Homecoming, part 1
It is a late autumn morning of day 14, month 11, turn 20 of Interval 10.
Council Room, Fort Weyr
The Weyr's meeting space is a long, oval space with a large stone table placed in the middle. There's seating enough for twelve around the table: plenty of room to welcome most of the Weyrleaders and a good portion of the Lords Holder from the north, though additional seating might be needed if a Pern-wide meeting were to be held here.
A sideboard stands ready to serve, regardless of the occasion and is kept well-stocked with carafes of wine, water and several fine liquors. Fresh flowers, appropriate to the season are changed out regularly in the vase atop the sideboard. Tapestries depicting Fort's illustrious history from founding, to Moreta's role in the Plague to Lessa's arrival to bring the Weyrs forward in time bedeck the walls, leavening the omnipresence of cool, gray stone. Well-lit, the chamber boasts glows in niches around the room, as well as oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.
Obvious exits:
Out
Fort Sea's tithe was delivered a few days ago, full wagons and attentive guards providing all of the hold's promised goods. Now one particular guard has returned, no longer kitted out in Fort Sea's colors but his own, more comfortable shirt and tunic, and Chielyth waits just outside in the bowl, as close to the Council Room as she can get. Even Elaruth's eggs are no match for B'kaiv returned /home/. The man himself stands just behind the chair likewise closest to the bowl, fingers drumming absently on the back and attention turned inward.
Appointed time, appointed place and T'rev swings in, pushing off a warm woolly orange cap. Fuzzy. Not dignified. But warm. "Hey Kai, shells it's good to see you. Welcome home," the Weyrleader says sincerely and moves forward promptly to offer the younger man a very manly, back-clapping hug.
B'kaiv smirks at little at the bronzerider's choice of headgear, but he draws up to provide a proper salute without remark. It's the hug that has him a little off-kilter, but he indulges T'rev with a cautious clap before straightening and stepping back to get some distance. "Hey sir. Good t' be back." For all his work with Majawin, a month's neglect has him mush-mouthed again. His hair has gone shaggy as well, in need of a trim, and he looks a little tired, but there are no obvious signs of abuse. "Guess your rib's all healed up, huh?"
The Weyrleader gives Kai a good once over and nods, seeming pleased with the state of the greenrider. "Yeah. Stopped hurting like a motherfucker about two sevens back, was still a little bruised-looking for another seven, just dandy now, just in time for you to come back. You've got a /mean/ tackle!" is what he says with a smirk then nods around the room as he peels off his jacket. "Drink? There's some serious stuff in that bottle there, or water in the pitcher, before we get into it."
Kai offers with another sly tease, "You just lemme know when you want another." Apologies were said a month ago; now it's time to poke fun. As for refreshements, he squints at them both. "Uh - nothin' right now. I'm good. How was things here? Chielyth told me about th' eggs. Says as Elaruth won't let her see 'em close or nothin'." Hands go back to the chair, unwilling to sit just yet.
"Ha. Don't want another like that again," T'rev says with a snort and drapes his jacket across a chair-back, pours himself some of that serious stuff and knocks back a mouthful. "Can spar, but no more broken damn ribs. That /sucked/, man," the Weyrleader says feelingly then blows out a breath. "A little .... crazy," he admits about here. "W'ton and Hattie're -- not getting along because of the flight. More fake marks turned up at the Gar fair. Asked D'kai do to some lookin' into it. If you feel up to, I'd like you to help with that. Candidates coming in."
Kai's grin flashes and is gone; he checks over his shoulder like he's not positive Chielyth isn't peering in - she is - and back to the Weyrleader. "Sorry f'r Hattie," is as much sympathy as W'ton's liable to get, and besides which, "There was plenty of th' bad ones down t' Fort Sea." Again he squints across at the bronzeridr. "I told... shells. Remember I told Chielyth as t' tell /somebody/. She didn't say nothin' t' Mecaith?"
Dropping into a chair and leaning back, T'rev knocks back another mouthful of liquor. "Yeah, she did. They were really funny lookin' the way she thought them up," the Weyrleader says with a laugh. "Like dead cow's heads. Mecaith of course, had to make them right again. He's like that."
B'kaiv says, "Yeah, she didn't understand them bein' bad. Had t' come up with somethin' so as she'd understand." Again he glances back at her, but this time when he's done he pulls out the chair and sits cautiously on the edge. "Where d'you want me t' start? I guess you heard all I seen, an' all?"
"Start with the marks if there's more. We were gettin' what Chielyth was saying, but ... well, it'd be good to hear you kind of ... say more about it. From you know, a human's point of view." T'rev's mouth quirks to the side a little. "They've got their own way of seein' things that's for sure."
The greenrider has to think about that for a few seconds, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Shells. Well, th' bad ones was all over th' place down there. I didn't say nothin' t' nobody about 'em, but I'd get two, three every game. Nothin' real big, but we wasn't playing for no high stakes neither. I'd turn out my pouch every couple days an' pull th' bad ones out. Got... shells. Two, three marks of it."
A low whistle. "That many?" T'rev looks ... troubled by that news indeed. "The new ones found at Gar -- glasscraft, by the by. Curious how Chielyth would see the glasscraft beaker," he notes with a slight grin and pushes a hand through his hair. "Okay - anything else about 'em, other than the amount?"
B'kaiv shrugs without further commentary - that many, yeah. "Glasscraft? That ain't nowhere near here neither. Wonder if nobody's told th' Craftmasters as how this is happenin'." Faint lift of his brows and voice: -has- anyone? "Uh... no, don't think so. Didn't seem like they was givin' 'em t' me special on account of me bein' new, or nothin'."
"Sure, they're aware," T'rev says with a little lift of his shoulders. "Glassmaster's right pissed." A nod follows and T'rev looks down into his glass, the liquid swirling within. "Okay. So then there was something about stuff comin' in by boat and lots of boats."
B'kaiv breathes a faint satisfied 'ah', perhaps a smidge relieved that this is a job that won't be his. He looks down as well, at the table instead of into a glass, to marshal his thoughts. "Yeah. Shells, yeah. Come from south - Gar-south, not Southern or nothin'. An' there was this one crate as split open, and it were full of fabric. But shells, sir - there was /way/ too many things bein' unloaded f'r just one place, you know? Never did get th' chance t' track any of them once they come off th' boat," he adds regretfully. "I asked once, an' they said as it weren't f'r th' likes of me. Prob'ly 'cause I was new."
LIstening, T'rev's brow starts to wrinkle up again. "Shells ..." he breathes out and takes another pull from his glass and rubs at his forehead. "So. A lot of marks. The bad kind. A lot of supplies." Brown eyes lift to B'kaiv's face. "Doesn't sound good whatever way you slice it. What's your take, Kai, from being there, seeing it?"
Kai nods sourly and stands without asking, shoving back his chair to pace the length of the table. Only after his first full circuit does he say, "Ain't good. /Really/ ain't good. See, I were dicin' with some of these... well, they weren't /guards/ or nothin'. Said as they were traders, but... shells." Words tangling his tongue, he stops to lean over the back of one chair, weight resting on his fists. "They said as they was bein' paid by Gar t' hang around, an' if he weren't happy with somebody, he told 'em t' go 'trade' with 'em. They was real interested in me. Said as I could get paid better'n just bein' no guard if I was good with a blade."
This all makes T'rev look very, very worried. "Shells ..." again. He's quiet for a while, looking out towards the bowl. "Hm. What the /hell/ is going on ...." he murmurs and his fingers drum on the table.
"Flame me if I know," is Kai's not-that-helpful interjection. He pushes off the table again to head for the far end, turns there and stops. "See, there was one as was bored, 'cause Rivellan didn't have 'em doin' much but sittin' around an' gettin' drunk. But th' leader, his name was... shells. Laron or somethin' like that. No, Larrim. Anyway, he was the one as was tryin' t' get me t' join up. Said sometimes they went far south as... Boll? Yeah, Boll. I said as I'd go along, t' try it out an' all, so long as they wasn't gone more'n a few days. It really don't sound good, sir."
"No, it doesn't," T'rev says and rubs at the back of his neck. "You've done a good job Kai ... but I don't know if it's a good idea to have you in there again until after Chielyth rises, but it'd be sure interesting to see about these folks. What they're doing."
The greenrider snorts and stalks back to his seat, actually sitting in it this time and not perching on the edge. "Shells, yeah. Just - no time soon. Spring, maybe. Weather's gettin' bad for bein' out on a boat. We can keep a eye out over th' winter, though, an' see if there's any problems. An'... someone's gonna tell Lord Fort, yeah?" Someone who isn't him?
"Mm. Though it's not that bad down more south, towards Boll. Weather doesn't get cold like it does up here," T'rev points out. "But yeah. Could do more flyovers, track the boats in and out," he says slowly, musingly. "And might see about settin' up some riders to do more transport runs. Shipping runs, for specific things. Maybe." THe Weyrleader's shoulders roll uncomfortably. "Have to think on that and how to put it to him."
"Still got t' get back t' Fort Sea," Kai points out, "Unless they got somewhere t' hole up." He offers this bit uncomfortably, because really, who needs renegades to have a secret hiding spot? "Wish I coulda found somethin' useful, 'stead of just findin' more questions. Woulda been nice f'r someone t' say somethin' like, "Hey you, new guy. C'mere an' help us move all them boxes an' boxes of bad marks we got from W'ton."" But alas, hope must spring eternal, even if the thought makes him snort, amused. "Hope Chielyth weren't too much trouble, or nothin'."
"If that's what's going on," T'rev points out. After all, it's not like 'renegades' is even a confirmed concept. "There's one question answered though, Kai and that's that there /is/ something going on and Fort Sea's at least got a big hand in it," the Weyrleader adds and picks up his glass, takes a big swig that empties it out. "It's just a question of sortin' out how big of a hand and so on." He shoots Kai a look about W'ton. "I wouldn't ... push W'ton on anything right now. He's really damn sore. Would just make things worse." He smiles though about Chielyth. "Nah. She's a sweet girl. Mecaith's -- protective about her."
B'kaiv shrugs for both of T'rev's cautionary statements with a nod in the middle for Fort Sea's involvement. If he /is/ going to get all up in his clutchbrother's business, he's smart enough not to admit it to the Weyrleader. "Protective? An' least one thing went right - ain't nobody as said I weren't no guard. There was a couple times as I got caught talkin' t' her, but they just thought as I weren't payin' no attention." He quirks another amused half-smile. "Got dawn watch f'r my troubles. She liked that, me bein' up t' keep her company."
"Yeah. You know, like a big brother is," T'rev says with some amusement. "Wants to make sure she's treated with the 'respect and kindness that she deserves'," the Weyrleader quotes his bronze on the petite green. "Yeah, didn't think you'd get pegged easy, but damn about that watch," T'rev says with a shake of his head. "You've done really good, Kai. Really good. Thank you -- it doesn't even get close to enough. I'm just real glad we've got you back in one piece."
Kai's got a snort and a headshake for big brother Mecaith. "Dunno what he's protectin' her from, but I'm real glad he was keepin' a eye on her. She was gettin' real fidgety th' last seven, since Elaruth been busy." 'Busy'. With a trifling thing like her clutch. "An' thanks. Glad t' be back. I owe Chielyth... shells. A bath, an' oilin', an' I told her we'd go flyin', just me an' her, anywhere she wants t' go. I'm real proud of her."
"He's got you know, very definite ideas on right n' wrong, does Mecaith," T'rev explains. "Almost holdbred, if you know what I mean. His outlook," the bronzerider adds with a chuckle. "Yeah. Peirith was keepin' tabs, stickin' close in case." The Weyrleader pushes up to his feet and reaches out to clasp Kai's shoulder. "Yeah. How 'bout you go take care of all that? Hole up with her if you want. Though - reminds me. It ain't a punishment, but would you be okay shiftin' to Obsidian with D'kai and all of them? It'd be another kind of ... for show thing." Beat. "And they drill afternoons."
Up to his feet too and Kai glances sidelong at the clap but doesn't comment and shoves his own hands in his pockets. "Sure. Think we'll go do some of that flyin' first, come back here for th' bath." There's a squint at the idea of switching wings, and he says slowly, "With W'ton, you mean. Guess that'd be all right. Just... shells. I c'n see him sayin' somethin' easy, an' I'd have t' pop him one then. But guess it wouldn't be no worse'n flyin' with Phara an' Nolek." Just as slowly he nods, then faster: yes. "Won't say as' afternoon drills wouldn't be better for her. I weren't lookin' forward t' gettin' her back t' sleepin' at night an' bein' awake in th' mornin's no how. So... yeah." Another impish smile flicks here and gone. "You want me t' go after you again so you got a excuse?"
"Mm. Could keep an eye on him too," T'rev points out. "Only way to not have to deal with W'ton or Phara at all would be to go into Jasper with G'dri or transfer out of the Weyr," the Weyrleader jokes. Laughter follows. "No. Let's keep my face pretty for a bit," T'rev says merrily enough and nods outside. "Go on, go make your girl happy."
B'kaiv doesn't say anything about transferring to Jasper, though the bronzerider might catch a quick flicker of interest, hastily repressed. Purely by the need to join in on the laughter, of course. Just a joke, only kidding. "A'right. Good t' be back, sir." Another proper salute - his diction may have slid but that salute is still sharp as ever - and he turns to take his leave, welcomed to the bowl by enthusiastic bugling like he'd been gone for months and months instead of minutes and minutes.
Jasper... Jasper wouldn't be so bad, maybe. Or Malachite. Shells, I got t' find him - but I got a month t' make up t' Chielyth first.
Council Room, Fort Weyr
The Weyr's meeting space is a long, oval space with a large stone table placed in the middle. There's seating enough for twelve around the table: plenty of room to welcome most of the Weyrleaders and a good portion of the Lords Holder from the north, though additional seating might be needed if a Pern-wide meeting were to be held here.
A sideboard stands ready to serve, regardless of the occasion and is kept well-stocked with carafes of wine, water and several fine liquors. Fresh flowers, appropriate to the season are changed out regularly in the vase atop the sideboard. Tapestries depicting Fort's illustrious history from founding, to Moreta's role in the Plague to Lessa's arrival to bring the Weyrs forward in time bedeck the walls, leavening the omnipresence of cool, gray stone. Well-lit, the chamber boasts glows in niches around the room, as well as oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.
Obvious exits:
Out
Fort Sea's tithe was delivered a few days ago, full wagons and attentive guards providing all of the hold's promised goods. Now one particular guard has returned, no longer kitted out in Fort Sea's colors but his own, more comfortable shirt and tunic, and Chielyth waits just outside in the bowl, as close to the Council Room as she can get. Even Elaruth's eggs are no match for B'kaiv returned /home/. The man himself stands just behind the chair likewise closest to the bowl, fingers drumming absently on the back and attention turned inward.
Appointed time, appointed place and T'rev swings in, pushing off a warm woolly orange cap. Fuzzy. Not dignified. But warm. "Hey Kai, shells it's good to see you. Welcome home," the Weyrleader says sincerely and moves forward promptly to offer the younger man a very manly, back-clapping hug.
B'kaiv smirks at little at the bronzerider's choice of headgear, but he draws up to provide a proper salute without remark. It's the hug that has him a little off-kilter, but he indulges T'rev with a cautious clap before straightening and stepping back to get some distance. "Hey sir. Good t' be back." For all his work with Majawin, a month's neglect has him mush-mouthed again. His hair has gone shaggy as well, in need of a trim, and he looks a little tired, but there are no obvious signs of abuse. "Guess your rib's all healed up, huh?"
The Weyrleader gives Kai a good once over and nods, seeming pleased with the state of the greenrider. "Yeah. Stopped hurting like a motherfucker about two sevens back, was still a little bruised-looking for another seven, just dandy now, just in time for you to come back. You've got a /mean/ tackle!" is what he says with a smirk then nods around the room as he peels off his jacket. "Drink? There's some serious stuff in that bottle there, or water in the pitcher, before we get into it."
Kai offers with another sly tease, "You just lemme know when you want another." Apologies were said a month ago; now it's time to poke fun. As for refreshements, he squints at them both. "Uh - nothin' right now. I'm good. How was things here? Chielyth told me about th' eggs. Says as Elaruth won't let her see 'em close or nothin'." Hands go back to the chair, unwilling to sit just yet.
"Ha. Don't want another like that again," T'rev says with a snort and drapes his jacket across a chair-back, pours himself some of that serious stuff and knocks back a mouthful. "Can spar, but no more broken damn ribs. That /sucked/, man," the Weyrleader says feelingly then blows out a breath. "A little .... crazy," he admits about here. "W'ton and Hattie're -- not getting along because of the flight. More fake marks turned up at the Gar fair. Asked D'kai do to some lookin' into it. If you feel up to, I'd like you to help with that. Candidates coming in."
Kai's grin flashes and is gone; he checks over his shoulder like he's not positive Chielyth isn't peering in - she is - and back to the Weyrleader. "Sorry f'r Hattie," is as much sympathy as W'ton's liable to get, and besides which, "There was plenty of th' bad ones down t' Fort Sea." Again he squints across at the bronzeridr. "I told... shells. Remember I told Chielyth as t' tell /somebody/. She didn't say nothin' t' Mecaith?"
Dropping into a chair and leaning back, T'rev knocks back another mouthful of liquor. "Yeah, she did. They were really funny lookin' the way she thought them up," the Weyrleader says with a laugh. "Like dead cow's heads. Mecaith of course, had to make them right again. He's like that."
B'kaiv says, "Yeah, she didn't understand them bein' bad. Had t' come up with somethin' so as she'd understand." Again he glances back at her, but this time when he's done he pulls out the chair and sits cautiously on the edge. "Where d'you want me t' start? I guess you heard all I seen, an' all?"
"Start with the marks if there's more. We were gettin' what Chielyth was saying, but ... well, it'd be good to hear you kind of ... say more about it. From you know, a human's point of view." T'rev's mouth quirks to the side a little. "They've got their own way of seein' things that's for sure."
The greenrider has to think about that for a few seconds, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Shells. Well, th' bad ones was all over th' place down there. I didn't say nothin' t' nobody about 'em, but I'd get two, three every game. Nothin' real big, but we wasn't playing for no high stakes neither. I'd turn out my pouch every couple days an' pull th' bad ones out. Got... shells. Two, three marks of it."
A low whistle. "That many?" T'rev looks ... troubled by that news indeed. "The new ones found at Gar -- glasscraft, by the by. Curious how Chielyth would see the glasscraft beaker," he notes with a slight grin and pushes a hand through his hair. "Okay - anything else about 'em, other than the amount?"
B'kaiv shrugs without further commentary - that many, yeah. "Glasscraft? That ain't nowhere near here neither. Wonder if nobody's told th' Craftmasters as how this is happenin'." Faint lift of his brows and voice: -has- anyone? "Uh... no, don't think so. Didn't seem like they was givin' 'em t' me special on account of me bein' new, or nothin'."
"Sure, they're aware," T'rev says with a little lift of his shoulders. "Glassmaster's right pissed." A nod follows and T'rev looks down into his glass, the liquid swirling within. "Okay. So then there was something about stuff comin' in by boat and lots of boats."
B'kaiv breathes a faint satisfied 'ah', perhaps a smidge relieved that this is a job that won't be his. He looks down as well, at the table instead of into a glass, to marshal his thoughts. "Yeah. Shells, yeah. Come from south - Gar-south, not Southern or nothin'. An' there was this one crate as split open, and it were full of fabric. But shells, sir - there was /way/ too many things bein' unloaded f'r just one place, you know? Never did get th' chance t' track any of them once they come off th' boat," he adds regretfully. "I asked once, an' they said as it weren't f'r th' likes of me. Prob'ly 'cause I was new."
LIstening, T'rev's brow starts to wrinkle up again. "Shells ..." he breathes out and takes another pull from his glass and rubs at his forehead. "So. A lot of marks. The bad kind. A lot of supplies." Brown eyes lift to B'kaiv's face. "Doesn't sound good whatever way you slice it. What's your take, Kai, from being there, seeing it?"
Kai nods sourly and stands without asking, shoving back his chair to pace the length of the table. Only after his first full circuit does he say, "Ain't good. /Really/ ain't good. See, I were dicin' with some of these... well, they weren't /guards/ or nothin'. Said as they were traders, but... shells." Words tangling his tongue, he stops to lean over the back of one chair, weight resting on his fists. "They said as they was bein' paid by Gar t' hang around, an' if he weren't happy with somebody, he told 'em t' go 'trade' with 'em. They was real interested in me. Said as I could get paid better'n just bein' no guard if I was good with a blade."
This all makes T'rev look very, very worried. "Shells ..." again. He's quiet for a while, looking out towards the bowl. "Hm. What the /hell/ is going on ...." he murmurs and his fingers drum on the table.
"Flame me if I know," is Kai's not-that-helpful interjection. He pushes off the table again to head for the far end, turns there and stops. "See, there was one as was bored, 'cause Rivellan didn't have 'em doin' much but sittin' around an' gettin' drunk. But th' leader, his name was... shells. Laron or somethin' like that. No, Larrim. Anyway, he was the one as was tryin' t' get me t' join up. Said sometimes they went far south as... Boll? Yeah, Boll. I said as I'd go along, t' try it out an' all, so long as they wasn't gone more'n a few days. It really don't sound good, sir."
"No, it doesn't," T'rev says and rubs at the back of his neck. "You've done a good job Kai ... but I don't know if it's a good idea to have you in there again until after Chielyth rises, but it'd be sure interesting to see about these folks. What they're doing."
The greenrider snorts and stalks back to his seat, actually sitting in it this time and not perching on the edge. "Shells, yeah. Just - no time soon. Spring, maybe. Weather's gettin' bad for bein' out on a boat. We can keep a eye out over th' winter, though, an' see if there's any problems. An'... someone's gonna tell Lord Fort, yeah?" Someone who isn't him?
"Mm. Though it's not that bad down more south, towards Boll. Weather doesn't get cold like it does up here," T'rev points out. "But yeah. Could do more flyovers, track the boats in and out," he says slowly, musingly. "And might see about settin' up some riders to do more transport runs. Shipping runs, for specific things. Maybe." THe Weyrleader's shoulders roll uncomfortably. "Have to think on that and how to put it to him."
"Still got t' get back t' Fort Sea," Kai points out, "Unless they got somewhere t' hole up." He offers this bit uncomfortably, because really, who needs renegades to have a secret hiding spot? "Wish I coulda found somethin' useful, 'stead of just findin' more questions. Woulda been nice f'r someone t' say somethin' like, "Hey you, new guy. C'mere an' help us move all them boxes an' boxes of bad marks we got from W'ton."" But alas, hope must spring eternal, even if the thought makes him snort, amused. "Hope Chielyth weren't too much trouble, or nothin'."
"If that's what's going on," T'rev points out. After all, it's not like 'renegades' is even a confirmed concept. "There's one question answered though, Kai and that's that there /is/ something going on and Fort Sea's at least got a big hand in it," the Weyrleader adds and picks up his glass, takes a big swig that empties it out. "It's just a question of sortin' out how big of a hand and so on." He shoots Kai a look about W'ton. "I wouldn't ... push W'ton on anything right now. He's really damn sore. Would just make things worse." He smiles though about Chielyth. "Nah. She's a sweet girl. Mecaith's -- protective about her."
B'kaiv shrugs for both of T'rev's cautionary statements with a nod in the middle for Fort Sea's involvement. If he /is/ going to get all up in his clutchbrother's business, he's smart enough not to admit it to the Weyrleader. "Protective? An' least one thing went right - ain't nobody as said I weren't no guard. There was a couple times as I got caught talkin' t' her, but they just thought as I weren't payin' no attention." He quirks another amused half-smile. "Got dawn watch f'r my troubles. She liked that, me bein' up t' keep her company."
"Yeah. You know, like a big brother is," T'rev says with some amusement. "Wants to make sure she's treated with the 'respect and kindness that she deserves'," the Weyrleader quotes his bronze on the petite green. "Yeah, didn't think you'd get pegged easy, but damn about that watch," T'rev says with a shake of his head. "You've done really good, Kai. Really good. Thank you -- it doesn't even get close to enough. I'm just real glad we've got you back in one piece."
Kai's got a snort and a headshake for big brother Mecaith. "Dunno what he's protectin' her from, but I'm real glad he was keepin' a eye on her. She was gettin' real fidgety th' last seven, since Elaruth been busy." 'Busy'. With a trifling thing like her clutch. "An' thanks. Glad t' be back. I owe Chielyth... shells. A bath, an' oilin', an' I told her we'd go flyin', just me an' her, anywhere she wants t' go. I'm real proud of her."
"He's got you know, very definite ideas on right n' wrong, does Mecaith," T'rev explains. "Almost holdbred, if you know what I mean. His outlook," the bronzerider adds with a chuckle. "Yeah. Peirith was keepin' tabs, stickin' close in case." The Weyrleader pushes up to his feet and reaches out to clasp Kai's shoulder. "Yeah. How 'bout you go take care of all that? Hole up with her if you want. Though - reminds me. It ain't a punishment, but would you be okay shiftin' to Obsidian with D'kai and all of them? It'd be another kind of ... for show thing." Beat. "And they drill afternoons."
Up to his feet too and Kai glances sidelong at the clap but doesn't comment and shoves his own hands in his pockets. "Sure. Think we'll go do some of that flyin' first, come back here for th' bath." There's a squint at the idea of switching wings, and he says slowly, "With W'ton, you mean. Guess that'd be all right. Just... shells. I c'n see him sayin' somethin' easy, an' I'd have t' pop him one then. But guess it wouldn't be no worse'n flyin' with Phara an' Nolek." Just as slowly he nods, then faster: yes. "Won't say as' afternoon drills wouldn't be better for her. I weren't lookin' forward t' gettin' her back t' sleepin' at night an' bein' awake in th' mornin's no how. So... yeah." Another impish smile flicks here and gone. "You want me t' go after you again so you got a excuse?"
"Mm. Could keep an eye on him too," T'rev points out. "Only way to not have to deal with W'ton or Phara at all would be to go into Jasper with G'dri or transfer out of the Weyr," the Weyrleader jokes. Laughter follows. "No. Let's keep my face pretty for a bit," T'rev says merrily enough and nods outside. "Go on, go make your girl happy."
B'kaiv doesn't say anything about transferring to Jasper, though the bronzerider might catch a quick flicker of interest, hastily repressed. Purely by the need to join in on the laughter, of course. Just a joke, only kidding. "A'right. Good t' be back, sir." Another proper salute - his diction may have slid but that salute is still sharp as ever - and he turns to take his leave, welcomed to the bowl by enthusiastic bugling like he'd been gone for months and months instead of minutes and minutes.
Jasper... Jasper wouldn't be so bad, maybe. Or Malachite. Shells, I got t' find him - but I got a month t' make up t' Chielyth first.