A sensitive soul
8-14-2006 (Reyce, Natain, Roa, Khavn, Ginella):
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
This room may be +watched (+help watch).
Contents:
Natain
Obvious Exits:
Upper Caverns (UC) Lower Caverns (LC) Kitchen (K)
Infirmary (INF) Bowl (B)
The smell of cooking dinner has been tormenting the weyr today, odors of fresh fish and herbs wafting through the tunnels. As a result, the evening meal has drawn a large crowd, and the place is packed and noisy. Reyce, who came before the crowd, hasn't even tried to get dinner yet; what he he /has/ done is hold on to one of the few empty spots in the caverns, mostly by virtue of the fact that he has his feet up on the table, discouraging fellow diners from interrupting him while he reads from a book in his lap.
The smell was enough to torment Natain into falling into line for food, waiting it out like a real trooper with his plate in his hands and an eager look on his face. His food's a long time coming, eventually landing on his plate and giving him cause to dive out of the fray-- into another fray. Like a dorky kid in the cafeteria at lunchtime, he hasn't got a table full of friends, and his eyes naturally stray across an empty spot, raised feet notwithstanding. "'Scuse me."
Reyce frowns as the voice interrupts his concentration, holding up a finger to forestall any further comment. That finger soon moves down to the page, indicating his spot near the end of a paragraph, which it only takes him a few more seconds to finish. When he does, however, he looks up at Natain with a bland, unhelpful expression. "Yeah?" His feet stay where he's propped them.
Natain explains simply, "I need a place to sit." Balancing his plate, mug, and fork don't give him much room to gesture, but he manages a nod to indicate the feet propped up on the table-- the crux of the conversation. "And you seem to be using two at the moment, so I thought you might be obliged to share one," he goes on, pitching his voice full of good-natured request. The 'please' is implied in his tone and the quickly flashed smile.
Reyce looks at his feet when Natain nods at them, as if he hadn't noticed them there before. There's a pause, and then he twists his legs to the side in order to slide those feet off the table, letting them fall back to the ground with a thud. "Okay." Nevermind there was mud on his boots when he came in - a long time ago, to judge by the way it's caked - and that some of that has slipped into Natain's proposed spot: that can be wiped off, surely. Not by Reyce, who picks up a nearby napkin only to wedge it into his book as a pagemarker before slapping the volume closed. He keeps an eye on Natain as he does so, however, judging the other man's response.
Natain begs pardon of the person upon whose space he impinges as he sets his plate down wide of the muddy mark. With the flat of his arm, sleeve pulled up to be clear, he swipes the mud off the edge of the table, then repeats the performance to get the seat clear. It's not a perfect job, but it suffices for him to put his plate and his butt down in relative safety. "Thanks. It's packed in here," he informs, like Reyce could possibly have missed that fact for himself. "Sorry to interrupt." Now arranged, he uses his fork to point toward Reyce's book.
Reyce grunts at the redundant comment about the packed in place, not bothering to look around to confirm. His attention has shifted to the table, watching Natain brush off the mud and careful to shift himself away so none of it gets brushed onto him. "Doesn't matter," he says, flipping the book over in his palm. He winds up looking at the title, which reads in faded letters, _Geometrical Manifestations of Architecture_. "Getting too loud to read anyway."
Natain does not attempt to read the title. In fact, he doesn't so much as glance at the book again now that he's made the requiste apology for interrupting it. "Guess dinner time'd do that," he replies conversationally, not /quite/ as bland in tone as he might be discussing the weather. "Don't they have better places for trying to read?" As he cuts his fish with the edge of his fork, he remembers, "Oh, I'm Natain, by the way."
Reyce's gaze tracks up to Natain, considering him with a squint. "Reyce." He keeps an eye on Natain's features, but doesn't give him much time to respond to the name, continuing with disinterest, as though he felt obliged to speak, "Not on a day like this. Rain keeps everyone inside so all the quiet spots are full. That fish any good?" He makes no effort to segue between comments, just yanks a free thumb at Natain's plate. The book, in his other hand, gets turned back around and placed on his lap.
Natain must have incredible conversational patience. A life on the road'll do that to a guy? "All the loud spots're full, too." He chuckles at his own weak joke, using a bite of bread to emphasize the transition between one thought and the other. Shotgun chit-chat requires nibbles. "Damn good. Not usually one for fish myself, but this's got like-- some plants on it." He scrapes some of them off with a tine of his fork, nodding: "Yep. Plants. Herbs. And butter." With bread to sop it up. "Good eats."
Reyce is certainly trying out Natain's conversational patience, because he doesn't seem amused by the joke: his eyebrows go up and that's all. "Okay." He twists in his seat, casting a look over his shoulder at the people lined up to get that fish. After considering it for a moment - long, but not as long as the one Natain had to wait in, now that the first rush has died off - he turns back to the other man and frowns at him. "You gonna be here a while?"
Whatever. Natain thinks he's funny, so there. "Probably," he answers vaguely, looking down at the plate. He's making considerable headway there, but he's not rushing through this particular meal. Bread, fish, vegetable, drink, probably dessert to follow if he can get ahold of it-- he's got at least twenty minutes worth of eating if he keeps picking up conversation. With a mouthful of food shoved into the corner of his cheek, he asks, "Want me to hold your seat?"
Reyce just nods, his attention already shifting back to the line. "Yeah." He gets up, eager to join the line while it's still relatively short, but he doesn't leave the table right away. As he's pulling another napkin towards him, to set under his book (and protect it from any of the dirt on the table), he says, "This, too. Can get you something else while I'm up there." It's as close to a polite offer as Reyce ever gets, despite the gruffness of his tone.
Natain looks at the book a second, pulling his lips to a thoughtful purse-- mentally weighing the responsibility involved in monitoring both chair and book. "Right. That, too," he agrees with a brisk nod. "Uh, yeah, since you're offering. They had this pudding. Thing." He leans his fork on the edge of the plate where he's having some dinner, near where Reyce has just stood up, indicating about the size of a single-serving bowl. "With some kind of crust on top of it. Thanks."
Reyce's hand lingers on the book, as if he, too, is reluctant to entrust this responsibility for someone else. He only has two hands, though, and no pockets large enough to stuff that book in, so eventually he has to give it up. "Pudding," he confirms. "Right." With that, he's off to the end of the line, cutting it neatly so he arrives just moments before a small group arrives from the bowl. There to wait and to fetch pudding.
The soggy spring evening admits yet one more into the crush of people. Well, two, actually. The first is the slight, dark-haired Telgari who happens to be knotless just now. Trailing a few feet behind her is a stocky middle-aged man who moves into the room, eyeing the crowd and moving a bit closer to the girl. He wears the knot of a Reaches guard. Roa does the bustling room dance, weaving here and there, until she finds herself at the end of the line. Right behind Reyce, as luck would have it.
Natain 'absently' pushes some lingering flecks of dried mud away from the edge of his plate toward the edge of Reyce's book while the other man's off on an errand. The little nuggets never touch the book, but they come close. Alone, nursing a book that's not his and a seat he's not occupying, he turns briefly to the woman next to him with a friendly smile and a request to pass the butter. In short, he does the very dull dinner deal.
The crowd gathered in the Living Caverns takes Khavn aback for a moment, surprised to see this many people. The Harper Journeyman pushes his way through the crowd, one hand helping to clear his way while the other clutches tightly to a small satchel. "Hello. Yes, yes...I'll be performing later, I assure you. But no one performs well on an empty stomach, wouldn't you say?" he says cheerily to those who recognize his knot and his flamboyant clothing. "Excuse me." He insinuates himself into the line, behind Roa and Reyce.
Reyce is oblivious. Roa and the guard that's with her prompts some murmured discussion among some of their fellow linemates, but Reyce pays no attention to the murmurs; he wants food, and that's it. He doesn't, in fact, even turn around until he's at the front of the line, stocked up with both fish and pudding, and about to walk away from the serving table. Then he nearly steps on the little goldrider, catching himself more because he notices the guard than because he sees her. Looking down, with belated realization, he says, "Uh. Roa." Her one-man entourage earns a careful, appraising look before Reyce decides not to hang around, and heads back to his seat. He plops the pudding down by Natain's plate. "That the thing?"
An yes, the one-man entourage. The way Roa has her head down and a determinedly stoic look on her face, one can only assume that the folks muttering aren't the only ones who'd rather the guard wasn't here. The man crosses his arms and looks mildly uncomfortable in return, but holds his ground. He even takes a warning step forward as Roa is nearly plowed into. "Oh. Reyce, hello," is offered by the girl, but the Bendenite is already going. So it's to the fish and vegetables and a mug of juice. The guard, Cavel, trails behind and selects some eats of his own. The red haired harper man that just stepped into line is also awarded a wordless glance from the guard.
Natain tunes in for a time to what's going on at the line, alerted by the rise in volume over there but completely unaware what it's all about. He's happy to be distracted by the arrival of his pudding, flashing Reyce a gorgeous smile-- which would probably have more effect if Reyce wasn't a guy. "That's the one. Thanks. --The woman over there wanted to know why I cared about the geometry magnificence of architecture?" Just before he pulls his pudding closer, he points to the book.
Khavn gives the guard a warm smile, as well as a curious look. A half-shrug and a throwaway sort of gesture that says 'Hey, people will be people, it's not your fault.' He fills his plate with a smattering of vegetables and a bit of the fish; surprisingly little food for a man his size. "Guardsman." He greets cheerfully, directing his attention towards the guard's charge. "Ma'am. Might I beg a place to sit at your table? It seems a trifle crowded in here, and you seem to have the perfect man for crowd control." he says jocularly.
Reyce shoots a glance at the indicated woman, but she's just picking up her tray and leaving - no need to pursue her with a glare, so he turns it on his book. Yep, he left that title facing up, didn't he. "Beats me," he says flatly, setting his tray down to the side of the book. "Why do you?" The man on his other side, into whose space that tray has invaded, objects - "Hey, buddy!" - but his indignation is quickly soothed by a woman sitting across from him. All to the good, since Reyce ignores him and sits down.
Cavel, the guard, offers Khavn a half-smile for the half-shug. A sort of discreet you-seem-to-understand-what-I'm-up-against look. Roa is working on carefully balancing her tray as she's addressed more directly. She looks up and over, down to her tray, and then up and over again, blinking at the tall new face with the red hair. "Oh. I...well, when I find a table, you're welcome to join me. I'm Roa. Are you...that is, I've never...have you been at Reaches long?" As she speaks, she's scooting along, the press of the line insisting on her continued movement.
"Haven't that figured that out," answers Natain with a rough chuckle. He's still working on his carrots, which take a lot longer to get through than the fish did. Flavor first! "That was a clever way of askin' what you're reading, by the way. You don't seem real talky? So I thought I'd fill that in for you." For all that there's criticism in there, he covers it with a cordial-seeming smile, one that extends on to the irritated guy on Reyce's other side.
"Khavn, of Harperhall." he proclaims, sweeping his half-cloak to one side with as grandiose a bow as one can manage while holding a tray in one hand. "I've just been posted to High Reaches. I arrived earlier this afternoon." he explains, snagging a redfruit for himself. "I take it, then, that you're a long-time resident? Perhaps I might prevail upon you to help me settle in. Show me around, get to know some of the more scenic spots in the area..." he says invitingly, with a charming smile.
Reyce grunts, ignoring the cordial smile as he picks up his silverware and starts cutting off a bite of fish. For a while, it seems that he'll ignore the words, as well, but it turns out he just has priorities: he wants to know how the fish tastes, then he can talk a little. While his right hand cuts off a second piece, his left reaches for the book, flipping it open to the marked page and then flipping back till he finds a series of number-riddled diagrams. "Talking about the way the math in the architecture can be used to make a point." His finger slides up to one of the less complicated diagrams, labeled 'Benden: Lord's Foyer.' "This one I've seen. Whole room looks level, but if you do the measurements the floor tilts to one side." The flow of words stops short as he takes in the next bite of fish.
Roa keeps walking, Cavel keeping close but moving to the side a bit to allow this harper-man to continue to keep pace. She's listening with one ear while looking around for a seat, and noting a trio of empty ones (well, two are empty and there's a man who seems about to rise) over at Reyce's table, she begins to move that way. "Well met, Khavn of Harperhall. I've been here about a turn," she agrees easily. "I suppose I know the ins and outs of the Weyr by now. I'm sure a tour could be arranged." Her own smile, returned to him, is demure but not precisely fluttery or blushing.
Natain begins, "Well, couldn't you just--" Chewing hastily, he manages to clear his mouth before the question gets too far along. "Couldn't you just let a marble roll across the floor and figure out if it was level or not?" Index finger sliding across the table top seems to indicate the idea of a marble rolling. Somehow. With his eyes on the book, though glazed in thorough non-comprehension, he adds, "Seems like that'd save a lot of ink, anyways." Again, he amuses himself if no one else.
Khavn catches a snippet from the conversation at the nearby table. "Well, yes, but don't they keep the paintings on one side of the room slightly smaller than the ones on the other side, to keep the illusion of proportion?" he chimes in on Reyce's conversation as he walks over. "I was there last Turn, and someone was explaining that to me." A clatter of dishware as he hurriedly sets his tray down to free up his hands to pull Roa's chair out for her. "I would be delighted, Roa. And you can bring your friend along as well." he cheerfully includes Cavel.
Reyce gives Natain a withering look for the suggestion, snapping the book closed as his fingers draw back from it. "It's not that tilted. Floor's got carpet so the friction -" he pauses, narrowing his eyes at Khavn, and pulls the book off the table. "It's not that tiled," he says again. "You wouldn't notice without some way of measuring, so whoever was explaining that to you had it wrong." He snaps the answer as he settles the book in on his lap, then goes to cut up his fish some more. Roa and her guard get wary looks, but no second greeting.
Natain's having a hard time with this whole subject, the knit of his eyebrows deepening when Khavn interjects about the paintings. "Why go to all that trouble when they could just level the floor?" Like it's that easy. "I think I'm gonna take my pudding-- somewhere else. With level floors. So someone else can have my chair." At which point he stands up, looking over his shoudler toward the woman Khavn had been chatting with on the way over.
Roa was just starting to shift her own tray to pull out her own chair when...oh...it seems to be pulled out for her. There's an expressionless glance over at the harper and then the girl accepts the seat, setting her tray down as Cavel seats himself on the opposite side of her. "Good evening," Roa offers again to Reyce, and then a nod hello in the direction of Natain since he seems to be having some sort of discussion with the Blooded man. "Why did they do it, then?" Roa queries "the tilted floor? What it intentional or an error?"
"Well, she was a bit of an airhead. And had a bit of a squint in one eye." Khavn admits cheerfully to Reyce, unoffended by the man's brusque correction. "Roa here looks to be much more the reliable and intelligent sort." This is accompanied by scooting her chair in for her before he seats himself. "I take it you're originally from Benden, then? Khavn, of Harperhall." he introduces himself once more, to Reyce and to Natain. "Is the floor here notably slanted, then?" he asks in slight bemusement, eyeing Natain's pudding. "The tables certainly don't seem any more rickety than they are elsewhere."
Reyce sends Natain off with a snort, not even bothering to raise his eyes from his food. He's starting to go after the vegetables, but upon tasting the first one - and realizing too late that it's cooked, not fresh, he grimaces and gives that up. "Intentional," he tells Roa shortly, though his eyes are on Khavn. He doesn't return the harper's introduction, just watches him talk. When he's finished, Reyce explains further: "It screws with your balance when you're in there." His eyes return to the goldrider, and he shrugs. "If you're not asked to sit. If you're standing, you notice just enough that something seems off, but the room /looks/ level so you wouldn't suspect."
Natain, to Khavn, "You'd have to do the math to find out, I guess." Shrugging, he loads up his dirty dishes in one hand, shoving a clean spoon into the crust of his pudding and holding that in the other hand. "G'night." With that, he wanders off to find some less erudite conversation over which to have his dessert.
Natain ventures down the long tunnel that leads to the lower caverns.
Natain has left.
"You can tell that can you," Roa muses dryly in Khavn's direction, "by my lack of squinting?" Cavel is not one for conversing or for the Blooded or the crafters or titled riders for that matter. Cavel is for doing his job and, at the moment, for shoveling food into his mouth at a brisk rate. The knotless Telgari, on the other hand, spears a bit of cooked vegetable and chews it. She swallows before asking of Reyce, "so it was intentionally constructed to unsettle guests?" Her brows lift and then lower again as she silently digests the information even as a bit of fish is cut and chewed and sent on towards digestion of a different sort. Natain's departure is offered a nod, but no words. Her mouth is full and she's been taking etiquette lessons.
"How diabolical." Khavn remarks, shrugging off Reyce's disregard with a calm smile, though there's a slight glitter in his eyes, quickly hidden, that says that he'll be remembering this. "I'm usually a pretty good judge of character. I knew that woman was a bit squiggly, but I wasn't about to say so to her face, lovely and squinty as it was. You, on the other hand, seem forthright and knowledgable." A friendly lift of his brows, and he's cutting his own food into small, bite-sized pieces, eating them neatly bit by bit.
Ginella enters from the bowl outside.
Ginella has arrived.
Reyce occupies himself pushing all those cooked vegetables off to the side of his plate, lest they infect the rest of his food. "Yeah," he answers Roa. Simple question, simple answer. Reyce looks ready to drop the subject entirely, brooding over his fish.
Long distance to Ginella: Reyce hisses. It wantses to take the preciousss, but we will not lets it.
Ginella pages: I knew it! I knew you were suspiciously grey and fond of muck!
Roa sits with Reyce, Khavn, and the guard Cavel amid a crush of other people. It's fish for dinner tonight, and the living caverns is packed to, heh, the gills. Spare seats are few and far between and the line to the food is rather long. The Telgari is knotless tonight and she's cutting up a bit of fish. "Knolwedgeable and forthright. I see. And Reyce, then?" Her chin tips towards the sullen Bastard. "What do your enhanced character reading skills tell you of him?"
Khavn takes the excuse of washing down his latest bite with a chaser of juice, and dabbing delicately at his lips to buy him time to think. "Well. Deep down, I'm sure he's a sensitive soul, injured by the world and circumstance, and who would love nothing better than just to be left alone. Either that or a man who really doesn't like the fish. That would be a crying shame, though, because this is quite excellent fish." he volunteers cheerfully. "He strikes me as quite knowledgeable as well, though, assuming one could get him to open up. A veritable fount of knowledge."
Ginella is on her own this evening, and forced to find her own seating, not quite willing to brave 1C's table without T'ral. The crush of the cavern has left her with few choices, and she drifts around the room, several times aiming for a chair only to see it stolen away by someone closer. Finally, she gets shoved off in a direction, and finds herself in front of an empty chair, which she grabs immediately, only afterwards looking up to check her tablemates. "Oh, hello, Roa," she greets the goldrider cheerfully. Reyce does not elicit quite the same reaction: just a polite nod, "Reyce." Without her riding leathers or jacket, she's also knotless as she turns to smile politely at Khavn. "Hello. Hope I'm not intruding on you all? No other seats."
Reyce looks up at his name, glancing from Roa to Khavn. Expressionless, he just keeps chowing down on the fish while the harper explains his character, and at the end of it gives Roa a smirking look, not at all kind. "There you go," he murmurs: one of those unsettling quiets. "I'm a sensitive soul, deep down." This is about the same moment as Ginella's arrival, so he turns that look on her, eyeing her for a while before he answers her nodded greeting with a small arch of his brows. He's already lost interest by the time she asks about seats, and has turned back to his food.
Roa mmms faintly. The smirk that is returned to Reyce has none of that deadly cool. "At least now we know." She looks up and over as Ginella arrives and her smile relaxes into something more open. "Evening Ginella. It's sort of squashed in here, isn't it. This is Khavn of Harper. Fresh off the dragon, I think. Khavn can determine your innermost personality by whether or not your eyes squint." Cut fish, add veggies, chew.
Sheesh, all the goldriders seem to be knotless today, leaving Khavn with no idea who he's /really/ talking to. Not that it would change his behavior all that much, really. "Not at all, have a seat. Our friend just left, citing issues with his pudding not being level." he waves to the chair across from him, directly a warm smile at Ginella. "It's true. I have wondrous powers of seeing the bad apples through their squiggly eyes. But don't worry, I've sworn never to use these powers in the service of evil." He turns to Reyce while tugging absently at his own goatee. "That's good to know. Because that means you like the fish, and if you didn't, I would have to sic the cooks on you." He essays to give Reyce a friendly pat on the back. "
Ginella seems used to Reyce's looks. This isn't to say that it isn't still mildly unsettling, just that she ignores him, looking down at her meal. It appears someone has caught her a delicious bass. Or something like that. She looks up from it, whatever it is, to smile politely at Khavn. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she greets him, "I'm Ginella. Aneleth's, from Benden. I hadn't realized squinty eyes gave away a squiggly soul. I'll have to start opening mine wider," she jokes, making her eyes as big as possible.
Reyce has not been watching Khavn, but he detects movement out of the corner of his eye and turns his head just in time to see that attempted back pat. Attempted it will have to remain, for the Bendenite winces towards the table, his shoulders drawn down tightly, at the same moment his right arm swings back to intercept Khavn's and push him away. His hand also snaps into a fist, but he doesn't use it - just leaves the arm poised in the air, frozen in the motion of fending off backpats, and meets the harper's eye with a narrowed gaze. Conversation with the knotless goldriders now forgotten, he snarls, "Don't." And leaves it there.
Roa chews quietly until the almost backpat and the sudden jerk away. Her eyebrows lift and chewing stops. Cavel, who was nearly finished with his food anyhow, snaps to attention. "Easy there," he mutters, looking between Reyce and the Harper. "Simmer it down, gents."
"I wouldn't object to that. You have such lovely eyes, after all." Khavn responds easily, with a friendly wink. "I would say, judging from your eyes, that you've a lovely soul, and that you're very surprised all the time." he jokes back. His friendly backpat to Reyce is aborted halfway as his hand is suddenly slapped away. As the other hand snaps into a fist, Khavn immediately jumps to his feet, knocking his chair over and bumping into the table, hands spread in front of himself placatingly. "Whoa there, sir. I hadn't realized you bruise so easily. I assure you, I wash my hands regularly. But I'll remember to keep my hands off you. And warn the ladies to do the same." he adds, unable to resist the dig.
Ginella flushes at Khavn, and shakes her head a bit, then laughs as he goes on. "/All/ the time!" she replies, eyes big, putting on a flakely voice remeniscent of some of her Caucus classmates, "How did you know?!?" She grins and returns her face and voice to normal, getting exactly one bite of fish in before she has to grab her plate to save it from crashing. "Whoa..." she murmurs, frowning at Reyce. Khavn seems to take it well, though, and she can't help but smile faintly at his dig.
Reyce makes no effort to pursue Khavn once he's backed off, only his eyes following the harper's retreat. The dig gets a scornful little twitch of Reyce's lip, but he soon looks back to Cavel. The fist vanishes, both of his hands raising with fingers spread up: I'm done, that gesture says. He goes back to cutting up his fish as if nothing happened, not even bothering to speed up the rate at which he eats it - of course, he's almost done, so there's really no point. A few people around the table, startled by the sound of Khavn's falling chair, are now watching the scene and muttering amongst themselves; Reyce ignores them just as much as he ignores his immediate tablemates.
Roa has lowered her eyes and seems to be quite focused on eating. She's only gotten through about half the fish and the same amount of vegetables, but the girl pushes back from the table a bit suddenly and stands. Which causes Cavel to stand. "Pardon me. I have to...well, if you'll excuse me. Have a good evening Reyce, Ginella. Nice to have met you Khavn," She's picking up her tray and heading towards the place to deposit it. After snagging up a crusty breadroll from his own tray, the guard follows.
"No problems, friends. Just a little bit of a disagreement over the fish." Khavn explains to the surrounding gawkers, eliciting a chuckle from them. He retrieves his chair, setting it upright and settles back into it--pointedly, though, with his back as much towards Reyce as the table will allow. Reseating himself, he resumes his meal. "Now, I'm sorry, where were we? Ah, yes, surprises. As you can see, I'm not terribly fond of them. I much prefer to be on the giving end." He gives Roa a half-salute of sorts. "Though never let it be said that I am an ungracious reciever. I look forwards to that tour." he waves at Roa's retreating form.
Roa passes into the tunnel that leads to the bowl.
Roa has left.
Ginella looks up as Roa suddenly excuses herself, looking genuinely surprised but turning it quickly to a smile. "Alright. See you around, Roa." She gives the goldrider a little wave, then turns back to resettling her plate on the table. She lets Khavn talk as she eats a little, finally letting a polite silence pass before asking: "Have you been posted here, Harper, or are you just passing through?"
Reyce finishes the last bites of his meal. Unlike Roa, he makes no effort to excuse himself; pressing his book under his elbow, he simply picks up the tray and walks off.
Living Cavern
Large enough to hold the majority of the Weyr's human population, this cavern can become loud enough to deafen thanks to the acoustics caused by its size. The ceiling is so far overhead that it's cast into shadow, a darkness that is broken only by the spark and glitter of a lucky beam of light striking the minerals found in the rock walls. Below, most of the floor is covered with an assortment of long tables and benches. There are some smaller tables, surrounded by chairs, but privacy appears to be a rare thing in this bustling cavern. Large hearths line the west wall, with fires burning day and night to warm the food and drink that keep the Weyr's inhabitants fueled. The serving tables are near the hearth, opposite the dais that holds the single table reserved for the Weyr leadership and honored guests.
This room may be +watched (+help watch).
Contents:
Natain
Obvious Exits:
Upper Caverns (UC) Lower Caverns (LC) Kitchen (K)
Infirmary (INF) Bowl (B)
The smell of cooking dinner has been tormenting the weyr today, odors of fresh fish and herbs wafting through the tunnels. As a result, the evening meal has drawn a large crowd, and the place is packed and noisy. Reyce, who came before the crowd, hasn't even tried to get dinner yet; what he he /has/ done is hold on to one of the few empty spots in the caverns, mostly by virtue of the fact that he has his feet up on the table, discouraging fellow diners from interrupting him while he reads from a book in his lap.
The smell was enough to torment Natain into falling into line for food, waiting it out like a real trooper with his plate in his hands and an eager look on his face. His food's a long time coming, eventually landing on his plate and giving him cause to dive out of the fray-- into another fray. Like a dorky kid in the cafeteria at lunchtime, he hasn't got a table full of friends, and his eyes naturally stray across an empty spot, raised feet notwithstanding. "'Scuse me."
Reyce frowns as the voice interrupts his concentration, holding up a finger to forestall any further comment. That finger soon moves down to the page, indicating his spot near the end of a paragraph, which it only takes him a few more seconds to finish. When he does, however, he looks up at Natain with a bland, unhelpful expression. "Yeah?" His feet stay where he's propped them.
Natain explains simply, "I need a place to sit." Balancing his plate, mug, and fork don't give him much room to gesture, but he manages a nod to indicate the feet propped up on the table-- the crux of the conversation. "And you seem to be using two at the moment, so I thought you might be obliged to share one," he goes on, pitching his voice full of good-natured request. The 'please' is implied in his tone and the quickly flashed smile.
Reyce looks at his feet when Natain nods at them, as if he hadn't noticed them there before. There's a pause, and then he twists his legs to the side in order to slide those feet off the table, letting them fall back to the ground with a thud. "Okay." Nevermind there was mud on his boots when he came in - a long time ago, to judge by the way it's caked - and that some of that has slipped into Natain's proposed spot: that can be wiped off, surely. Not by Reyce, who picks up a nearby napkin only to wedge it into his book as a pagemarker before slapping the volume closed. He keeps an eye on Natain as he does so, however, judging the other man's response.
Natain begs pardon of the person upon whose space he impinges as he sets his plate down wide of the muddy mark. With the flat of his arm, sleeve pulled up to be clear, he swipes the mud off the edge of the table, then repeats the performance to get the seat clear. It's not a perfect job, but it suffices for him to put his plate and his butt down in relative safety. "Thanks. It's packed in here," he informs, like Reyce could possibly have missed that fact for himself. "Sorry to interrupt." Now arranged, he uses his fork to point toward Reyce's book.
Reyce grunts at the redundant comment about the packed in place, not bothering to look around to confirm. His attention has shifted to the table, watching Natain brush off the mud and careful to shift himself away so none of it gets brushed onto him. "Doesn't matter," he says, flipping the book over in his palm. He winds up looking at the title, which reads in faded letters, _Geometrical Manifestations of Architecture_. "Getting too loud to read anyway."
Natain does not attempt to read the title. In fact, he doesn't so much as glance at the book again now that he's made the requiste apology for interrupting it. "Guess dinner time'd do that," he replies conversationally, not /quite/ as bland in tone as he might be discussing the weather. "Don't they have better places for trying to read?" As he cuts his fish with the edge of his fork, he remembers, "Oh, I'm Natain, by the way."
Reyce's gaze tracks up to Natain, considering him with a squint. "Reyce." He keeps an eye on Natain's features, but doesn't give him much time to respond to the name, continuing with disinterest, as though he felt obliged to speak, "Not on a day like this. Rain keeps everyone inside so all the quiet spots are full. That fish any good?" He makes no effort to segue between comments, just yanks a free thumb at Natain's plate. The book, in his other hand, gets turned back around and placed on his lap.
Natain must have incredible conversational patience. A life on the road'll do that to a guy? "All the loud spots're full, too." He chuckles at his own weak joke, using a bite of bread to emphasize the transition between one thought and the other. Shotgun chit-chat requires nibbles. "Damn good. Not usually one for fish myself, but this's got like-- some plants on it." He scrapes some of them off with a tine of his fork, nodding: "Yep. Plants. Herbs. And butter." With bread to sop it up. "Good eats."
Reyce is certainly trying out Natain's conversational patience, because he doesn't seem amused by the joke: his eyebrows go up and that's all. "Okay." He twists in his seat, casting a look over his shoulder at the people lined up to get that fish. After considering it for a moment - long, but not as long as the one Natain had to wait in, now that the first rush has died off - he turns back to the other man and frowns at him. "You gonna be here a while?"
Whatever. Natain thinks he's funny, so there. "Probably," he answers vaguely, looking down at the plate. He's making considerable headway there, but he's not rushing through this particular meal. Bread, fish, vegetable, drink, probably dessert to follow if he can get ahold of it-- he's got at least twenty minutes worth of eating if he keeps picking up conversation. With a mouthful of food shoved into the corner of his cheek, he asks, "Want me to hold your seat?"
Reyce just nods, his attention already shifting back to the line. "Yeah." He gets up, eager to join the line while it's still relatively short, but he doesn't leave the table right away. As he's pulling another napkin towards him, to set under his book (and protect it from any of the dirt on the table), he says, "This, too. Can get you something else while I'm up there." It's as close to a polite offer as Reyce ever gets, despite the gruffness of his tone.
Natain looks at the book a second, pulling his lips to a thoughtful purse-- mentally weighing the responsibility involved in monitoring both chair and book. "Right. That, too," he agrees with a brisk nod. "Uh, yeah, since you're offering. They had this pudding. Thing." He leans his fork on the edge of the plate where he's having some dinner, near where Reyce has just stood up, indicating about the size of a single-serving bowl. "With some kind of crust on top of it. Thanks."
Reyce's hand lingers on the book, as if he, too, is reluctant to entrust this responsibility for someone else. He only has two hands, though, and no pockets large enough to stuff that book in, so eventually he has to give it up. "Pudding," he confirms. "Right." With that, he's off to the end of the line, cutting it neatly so he arrives just moments before a small group arrives from the bowl. There to wait and to fetch pudding.
The soggy spring evening admits yet one more into the crush of people. Well, two, actually. The first is the slight, dark-haired Telgari who happens to be knotless just now. Trailing a few feet behind her is a stocky middle-aged man who moves into the room, eyeing the crowd and moving a bit closer to the girl. He wears the knot of a Reaches guard. Roa does the bustling room dance, weaving here and there, until she finds herself at the end of the line. Right behind Reyce, as luck would have it.
Natain 'absently' pushes some lingering flecks of dried mud away from the edge of his plate toward the edge of Reyce's book while the other man's off on an errand. The little nuggets never touch the book, but they come close. Alone, nursing a book that's not his and a seat he's not occupying, he turns briefly to the woman next to him with a friendly smile and a request to pass the butter. In short, he does the very dull dinner deal.
The crowd gathered in the Living Caverns takes Khavn aback for a moment, surprised to see this many people. The Harper Journeyman pushes his way through the crowd, one hand helping to clear his way while the other clutches tightly to a small satchel. "Hello. Yes, yes...I'll be performing later, I assure you. But no one performs well on an empty stomach, wouldn't you say?" he says cheerily to those who recognize his knot and his flamboyant clothing. "Excuse me." He insinuates himself into the line, behind Roa and Reyce.
Reyce is oblivious. Roa and the guard that's with her prompts some murmured discussion among some of their fellow linemates, but Reyce pays no attention to the murmurs; he wants food, and that's it. He doesn't, in fact, even turn around until he's at the front of the line, stocked up with both fish and pudding, and about to walk away from the serving table. Then he nearly steps on the little goldrider, catching himself more because he notices the guard than because he sees her. Looking down, with belated realization, he says, "Uh. Roa." Her one-man entourage earns a careful, appraising look before Reyce decides not to hang around, and heads back to his seat. He plops the pudding down by Natain's plate. "That the thing?"
An yes, the one-man entourage. The way Roa has her head down and a determinedly stoic look on her face, one can only assume that the folks muttering aren't the only ones who'd rather the guard wasn't here. The man crosses his arms and looks mildly uncomfortable in return, but holds his ground. He even takes a warning step forward as Roa is nearly plowed into. "Oh. Reyce, hello," is offered by the girl, but the Bendenite is already going. So it's to the fish and vegetables and a mug of juice. The guard, Cavel, trails behind and selects some eats of his own. The red haired harper man that just stepped into line is also awarded a wordless glance from the guard.
Natain tunes in for a time to what's going on at the line, alerted by the rise in volume over there but completely unaware what it's all about. He's happy to be distracted by the arrival of his pudding, flashing Reyce a gorgeous smile-- which would probably have more effect if Reyce wasn't a guy. "That's the one. Thanks. --The woman over there wanted to know why I cared about the geometry magnificence of architecture?" Just before he pulls his pudding closer, he points to the book.
Khavn gives the guard a warm smile, as well as a curious look. A half-shrug and a throwaway sort of gesture that says 'Hey, people will be people, it's not your fault.' He fills his plate with a smattering of vegetables and a bit of the fish; surprisingly little food for a man his size. "Guardsman." He greets cheerfully, directing his attention towards the guard's charge. "Ma'am. Might I beg a place to sit at your table? It seems a trifle crowded in here, and you seem to have the perfect man for crowd control." he says jocularly.
Reyce shoots a glance at the indicated woman, but she's just picking up her tray and leaving - no need to pursue her with a glare, so he turns it on his book. Yep, he left that title facing up, didn't he. "Beats me," he says flatly, setting his tray down to the side of the book. "Why do you?" The man on his other side, into whose space that tray has invaded, objects - "Hey, buddy!" - but his indignation is quickly soothed by a woman sitting across from him. All to the good, since Reyce ignores him and sits down.
Cavel, the guard, offers Khavn a half-smile for the half-shug. A sort of discreet you-seem-to-understand-what-I'm-up-against look. Roa is working on carefully balancing her tray as she's addressed more directly. She looks up and over, down to her tray, and then up and over again, blinking at the tall new face with the red hair. "Oh. I...well, when I find a table, you're welcome to join me. I'm Roa. Are you...that is, I've never...have you been at Reaches long?" As she speaks, she's scooting along, the press of the line insisting on her continued movement.
"Haven't that figured that out," answers Natain with a rough chuckle. He's still working on his carrots, which take a lot longer to get through than the fish did. Flavor first! "That was a clever way of askin' what you're reading, by the way. You don't seem real talky? So I thought I'd fill that in for you." For all that there's criticism in there, he covers it with a cordial-seeming smile, one that extends on to the irritated guy on Reyce's other side.
"Khavn, of Harperhall." he proclaims, sweeping his half-cloak to one side with as grandiose a bow as one can manage while holding a tray in one hand. "I've just been posted to High Reaches. I arrived earlier this afternoon." he explains, snagging a redfruit for himself. "I take it, then, that you're a long-time resident? Perhaps I might prevail upon you to help me settle in. Show me around, get to know some of the more scenic spots in the area..." he says invitingly, with a charming smile.
Reyce grunts, ignoring the cordial smile as he picks up his silverware and starts cutting off a bite of fish. For a while, it seems that he'll ignore the words, as well, but it turns out he just has priorities: he wants to know how the fish tastes, then he can talk a little. While his right hand cuts off a second piece, his left reaches for the book, flipping it open to the marked page and then flipping back till he finds a series of number-riddled diagrams. "Talking about the way the math in the architecture can be used to make a point." His finger slides up to one of the less complicated diagrams, labeled 'Benden: Lord's Foyer.' "This one I've seen. Whole room looks level, but if you do the measurements the floor tilts to one side." The flow of words stops short as he takes in the next bite of fish.
Roa keeps walking, Cavel keeping close but moving to the side a bit to allow this harper-man to continue to keep pace. She's listening with one ear while looking around for a seat, and noting a trio of empty ones (well, two are empty and there's a man who seems about to rise) over at Reyce's table, she begins to move that way. "Well met, Khavn of Harperhall. I've been here about a turn," she agrees easily. "I suppose I know the ins and outs of the Weyr by now. I'm sure a tour could be arranged." Her own smile, returned to him, is demure but not precisely fluttery or blushing.
Natain begins, "Well, couldn't you just--" Chewing hastily, he manages to clear his mouth before the question gets too far along. "Couldn't you just let a marble roll across the floor and figure out if it was level or not?" Index finger sliding across the table top seems to indicate the idea of a marble rolling. Somehow. With his eyes on the book, though glazed in thorough non-comprehension, he adds, "Seems like that'd save a lot of ink, anyways." Again, he amuses himself if no one else.
Khavn catches a snippet from the conversation at the nearby table. "Well, yes, but don't they keep the paintings on one side of the room slightly smaller than the ones on the other side, to keep the illusion of proportion?" he chimes in on Reyce's conversation as he walks over. "I was there last Turn, and someone was explaining that to me." A clatter of dishware as he hurriedly sets his tray down to free up his hands to pull Roa's chair out for her. "I would be delighted, Roa. And you can bring your friend along as well." he cheerfully includes Cavel.
Reyce gives Natain a withering look for the suggestion, snapping the book closed as his fingers draw back from it. "It's not that tilted. Floor's got carpet so the friction -" he pauses, narrowing his eyes at Khavn, and pulls the book off the table. "It's not that tiled," he says again. "You wouldn't notice without some way of measuring, so whoever was explaining that to you had it wrong." He snaps the answer as he settles the book in on his lap, then goes to cut up his fish some more. Roa and her guard get wary looks, but no second greeting.
Natain's having a hard time with this whole subject, the knit of his eyebrows deepening when Khavn interjects about the paintings. "Why go to all that trouble when they could just level the floor?" Like it's that easy. "I think I'm gonna take my pudding-- somewhere else. With level floors. So someone else can have my chair." At which point he stands up, looking over his shoudler toward the woman Khavn had been chatting with on the way over.
Roa was just starting to shift her own tray to pull out her own chair when...oh...it seems to be pulled out for her. There's an expressionless glance over at the harper and then the girl accepts the seat, setting her tray down as Cavel seats himself on the opposite side of her. "Good evening," Roa offers again to Reyce, and then a nod hello in the direction of Natain since he seems to be having some sort of discussion with the Blooded man. "Why did they do it, then?" Roa queries "the tilted floor? What it intentional or an error?"
"Well, she was a bit of an airhead. And had a bit of a squint in one eye." Khavn admits cheerfully to Reyce, unoffended by the man's brusque correction. "Roa here looks to be much more the reliable and intelligent sort." This is accompanied by scooting her chair in for her before he seats himself. "I take it you're originally from Benden, then? Khavn, of Harperhall." he introduces himself once more, to Reyce and to Natain. "Is the floor here notably slanted, then?" he asks in slight bemusement, eyeing Natain's pudding. "The tables certainly don't seem any more rickety than they are elsewhere."
Reyce sends Natain off with a snort, not even bothering to raise his eyes from his food. He's starting to go after the vegetables, but upon tasting the first one - and realizing too late that it's cooked, not fresh, he grimaces and gives that up. "Intentional," he tells Roa shortly, though his eyes are on Khavn. He doesn't return the harper's introduction, just watches him talk. When he's finished, Reyce explains further: "It screws with your balance when you're in there." His eyes return to the goldrider, and he shrugs. "If you're not asked to sit. If you're standing, you notice just enough that something seems off, but the room /looks/ level so you wouldn't suspect."
Natain, to Khavn, "You'd have to do the math to find out, I guess." Shrugging, he loads up his dirty dishes in one hand, shoving a clean spoon into the crust of his pudding and holding that in the other hand. "G'night." With that, he wanders off to find some less erudite conversation over which to have his dessert.
Natain ventures down the long tunnel that leads to the lower caverns.
Natain has left.
"You can tell that can you," Roa muses dryly in Khavn's direction, "by my lack of squinting?" Cavel is not one for conversing or for the Blooded or the crafters or titled riders for that matter. Cavel is for doing his job and, at the moment, for shoveling food into his mouth at a brisk rate. The knotless Telgari, on the other hand, spears a bit of cooked vegetable and chews it. She swallows before asking of Reyce, "so it was intentionally constructed to unsettle guests?" Her brows lift and then lower again as she silently digests the information even as a bit of fish is cut and chewed and sent on towards digestion of a different sort. Natain's departure is offered a nod, but no words. Her mouth is full and she's been taking etiquette lessons.
"How diabolical." Khavn remarks, shrugging off Reyce's disregard with a calm smile, though there's a slight glitter in his eyes, quickly hidden, that says that he'll be remembering this. "I'm usually a pretty good judge of character. I knew that woman was a bit squiggly, but I wasn't about to say so to her face, lovely and squinty as it was. You, on the other hand, seem forthright and knowledgable." A friendly lift of his brows, and he's cutting his own food into small, bite-sized pieces, eating them neatly bit by bit.
Ginella enters from the bowl outside.
Ginella has arrived.
Reyce occupies himself pushing all those cooked vegetables off to the side of his plate, lest they infect the rest of his food. "Yeah," he answers Roa. Simple question, simple answer. Reyce looks ready to drop the subject entirely, brooding over his fish.
Long distance to Ginella: Reyce hisses. It wantses to take the preciousss, but we will not lets it.
Ginella pages: I knew it! I knew you were suspiciously grey and fond of muck!
Roa sits with Reyce, Khavn, and the guard Cavel amid a crush of other people. It's fish for dinner tonight, and the living caverns is packed to, heh, the gills. Spare seats are few and far between and the line to the food is rather long. The Telgari is knotless tonight and she's cutting up a bit of fish. "Knolwedgeable and forthright. I see. And Reyce, then?" Her chin tips towards the sullen Bastard. "What do your enhanced character reading skills tell you of him?"
Khavn takes the excuse of washing down his latest bite with a chaser of juice, and dabbing delicately at his lips to buy him time to think. "Well. Deep down, I'm sure he's a sensitive soul, injured by the world and circumstance, and who would love nothing better than just to be left alone. Either that or a man who really doesn't like the fish. That would be a crying shame, though, because this is quite excellent fish." he volunteers cheerfully. "He strikes me as quite knowledgeable as well, though, assuming one could get him to open up. A veritable fount of knowledge."
Ginella is on her own this evening, and forced to find her own seating, not quite willing to brave 1C's table without T'ral. The crush of the cavern has left her with few choices, and she drifts around the room, several times aiming for a chair only to see it stolen away by someone closer. Finally, she gets shoved off in a direction, and finds herself in front of an empty chair, which she grabs immediately, only afterwards looking up to check her tablemates. "Oh, hello, Roa," she greets the goldrider cheerfully. Reyce does not elicit quite the same reaction: just a polite nod, "Reyce." Without her riding leathers or jacket, she's also knotless as she turns to smile politely at Khavn. "Hello. Hope I'm not intruding on you all? No other seats."
Reyce looks up at his name, glancing from Roa to Khavn. Expressionless, he just keeps chowing down on the fish while the harper explains his character, and at the end of it gives Roa a smirking look, not at all kind. "There you go," he murmurs: one of those unsettling quiets. "I'm a sensitive soul, deep down." This is about the same moment as Ginella's arrival, so he turns that look on her, eyeing her for a while before he answers her nodded greeting with a small arch of his brows. He's already lost interest by the time she asks about seats, and has turned back to his food.
Roa mmms faintly. The smirk that is returned to Reyce has none of that deadly cool. "At least now we know." She looks up and over as Ginella arrives and her smile relaxes into something more open. "Evening Ginella. It's sort of squashed in here, isn't it. This is Khavn of Harper. Fresh off the dragon, I think. Khavn can determine your innermost personality by whether or not your eyes squint." Cut fish, add veggies, chew.
Sheesh, all the goldriders seem to be knotless today, leaving Khavn with no idea who he's /really/ talking to. Not that it would change his behavior all that much, really. "Not at all, have a seat. Our friend just left, citing issues with his pudding not being level." he waves to the chair across from him, directly a warm smile at Ginella. "It's true. I have wondrous powers of seeing the bad apples through their squiggly eyes. But don't worry, I've sworn never to use these powers in the service of evil." He turns to Reyce while tugging absently at his own goatee. "That's good to know. Because that means you like the fish, and if you didn't, I would have to sic the cooks on you." He essays to give Reyce a friendly pat on the back. "
Ginella seems used to Reyce's looks. This isn't to say that it isn't still mildly unsettling, just that she ignores him, looking down at her meal. It appears someone has caught her a delicious bass. Or something like that. She looks up from it, whatever it is, to smile politely at Khavn. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she greets him, "I'm Ginella. Aneleth's, from Benden. I hadn't realized squinty eyes gave away a squiggly soul. I'll have to start opening mine wider," she jokes, making her eyes as big as possible.
Reyce has not been watching Khavn, but he detects movement out of the corner of his eye and turns his head just in time to see that attempted back pat. Attempted it will have to remain, for the Bendenite winces towards the table, his shoulders drawn down tightly, at the same moment his right arm swings back to intercept Khavn's and push him away. His hand also snaps into a fist, but he doesn't use it - just leaves the arm poised in the air, frozen in the motion of fending off backpats, and meets the harper's eye with a narrowed gaze. Conversation with the knotless goldriders now forgotten, he snarls, "Don't." And leaves it there.
Roa chews quietly until the almost backpat and the sudden jerk away. Her eyebrows lift and chewing stops. Cavel, who was nearly finished with his food anyhow, snaps to attention. "Easy there," he mutters, looking between Reyce and the Harper. "Simmer it down, gents."
"I wouldn't object to that. You have such lovely eyes, after all." Khavn responds easily, with a friendly wink. "I would say, judging from your eyes, that you've a lovely soul, and that you're very surprised all the time." he jokes back. His friendly backpat to Reyce is aborted halfway as his hand is suddenly slapped away. As the other hand snaps into a fist, Khavn immediately jumps to his feet, knocking his chair over and bumping into the table, hands spread in front of himself placatingly. "Whoa there, sir. I hadn't realized you bruise so easily. I assure you, I wash my hands regularly. But I'll remember to keep my hands off you. And warn the ladies to do the same." he adds, unable to resist the dig.
Ginella flushes at Khavn, and shakes her head a bit, then laughs as he goes on. "/All/ the time!" she replies, eyes big, putting on a flakely voice remeniscent of some of her Caucus classmates, "How did you know?!?" She grins and returns her face and voice to normal, getting exactly one bite of fish in before she has to grab her plate to save it from crashing. "Whoa..." she murmurs, frowning at Reyce. Khavn seems to take it well, though, and she can't help but smile faintly at his dig.
Reyce makes no effort to pursue Khavn once he's backed off, only his eyes following the harper's retreat. The dig gets a scornful little twitch of Reyce's lip, but he soon looks back to Cavel. The fist vanishes, both of his hands raising with fingers spread up: I'm done, that gesture says. He goes back to cutting up his fish as if nothing happened, not even bothering to speed up the rate at which he eats it - of course, he's almost done, so there's really no point. A few people around the table, startled by the sound of Khavn's falling chair, are now watching the scene and muttering amongst themselves; Reyce ignores them just as much as he ignores his immediate tablemates.
Roa has lowered her eyes and seems to be quite focused on eating. She's only gotten through about half the fish and the same amount of vegetables, but the girl pushes back from the table a bit suddenly and stands. Which causes Cavel to stand. "Pardon me. I have to...well, if you'll excuse me. Have a good evening Reyce, Ginella. Nice to have met you Khavn," She's picking up her tray and heading towards the place to deposit it. After snagging up a crusty breadroll from his own tray, the guard follows.
"No problems, friends. Just a little bit of a disagreement over the fish." Khavn explains to the surrounding gawkers, eliciting a chuckle from them. He retrieves his chair, setting it upright and settles back into it--pointedly, though, with his back as much towards Reyce as the table will allow. Reseating himself, he resumes his meal. "Now, I'm sorry, where were we? Ah, yes, surprises. As you can see, I'm not terribly fond of them. I much prefer to be on the giving end." He gives Roa a half-salute of sorts. "Though never let it be said that I am an ungracious reciever. I look forwards to that tour." he waves at Roa's retreating form.
Roa passes into the tunnel that leads to the bowl.
Roa has left.
Ginella looks up as Roa suddenly excuses herself, looking genuinely surprised but turning it quickly to a smile. "Alright. See you around, Roa." She gives the goldrider a little wave, then turns back to resettling her plate on the table. She lets Khavn talk as she eats a little, finally letting a polite silence pass before asking: "Have you been posted here, Harper, or are you just passing through?"
Reyce finishes the last bites of his meal. Unlike Roa, he makes no effort to excuse himself; pressing his book under his elbow, he simply picks up the tray and walks off.