continues the travel of his paws-- /they/ pet, even if his eyes inspect-- down her forelegs toward hers, as best he can, around her lowered head. "Yeah, y'can tell me. And what problem? You can't be quite as sneaky now, y'mean." His tongue bulges his upper lip while his fingers make deft progress over golden toes, fearless. "You'll find a way. Women always do."
Eyes roll again and Miniyal doesn't speak for awhile. She watches him, being watched in turn by Peloth who seems indifferent now to his hands other than slight shifting when needed to be sure he can move his hands where they will. So he might understand how wonderful she is, after all. "I spoke to someone shortly before the hatching. Who was interested in my keeping tabs on certain people for them. This person may or may not still want me to do this work for them now. I need to track down all my clients." All, as if she has plenty, well, what people don't know doesn't hurt them. "But, I thought, all things considered, it would be polite to mention it to you. Since you were one of the people mentioned they were curious about." A pause and she sits up straighter, well, she's already got perfect posture, but she has a way of drawing herself up, chin tilting up and eyeing him. "I am not sneaky. I am just quiet. And good at not being noticed. And hearing things. And, please. This won't stop me. And I am not sneaky because I am a woman. You are such an ass." Probably not the best way to speak to the weyrleader here, but dammit, it's habit.
There's the sound of wings folding and a dragon settling, Teraneth having returned from feeding. Once he's settled, the bronze glances around his domain for a moment before appearing to begin daydreaming.
R'vain, surely, understands how wonderful Peloth is. His thick, warm fingers move nimbly over her (relatively, for a dragon) little paws, separating toes very slightly, touching the thick muscular pads below that she walks upon, stroking gently the soft hide around the talons. If there are cracks, however fine, the Weyrleader will find them; but if there are, he will also say not a word about them, nor express reaction. He is, at some level, concentrating on what Peloth's rider says. The last bit gets him first-- he tosses up a quick grin, cocky and broad, for Miniyal to enjoy, before looking down again. "Y'said it before, y'can say it again," he allows, of that. "Thing is what you hear she hears, and all. Don't underestimate it. Just-- eh. I ain't concerned. Y'don't need my advice 'bout resourcefulness." What she /told/ him, well. That just sits there in the air, silent and dull, while R'vain finishes checking out the young queen's paws. He strokes her snout after that, just once, and shoves himself up from his deep crouch with a grunt.
"Of course you're not concerned. I'm nothing to be concerned about." Another smile as Miniyal assures him of this. Looking at Peloth she nods once. "Yes, I know. But. . .it's not going to be an issue. Although at least it means I can work out a way to not have to see you to pass things on. It will work in my favor that way." Head tilting to the side she gives him a final look when he finishes checking out her dragon. "You know-" Start and then stop. Blinking she shakes her head and lets out a sigh. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?" Like he showed up to chit chat socially, her being his favorite person in the world to talk to always.
Snort! R'vain, midway through straightening, shakes his head. No concerns here. He keeps his head down, looking at Peloth, or seeming to look at Peloth, gaze sometimes upcast at her rider from beneath the fan of brilliant red lashes. "Plenty," he informs her, pretty simply, in a gruff rumble. Maybe he's aware of the looming presence of the enormous bronze daydreaming a ways away; maybe he's just getting ready to go and putting on the distance before his feet move, but he shoves his paws into his pockets and shrugs a shrug from which his shoulders don't entirely recover their relaxation. "Want t'know more 'bout what you just said. And want t'keep you on. That's all, f'now. You tell me what comes next, and when."
Stupid daydreaming dragon. It requires more of Miniyal than just sitting there as he stands up. Instead she rises to her feet. "Sure, I'll come by in a couple days after lunch. We can discuss things. But you have to provide the cookies this time because I brought them last time and it is only fair. Fair is a word that means free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice. Do you know what those words mean?" Peloth rumbles and nudges against Miniyal's hand. For his sake she turns to that head and explains. "No, he has to have things explained to him. He's not very smart." She is so helpful. "It was a pleasure to see you as always, sir." Ok, a tiny bit of mocking still in that last word. It's hard to get rid of!
The Weyrleader looks on Miniyal with a somewhat dark look, despite the grin sprawled over his mouth; she might take him for the dullard she describes him to be. But he bends his head a nod good-bye-- no, a nod to hide the sudden twist of his pearly smirk. "As you mean 'em," rumbles R'vain, "partiality, perfidy, an'prejudice." His shoulders roll again and drop as he hauls his head up, to share now the smirk with Miniyal rather than her dragon. "G'day, Min'yal." And /he/ salutes, lazy of motion but perfect of position, before turning to prowl his way out.
For his scowls and his dark look he gets only a smile in return. A cheerful sort of smile from Miniyal because he might not have expected it. He should expect the salute, because she wouldn't not do it with that large bronze over there. Much less casual than last time, but still not anywhere near what it likely could or should be. "Good evening, sir." See? Nothing to be worried about. Just a good little weyrling here. "Although you have to tell me who bought you a dictionary sometime, sir. What a thoughtful gift." Said to his back, still smiling before she settles back down where she was to enjoy what is left of her free time.
Where: Weyrling training cavern
When: 19:11 on day 28, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: R'vain stops by. There is talking. And cooing of the manly variety. (Ok, not really that manly, but I throw him a bone.) There is also not talking, but they're good at that too.
Note: I don't think I was quite on my game in this scene. <3 to R'vain for putting up with it.
3/14/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 19:11 on day 28, month 5, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
Evening free time. It is a wonderful thing to most people. To pretty much everyone, really. Except those who find themselves winding up making vague sorts of social overtures that tend to not last that long. Because, well, awkward. People. Still, most of the other weyrlings are in the barracks which means out here is better than in there. While it's not a corner, it's close enough to it because old habits die hard in some people. Miniyal's not avoiding people so much as just not trying real hard tonight to get involved in conversations. Instead she's doing what she's been doing every night at least for some time. Sitting beside her dragon who watches this person or that. This person or that will draw her rider's attention as well when it must and whatever they are talking about it's not any conversation anyone else gets to hear. A trip to the baths after dinner means tonight there is no attempt to read while she sits. Instead she's seated, combing out wet hair carefully, enjoying these few moments before braiding it back up and out of the way.
She probably should have chosen to stick to the weyrlings, because out here, there are fewer people for Miniyal to pretend to be conversing with. Out here, she's at the mercy of whatever Weyr dignitaries (or undignitaries) choose to visit. For example: R'vain. He stalks in, his bootfalls going almost silent as soon as they hit the sand-covered floor. It is not so full, not so distracting, that he can't at a glance decide which of the pairs and people present is one of the ones he needs to see. He prowls toward her, and toward her golden accompaniment, grinning a lolling, lazy grin.
Can't see who all comes and goes in the other room. Know who is in there and when they come out and who comes in and out here. So, out here it must be. In Miniyal's lap is what she needs for her hair. A couple of ribbons and a few pins to get her hair up out of the way. When the comb joins it she makes no move to fix anything yet. The back of her shirt is damp from her hair, likely she didn't get a chance to dry it as much as she would have liked before leaving. He might be able to sneak up on her, distracted as she appears to be, but another set of eyes finds him. Finds him and watches him as he prowls. Which allows, when he is closer, for a greeting to be given. "Sir." Looking up she rolls her eyes at the word, not standing but tossing him some absent sort of salute. Well, not so much absent as mocking.
"He tell y'a'ready that's what you got t'call me, then." The Weyrleader keeps coming until he's far too close to comfort-- to Peloth, that is. And there he stops, curling loose fists onto his hips, looking down at the queen who's been watching his prowl. "Willing t'bet a bottle t'you he'll sharpen up y'fingers f'that salute, too." He runs his tongue up over his teeth and quite suddenly grins one of his better, nicer grins-- by 'nicer' it is meant that he does not appear likely to bite-- eyes still on Tialith's golden offspring, not on the wet-haired woman who impressed her.
"Oh, you know no one has to tell me that, sir. Why, I respect you entirely too much not to use some proper form of address." Miniyal separates her hair and begins the first of the two braids that will get pinned up. "As for the other, probably. You gonna go running to him and tell him how poor a job I did? Cause otherwise he won't know, will he?" Well, she has a point there. He'll only know if someone tattles on her. When both braids are finished she pins them up, all the while not bothering to look up at him again. Peloth is allowed to give him her attention and she does so eyes whirling slowly before she lowers her head back down to rest it on a foreleg and continue her watching of the weyrleader.
"I know y'better'n that, Min'yal-- naw. S'long you don't get caught bein' shoddy by someone who cares." Still R'vain's looking at Peloth, not her rider, for the most part-- he glances little twitching looks over at Miniyal when her elbows raise in the braiding and such, but it's just the distraction of movement compared to the little queen's relatively slow adjustments of posture. "Hey, you," he says very quietly (for him) in a bit of a rasp, then jumps without apparent effort back into the gruff rumble for, "Sorry I didn't come by in th'morning. Thought y'might be busy."
Blinking twice before looking up there's a smile curving Miniyal's lips up. "Think so?" Just a quiet murmur interjected after that first statement. She's not about to let him think he knows anything about her for sure. Her comb gets tucked into her pocket and then she folds her hands in her lap. Peloth rewards his greeting with a quiet, see this is how quiet is done, warble. Followed by a head butt against his leg. She sees him, he's there. "Didn't think you would. I figured you would be busy yourself and I managed to make it through the day without your bright shining self to make my morning perfect. But, yes. I was busy and we had company so survived."
"Mm hm." R'vain thinks so. And it is, from the simple confidence of that statement, far too late for Miniyal to keep him from thinking so; she will have to settle for adjusting /what/ he thinks he knows, not that he knows anything at all. None of this, however, is going to be a topic of conversation because Peloth head-bumped his leg and instantly the Weyrleader's knees are bending, sudden and precipitous and easily athletic, into a deep squat. He puts out his hands, open, an offering. Taken in wholesale, just like that, by a dragon a foot and some less than his height. He can barely rumble back a reply, distracted, to the new weyrwoman. "Busy. Naw. Well, yeah. But not so bad. Letters. Announcements. Thanks and stuff. Roa's got th'worst of it, confirming th'new records. Company?" Oh. Belatedly, he glances up. Company? Oh! A scowl bends his mouth, and he looks back at Peloth. Scowl vanishes. Aw. Dragon baby.
Look! A hand. Peloth knows what those are for. They are for feeding and petting. Since she is not being fed she just nudges at the hand and then lifts her head up, stretching her neck out. See, here, rub the neck. Miniyal watches all of this quietly other than a snort. And the required roll of her eyes. "She's a spoiled brat. Brat." The first sentence to the weyrleader, the last word to the dragon who is not being spoiled, but wouldn't mind a bit of it. "Lucky her then. Or is it lucky you. I can't imagine so if you've been writing letters. We all know how hard that is for you." All of that before she deals with that scowl. "Yes, company. He came by to meet her. And he did and then he left and there's no point in scowling, you know. They are going to be expected to live together eventually so it only seems fair they meet." Yes, there's a thought to cheer him up.
Aw, dragon baby neck. R'vain, obligingly, overturns his paws and lays them both, slow and easy, upon the golden hide. They're warm, always; he warms her hide with them, and strokes her, and grins in a manner that is closer to the spectrum of 'goofy' than 'leering.' This lends his replies a certain warmth that they probably should actually lack. "No. Ain't that. I'm glad he visited. Be pissed, he didn't. Just-- I can never trust his motives. Never know what he's planning t'have someone think it's their own idea t'do." The Weyrleader's hands pause on Peloth's hide, and he blinks, then glances up, and glances back down /real/ quick. Maybe a little too much talking there. He grunts, and strokes the hatchling queen.
Warm hands differ from the last set of hands that came to greet her and give her the due she deserves. Peloth stretches her neck as far as she can, not watching the owner of the hands anymore, but turning her gaze towards her rider. The look is noted and returned, but Miniyal focuses more on the weyrleader than the dragon. He must have said too much because there are no words returned. Not for several minutes. "I know my own mind," she finally offers almost silently. If she's assuring him or her, that's something she can't help him to figure out.
Nor does it seem to matter. R'vain responds, addressing Peloth though the answer is for Miniyal, voice softened if not quiet. "Good." His warm, smooth, oft-oiled if freckled paws sleek over the dragon's hide, down the length of her neck to her chest, then drop to her forelegs and stroke there. His eyes narrow a little; it's like he's inspecting, in a way, as if he falls that easily into the habit of finding fault with weyrling care. He does not, however, go so far as to step into D'ven's territory in sharing faults if he finds them. "So, uh, you said y'had something t'tell me, I think."
"You should be more concerned with that fact." Miniyal smiles as she speaks, voice kept low and amused sounding. Really, her own mind gets her into enough trouble. He should wish someone else had any ability to get her to think other than the way she does. She watches his inspection of Peloth who doesn't mind it at all until she does and then she just breathes on his face and settles her head back down. "I did? Did I say that?" Blinking several times she looks up again, all smiles. "Oh, I guess I did. But, there's a slight problem now." Just a slight problem, nothing to worry about at all, really. "I mean, things have changed. I'm not sure. . .well. I suppose I could tell you this at least."
Apparently any way of thinking that's not being fed your thoughts by the Caucus' instructor of /ethics/ is fine by R'vain; he shakes his head and ignores Miniyal's bait. Instead he attends to Peloth, holding his breath while she heaves her own into his face, then continues the travel of his paws-- /they/ pet, even if his eyes inspect-- down her forelegs toward hers, as best he can, around her lowered head. "Yeah, y'can tell me. And what problem? You can't be quite as sneaky now, y'mean." His tongue bulges his upper lip while his fingers make deft progress over golden toes, fearless. "You'll find a way. Women always do."
Eyes roll again and Miniyal doesn't speak for awhile. She watches him, being watched in turn by Peloth who seems indifferent now to his hands other than slight shifting when needed to be sure he can move his hands where they will. So he might understand how wonderful she is, after all. "I spoke to someone shortly before the hatching. Who was interested in my keeping tabs on certain people for them. This person may or may not still want me to do this work for them now. I need to track down all my clients." All, as if she has plenty, well, what people don't know doesn't hurt them. "But, I thought, all things considered, it would be polite to mention it to you. Since you were one of the people mentioned they were curious about." A pause and she sits up straighter, well, she's already got perfect posture, but she has a way of drawing herself up, chin tilting up and eyeing him. "I am not sneaky. I am just quiet. And good at not being noticed. And hearing things. And, please. This won't stop me. And I am not sneaky because I am a woman. You are such an ass." Probably not the best way to speak to the weyrleader here, but dammit, it's habit.
There's the sound of wings folding and a dragon settling, Teraneth having returned from feeding. Once he's settled, the bronze glances around his domain for a moment before appearing to begin daydreaming.
R'vain, surely, understands how wonderful Peloth is. His thick, warm fingers move nimbly over her (relatively, for a dragon) little paws, separating toes very slightly, touching the thick muscular pads below that she walks upon, stroking gently the soft hide around the talons. If there are cracks, however fine, the Weyrleader will find them; but if there are, he will also say not a word about them, nor express reaction. He is, at some level, concentrating on what Peloth's rider says. The last bit gets him first-- he tosses up a quick grin, cocky and broad, for Miniyal to enjoy, before looking down again. "Y'said it before, y'can say it again," he allows, of that. "Thing is what you hear she hears, and all. Don't underestimate it. Just-- eh. I ain't concerned. Y'don't need my advice 'bout resourcefulness." What she /told/ him, well. That just sits there in the air, silent and dull, while R'vain finishes checking out the young queen's paws. He strokes her snout after that, just once, and shoves himself up from his deep crouch with a grunt.
"Of course you're not concerned. I'm nothing to be concerned about." Another smile as Miniyal assures him of this. Looking at Peloth she nods once. "Yes, I know. But. . .it's not going to be an issue. Although at least it means I can work out a way to not have to see you to pass things on. It will work in my favor that way." Head tilting to the side she gives him a final look when he finishes checking out her dragon. "You know-" Start and then stop. Blinking she shakes her head and lets out a sigh. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?" Like he showed up to chit chat socially, her being his favorite person in the world to talk to always.
Snort! R'vain, midway through straightening, shakes his head. No concerns here. He keeps his head down, looking at Peloth, or seeming to look at Peloth, gaze sometimes upcast at her rider from beneath the fan of brilliant red lashes. "Plenty," he informs her, pretty simply, in a gruff rumble. Maybe he's aware of the looming presence of the enormous bronze daydreaming a ways away; maybe he's just getting ready to go and putting on the distance before his feet move, but he shoves his paws into his pockets and shrugs a shrug from which his shoulders don't entirely recover their relaxation. "Want t'know more 'bout what you just said. And want t'keep you on. That's all, f'now. You tell me what comes next, and when."
Stupid daydreaming dragon. It requires more of Miniyal than just sitting there as he stands up. Instead she rises to her feet. "Sure, I'll come by in a couple days after lunch. We can discuss things. But you have to provide the cookies this time because I brought them last time and it is only fair. Fair is a word that means free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice. Do you know what those words mean?" Peloth rumbles and nudges against Miniyal's hand. For his sake she turns to that head and explains. "No, he has to have things explained to him. He's not very smart." She is so helpful. "It was a pleasure to see you as always, sir." Ok, a tiny bit of mocking still in that last word. It's hard to get rid of!
The Weyrleader looks on Miniyal with a somewhat dark look, despite the grin sprawled over his mouth; she might take him for the dullard she describes him to be. But he bends his head a nod good-bye-- no, a nod to hide the sudden twist of his pearly smirk. "As you mean 'em," rumbles R'vain, "partiality, perfidy, an'prejudice." His shoulders roll again and drop as he hauls his head up, to share now the smirk with Miniyal rather than her dragon. "G'day, Min'yal." And /he/ salutes, lazy of motion but perfect of position, before turning to prowl his way out.
For his scowls and his dark look he gets only a smile in return. A cheerful sort of smile from Miniyal because he might not have expected it. He should expect the salute, because she wouldn't not do it with that large bronze over there. Much less casual than last time, but still not anywhere near what it likely could or should be. "Good evening, sir." See? Nothing to be worried about. Just a good little weyrling here. "Although you have to tell me who bought you a dictionary sometime, sir. What a thoughtful gift." Said to his back, still smiling before she settles back down where she was to enjoy what is left of her free time.