Gratitude, surely.
Reyce is browsing the stores for something when H'kon comes by, lugging a heavy crate. He helps out a bit.
6-10-2007 (Reyce, H'kon):
Stores
Upon entering this immense cavern, the nose is assaulted with a miasma of scents-- spices and old hides and stored clothing and dry goods and an older musty smell that is likely linked to dust and the inevitable decay that strikes any storage cavern. While the Weyr does follow a strict organizational system that ensures that like is stored with or near like, it's still possible to lose one's self here without a solid knowledge of the shelves' layout. These shelves are impressive, too. They rise from floor to shadowed ceiling, wall to distant wall, separated by wide aisles that hold carts and ladders for the fetching and transportation of required goods. Two tunnels exit this cavern. The first is a short tunnel that leads to the upper caverns. The second, much longer, takes a person directly to the kitchens.
Clearly located by the light of a glow he had the presence of mind to grab, Reyce has just stepped into the aisles of the storeroom and has not yet had time to get lost in the vast place. Still aware of the possibility, though, he moves cautiously, stopping to check the end of each shelf and read whatever guide (if any) is posted to its contents. The slow movements, coupled with the heavy winter coat he still wears, make him appear a sort of ominous, shadowy figure.
Reyce is not the only ominous, shadowy figure in the stores, although H'kon's bulk has more to do with his build, and less with his garb. Whatever riding jacket he'd surely been wearing has since been shed and left somewhere, and it's in a thicker tunic, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, that the brownrider lugs a rather awkward box through the store room. All is going well until there's a man in a big coat in his way. That box, which the rider's short arms are having trouble holding as is, is jostled to the side. H'kon doesn't have much to say now. Just shoots an expectant, vaguely annoyed look over the top of the crate at this other person.
Hearing footsteps, Reyce glances up to see the shadowy brownrider's approach. His eyes travel up to H'kon's face, flicking quickly over that mixed expression, and after a dull beat of silent he moves, setting his glow on a shelf and pressing himself flat against same. "Help with that, you need it," he offers, his quiet voice - for once - carrying clearly in the silent, echoey stores. He doesn't press the offer, though, those jacket-bulked shoulders lifting in a disinterested shrug after he's spoken.
H'kon's fingers tense around the corner of the box, and it's given a little heft. Reyce is eyed right on back. And the offer, after a moment's cntemplation, well after the other man has had time to complete that shrug, receives a nod that threatens to smack his chin on a corner of his cargo. H'kon walks a ways down the aisle, jolting his head toward a spot on a shelf crowded by a few other boxes. "Move those to the side," is said in more of a direction than a request.
Receiving that confirmation, Reyce pauses to peel his heavy jacket off - it would only get in the way of his efforts - though one would think the clothing beneath, a well-knit sweater and neat slacks, would best be protected. He doesn't seem to notice the tone of H'kon's order, simply following him down the aisle and moving to push the other boxes aside. Though Reyce lacks the brownrider's bulk, he apparently has strength enough to move the other boxes easily, and H'kon won't have to wait long before there's a space cleared for his cargo and Reyce steps aside to let him at it.
For all the awkwardness of the box, once a space has been cleared, it's manoeuvred into position with a certain ease that can only come with practice. H'kon's motions are effecient, if not quite graceful. Freed hands are brought before his chest, and the stocky brownrider cracks the knuckles on either one with a rolling push of the opposite palm to the tops of the fingers. Dry sounds in dim stores. Only then does his helper get looked at, and receive an inclination of his head. Gratitude, surely.
Reyce decides to lean against the shelves on the opposite side of the aisle while he waits, one foot crossed over the other's ankle. He's watching H'kon, and meets the brownrider's eyes when he offers that nod. If it can be interpreted as thanks, surely his grunt can be interpreted as welcome. "That done?" he asks, tugging his chin at the boxes now gathered on that shelf.
H'kon glance back to the shelf, and then returns his gaze to Reyce. A nod. "That," slight stress on the demonsrative pronoun, "is. There are only smaller things left." Right hand is lifted, left index probes right where the thumb joins the palm. An eyebrow twitches upward, but is quick to lie back down. Who may even see it, unless that glow is casting light just right on the brownrider's face.
The eyebrow goes unseen, glowlit or not, because Reyce is watching his feet as he pushes his weight off those shelves and straightens again. "You want any help," he offers, but again, does not press. Now that he's up, and H'kon's no longer bent under the weight of the box, it's clear he has several inches on the brownrider, which he's currently using to look over the other man's head with a considering, but not committed, glance at his abandoned glow and coat. In silent-speak, this seems to mean, 'Otherwise, I'll just go back over there.'
Strange but true, in the relative safety of darkened store rooms, H'kon is less concerned with trying to make himself big and tall; the brownrider stands easy. "It.. is not me you should be asking." Thumb joint receives another rub, and then hands are dropped to his belt, where fingertips are free to drum against the leather. "I am help, only."
"You're the one carrying it," Reyce answers easily, dropping his gaze to the brownrider. "Not enlisting or anything." He speaks the word 'enlisting' with the wary precision of someone who's not accustomed to using that kind of word in his speech, and does not trust its being there. "Just around." More comfortable with this, he lifts a hand in a vague wave towards his chest, then lets the hand - and the issue, if H'kon prefers - drop.
"Not any longer," H'kon points out. Fingers grow tired of drumming the belt, and cross over his chest. They manage to stay there a whole half a minute, and then drop so that thumbs can latch in his pockets. The placed box is given a final gander, and then he's stepping to the side. Toward the main 'hall' running between the aisles of shelves. "If I am in your way," comes as a means of excusing himself. Another sidelong step toward freer space.
Not any longer - Reyce acknowledges the truth of that with another grunt, and as timing would have it, happens to shove his hands into his pockets at about the same moment H'kon is latching onto his. "No," he answers the excuse plainly, but since there's no prospect of box lifting to keep him here, he sets off to rejoin his glowlit coat.
H'kon's face gets an awkward stretch - a smile, at least, the best impression of one that the man can do when not having it brought on automatically by some instinctive reaction to a sudden outward stimulus. "Ah," is replied to that dismissal. A moment is taken to watch the reunion of man and coat and glow, though already his lean hints toward a flight to the exit.
A flight which Reyce doesn't seem inclined to interrupt. He doesn't put on his jacket again, simply throwing it over his arm with a heavy rustle, but otherwise he resumes his search exactly as he was before H'kon's arrival: glowlight held up, labels inspected. Cautiously proceeding down the row.
Once the aisle is proven to be cleared, H'kon has nothing further keeping him. And so, with a nod of his head that Reyce is likely to miss, flight plans are put into action, and the rider has moved off toward an exit, either to be approached with further boxes to carry, or to find something else to occupy his time until duty calls.
6-10-2007 (Reyce, H'kon):
Stores
Upon entering this immense cavern, the nose is assaulted with a miasma of scents-- spices and old hides and stored clothing and dry goods and an older musty smell that is likely linked to dust and the inevitable decay that strikes any storage cavern. While the Weyr does follow a strict organizational system that ensures that like is stored with or near like, it's still possible to lose one's self here without a solid knowledge of the shelves' layout. These shelves are impressive, too. They rise from floor to shadowed ceiling, wall to distant wall, separated by wide aisles that hold carts and ladders for the fetching and transportation of required goods. Two tunnels exit this cavern. The first is a short tunnel that leads to the upper caverns. The second, much longer, takes a person directly to the kitchens.
Clearly located by the light of a glow he had the presence of mind to grab, Reyce has just stepped into the aisles of the storeroom and has not yet had time to get lost in the vast place. Still aware of the possibility, though, he moves cautiously, stopping to check the end of each shelf and read whatever guide (if any) is posted to its contents. The slow movements, coupled with the heavy winter coat he still wears, make him appear a sort of ominous, shadowy figure.
Reyce is not the only ominous, shadowy figure in the stores, although H'kon's bulk has more to do with his build, and less with his garb. Whatever riding jacket he'd surely been wearing has since been shed and left somewhere, and it's in a thicker tunic, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, that the brownrider lugs a rather awkward box through the store room. All is going well until there's a man in a big coat in his way. That box, which the rider's short arms are having trouble holding as is, is jostled to the side. H'kon doesn't have much to say now. Just shoots an expectant, vaguely annoyed look over the top of the crate at this other person.
Hearing footsteps, Reyce glances up to see the shadowy brownrider's approach. His eyes travel up to H'kon's face, flicking quickly over that mixed expression, and after a dull beat of silent he moves, setting his glow on a shelf and pressing himself flat against same. "Help with that, you need it," he offers, his quiet voice - for once - carrying clearly in the silent, echoey stores. He doesn't press the offer, though, those jacket-bulked shoulders lifting in a disinterested shrug after he's spoken.
H'kon's fingers tense around the corner of the box, and it's given a little heft. Reyce is eyed right on back. And the offer, after a moment's cntemplation, well after the other man has had time to complete that shrug, receives a nod that threatens to smack his chin on a corner of his cargo. H'kon walks a ways down the aisle, jolting his head toward a spot on a shelf crowded by a few other boxes. "Move those to the side," is said in more of a direction than a request.
Receiving that confirmation, Reyce pauses to peel his heavy jacket off - it would only get in the way of his efforts - though one would think the clothing beneath, a well-knit sweater and neat slacks, would best be protected. He doesn't seem to notice the tone of H'kon's order, simply following him down the aisle and moving to push the other boxes aside. Though Reyce lacks the brownrider's bulk, he apparently has strength enough to move the other boxes easily, and H'kon won't have to wait long before there's a space cleared for his cargo and Reyce steps aside to let him at it.
For all the awkwardness of the box, once a space has been cleared, it's manoeuvred into position with a certain ease that can only come with practice. H'kon's motions are effecient, if not quite graceful. Freed hands are brought before his chest, and the stocky brownrider cracks the knuckles on either one with a rolling push of the opposite palm to the tops of the fingers. Dry sounds in dim stores. Only then does his helper get looked at, and receive an inclination of his head. Gratitude, surely.
Reyce decides to lean against the shelves on the opposite side of the aisle while he waits, one foot crossed over the other's ankle. He's watching H'kon, and meets the brownrider's eyes when he offers that nod. If it can be interpreted as thanks, surely his grunt can be interpreted as welcome. "That done?" he asks, tugging his chin at the boxes now gathered on that shelf.
H'kon glance back to the shelf, and then returns his gaze to Reyce. A nod. "That," slight stress on the demonsrative pronoun, "is. There are only smaller things left." Right hand is lifted, left index probes right where the thumb joins the palm. An eyebrow twitches upward, but is quick to lie back down. Who may even see it, unless that glow is casting light just right on the brownrider's face.
The eyebrow goes unseen, glowlit or not, because Reyce is watching his feet as he pushes his weight off those shelves and straightens again. "You want any help," he offers, but again, does not press. Now that he's up, and H'kon's no longer bent under the weight of the box, it's clear he has several inches on the brownrider, which he's currently using to look over the other man's head with a considering, but not committed, glance at his abandoned glow and coat. In silent-speak, this seems to mean, 'Otherwise, I'll just go back over there.'
Strange but true, in the relative safety of darkened store rooms, H'kon is less concerned with trying to make himself big and tall; the brownrider stands easy. "It.. is not me you should be asking." Thumb joint receives another rub, and then hands are dropped to his belt, where fingertips are free to drum against the leather. "I am help, only."
"You're the one carrying it," Reyce answers easily, dropping his gaze to the brownrider. "Not enlisting or anything." He speaks the word 'enlisting' with the wary precision of someone who's not accustomed to using that kind of word in his speech, and does not trust its being there. "Just around." More comfortable with this, he lifts a hand in a vague wave towards his chest, then lets the hand - and the issue, if H'kon prefers - drop.
"Not any longer," H'kon points out. Fingers grow tired of drumming the belt, and cross over his chest. They manage to stay there a whole half a minute, and then drop so that thumbs can latch in his pockets. The placed box is given a final gander, and then he's stepping to the side. Toward the main 'hall' running between the aisles of shelves. "If I am in your way," comes as a means of excusing himself. Another sidelong step toward freer space.
Not any longer - Reyce acknowledges the truth of that with another grunt, and as timing would have it, happens to shove his hands into his pockets at about the same moment H'kon is latching onto his. "No," he answers the excuse plainly, but since there's no prospect of box lifting to keep him here, he sets off to rejoin his glowlit coat.
H'kon's face gets an awkward stretch - a smile, at least, the best impression of one that the man can do when not having it brought on automatically by some instinctive reaction to a sudden outward stimulus. "Ah," is replied to that dismissal. A moment is taken to watch the reunion of man and coat and glow, though already his lean hints toward a flight to the exit.
A flight which Reyce doesn't seem inclined to interrupt. He doesn't put on his jacket again, simply throwing it over his arm with a heavy rustle, but otherwise he resumes his search exactly as he was before H'kon's arrival: glowlight held up, labels inspected. Cautiously proceeding down the row.
Once the aisle is proven to be cleared, H'kon has nothing further keeping him. And so, with a nod of his head that Reyce is likely to miss, flight plans are put into action, and the rider has moved off toward an exit, either to be approached with further boxes to carry, or to find something else to occupy his time until duty calls.