Wrinkles and folds
It is late of a winter morning, day 8, month 1, turn 21 of Interval 10.
Stores, Fort Weyr
Just off of the living cavern is a short tunnel that leads to the cavern complex of the stores, which consists of several caves of various sizes. Stairs lead further down to the darker, cooler caves which house root vegetables, dried herbs, cooking supplies, and row upon row of meat hung up on hooks. The upper level is devoted to everything else, with one cavern devoted entirely to clothing -- much of which might need mending to be useful -- and bedding, while another contains dragonriding supplies like straps, riding leathers, and oil. Other things that can be found here would be furniture, toys, basic supplies for crafters and anything else that folks in the Weyr might need to do.
Everything is neatly organized to the point of anal-retentiveness, ensuring that anyone can find what they're looking for as quickly as possible. Stores workers are usually on hand for those who don't know where to find what they're looking for.
Obvious exits:
Tunnel Kitchen
The storerooms are busy lately with all the shortages, so folks are often seen coming and going scrounging for this and that. This afternoon, however there's a lull for some reason or other during which Vanissa has peeked in. Finding the place nearly deserted, she enters to head purposefully for the used clothing area. It doesn't take her long at all to begin rummaging through boxes, piling things to the side as she rejects item after item.
There are lulls, and then there's empty: the storerooms are rarely that. Case in point, one greenrider who comes around the corner into Nissa's aisle, pockets bulging. Usually the storeroom staff prefer that people use baskets or bags to carry their haul, but Kai has neither. He glances at the woman and turns to read the labels written on one of the crates, stops and turns to give her a second, more thoughtful look. "Think one of us is in th' wrong place. Ain't this men's clothes?"
Loose waves of brown-gold hair tumble about Vanissa's face and shoulders, framing her wide forehead and cheekbones, while slim brows, slightly darker than her hair and a straight nose provide balance. Full lips form a ready smile that reaches thick-lashed eyes of hazel varying in shade from moss green to amber, often flashing with resolve and giving hint to the resiliency that lies within.
Although everything about her says 'soft', Vanissa is anything but. She tends to the soft and curvy rather than the willowy or obviously muscular, something that might cause others to misjudge both her strength and her lanky frame. Vanissa is 20 turns, 12 months, 3 days
"Must be you, then cos I'm here for-" Nissa's head pops up from inside the deep carton she's half inside and her half-grin fades as she recognizes who has spoken. Lamely she finishes, "-men's clothes." She reaches back into the box, her eyes drop to the contents as she lifts out a faded shirt of grey-blue flannel, shakes out the folds and begins running her fingers over it, inspecting the garment. Without looking up, she asks politely, "How're you today?"
'Must be him' and Kai's eyes go straight back to the crate. It remains 'Men's Long Underwear, Large' and bafflement greets Nissa when her head pops up. "Oh." Maybe it's not thrilling conversation, but it's conversation. Right? "I'm good. You?" After that courageous sally he takes a step or two toward her before trying again: "Getting excited for th' Hatching?"
Someone must have ignored that label on the carton when they dumped in all those shirts (how fortunate for Nissa) and carelessly left it open to boot. That bafflement on the greenrider's face meets a brief quizzical flash as the shirt she's found is deemed satisfactory and placed aside. Then she's back inside that box, reaching inside to lift out another. This one is a brilliant green with a bit of a sheen to it, albeit worn thin. Back upright, that question has her turning back with the garment against her cheek, clouded hazel eyes meet his. "No." Simple and honest, her lips form a flat line as she lowers that shirt, gazing at it absently.
B'kaiv says, "Oh," and screws up his face before giving her another once-over. Whatever he sees must satisfy him, despite his puzzlement, for the greenrider nods, just once. Just before he turns away he tries to hook his thumbs into his pockets, remembering too late their current state of occupancy. "Shells. Well, hope things work out for you." Another nod, sparing as the last, and then he does turn, abandoning pockets and such to reach for one of the higher shelves. This one is 'Men's gloves and socks'.
Vanissa shrugs, places the man's shirt on top of the other one, sliding him a glance long enough to note that nod of his, one brow raising before she's back pawing through the box. "/I'll/ be fine." The emphasis implies she's not sure of others, but she doesn't elaborate. Muffled just a bit from inside that box, she mutters, "Did they work out for you?" There's more shuffling as shirts are passed by until she finally re-emerges with yet another huge shirt. Her chin lifts, an unconscious gesture, an a tiny glint of a challenge in her eyes, "T'rev set ya straight on Trey?"
B'kaiv notes from full stretch, "Those is gonna be too big on you," and wriggles his box out far enough to get fingers, then hands safely on the sides to lift it down. "Good enough. Things ain't as I expected, but... dunno as I'd wanna be a guard t' Ruatha River or Fort Sea after all as has happened." Socks and gloves aren't that interesting after all, for the greenrider, after giving the contents the briefest of glances, turns back to Nissa. "What's that supposed t' mean? Nosy, ain't you?"
"Ain't gonna go on me." Nissa manages a small, amused smile at that, "Gonna cut 'em up, make Vani some baby clothes." The current shirt she's looking at is forgotten at the mention of the two holds. Of the several things that flicker in her eyes, mild confusion wins, "Why's that?" Casually spoken. Curious. As to the other, her chin jerks up again, gold glints amongst the hazel of her eyes, "Supposed to mean did he tell ya Trey would never be doin' what ya said he was!" Firmly spoken that, but without heat. She shrugs at that last bit, stubbornly adding as she lowers her eyes back to that shirt she's holding, "Just don't like to see friends make mistakes."
Mention of baby clothes makes B'kaiv about as curious and interested as you'd expect from a healthy young male, i.e., not at all. He grunts instead and starts digging through his treasures, draping the singletons over the crate's lip. "Why's what? An' shells, I know he's your brother an' all, but that don't mean he's always right. But I told him as I weren't gonna go after Trey until we got proof." Not if, until. He adds, after another second and a pointed pause, "Not that it's none of your business. Unless you're th' one as been stealing an' making them fake marks."
Matter-of-fact: "Conserving material. All them raids." Nissa offhandedly adds as she drops the shirt to the pile, which is eyed with an air of satisfaction. She lifts the lid to the box, replaces it and turns pushing with her hands to hop up and have a seat on the sturdy carton, arranging her flowing skirts for comfort. "Meant why'd you not wanna be a guard in them places? You brought it up, so." A shrug follows and then laughter bubbles, her eyes dance, "My brother has nothin' to do with why I know Trey ain't stealin'." All levity is short-lived, however. "Look at me, Kai, d'you think I'd be helpin' folks with stealin' and makin' false marks?" Her expression is open for him to read, a clear-eyed gaze to meet his if he does look as she insists, "And it /is/ my business, too!"
B'kaiv says, "Them shirts might still be good t' wear," though he doesn't come over to tear them from her hands and examine them himself. Of course, this is a man who walks around in clothes until they practically fall off from exhaustion, so he might be biased about what still has wear in it. Thoughtfully, "'Cause... I dunno as I could work for nobody as'd short other folk. We didn't hold with none of that back home. The Weavers here is like that too - cheats, I mean." He finally finds a matching pair, sensible brown with blue at the heel and toe, nods, and stuffs them into a pocket that still has a bit of space. He does look over with one of his customary half frowns. "Shells yeah, you could. Don't think as you /done/ it, but you can't tell as a man - or a girl - is a thief just t' look at 'em. An' unless th' Weyrleader's been havin' you do stuff t' look," this firmly, quellingly, "It ain't none of your business."
Faint surprise, "The man said to look in this box," Nissa explains with a wave of her arm towards wherever the storeroom worker disappeared to. Unconcerned with the rider's opinion on clothes, she considers, her thoughtful reply coming after he's stuffing his pockets, "Makes sense. So y'all found out for sure those holders were in on it. Trails are all done then?" Huh. Who knew? That half-frown is met with an unruffled calm, "True. Can't tell just by lookin'. But there's ways I guess ya don't know 'bout." She points out as she takes his measure through her lashes. Casually, "How d'you feel when folks say you're dumb just cos of how ya talk?" That look sent her way has her inhaling and she almost - almost doesn't continue, "Is too!" But she doesn't assure him whether T'rev has set her a task or not.
'The man said' has Kai grunting; another moment and he shrugs and turns back to his sock-hunting. "Guess as they told you it were all right." As for Gar, that gets another shrug. "Dunno. That's for th' Weyrleader an' Lord Fort t' decide, not th' likes of me an' you. I just know what I seen. An'," this time he snorts, indulgently, "I /am/ stupid. Just ask anyone, 'specially th' Harpers. I'm good with numbers, that's about it. Can't all be your brother, now can we?"
"Oh." Cue confused blinking on Nissa's part. "So they've proved nothin' about Fort Sea and Gar." Nissa looks down at her feet, crossed at the ankles, where they gently swing with a faint, regular tap against that carton she's sitting on. "So beatin' up Trey cos he's from there... I just don't get that. How was that supposed to help?" She's struggling with getting a grasp on all of it, by her tone. She tilts a sideways look up at him, staunchly "And you're /not/ stupid!" A breath out, "It ain't all about harper grades. Stupid is..." She lifts her head, breaking off her own thoughts at that last bit, a bemused smile on her lips, "My brother?? Why do you do that - compare yourself to other folks?"
The greenrider sighs, much put upon, and stops his sock-hunting to face her square on. "It /ain't/," he says again, and more firmly this time, "None of your business. /You/ Lord Holder of Fort? Weyrleader? Weyrwoman? No? Then keep your sharding nose -out- of it. Shells!" He stares at her, utterly flabbergasted, for a good handful of seconds before shaking his head and turning back to his chore, though he shoots the Neratian disbelieving sidelong looks and doesn't seem to care if she sees. "'Cause your brother's smart. /An'/ sharding lucky. Shells - just look at what all he got going for him: got a bronze, he's th' sharding /Weyrleader/ of /Fort/, his Da's the flaming /Masterharper/, he got women just /throwing/ themselves at him. Anything he wants, he don't got t' do nothing a'sides put his hand out, an' he got it."
Vanissa hears B'kaiv out stoically, her face neutral until he quiets. Calmly, "Ya finished?" Unusual exasperation, mild though it is, tints her voice, "Ya don't own Pern's problems, Kai. Ya ain't Lord Holder, Weyrleader or whatever, but ya act like ya own them - at least the one with these thieves!" Her voice is even, low-pitched as she drops her head again and continues, "Tis so my business! It's weighin' on my brother and I-" She looks up at him, tears of frustration sparkle in her eyes, "I can see what the stress does to 'im and I'd do anything to help lift that from 'im. You-" She shakes her head, doggedly continuing, "-weren't helpin' goin' after Trey." That sidelong look is noted, lips part to interrupt his list of her brother's supposed good fortune, but she waits patiently. When he's done there's no judgment, no lecture. She leans towards him, seeking his eyes, trying to impart sincerity, her words earnestly spoken, "You're missin' the most important thing he's got Kai."
B'kaiv flings up his hands at her question and starts flipping the socks on the crate's edge back into their wooden prison. "Yeah. Sure. I'm finished." He doesn't look over after, not once, though Nissa will have a fine view of the tense muscles in his jaw and can imagine the ones in his shoulders and back, especially when he has to bend to retrieve a mis-matched pair from the floor. "Look," he tells them, "I don't care. A'right? Don't sharding /care/. You wanna prance around shoving your nose int' everything? Fine. Don't come crying t' /nobody/ when it gets bit off." He flings them into the box and shoves the lid more or less on, uncaring of both the fit and how loud the rattle is of wood on wood.
Vanissa leans back with a quiet sigh, watching the display of ire. Unusually sober for her, she waits until the rattling quiets, then continues as if in a normal give and take conversation, "He's content, Kai. He was content back home 'fore he had any of those things. He'd've been happy on a traders trail with the wind n' sky." She draws a thoughtful breath in, "And ya may not care-" she's not about to argue that one! "-but folks don't usually get mad 'bout stuff for no reason a'tall." She shifts on that carton, drawing her legs up, clasping her arms about her skirt, puzzling something out in her mind for a few beats. "Y'think I'll get hurt? How's that?"
After the rattling there's scraping, as Kai gives the crate a kick to shove it closer to the shelves and out of the main aisle. Only then, brushing off his hands like a man trying to rid them of a coat of dirt, does he again glance her way. "I'm done," is all he says then, voice raised only enough to ride right over her words. "Afternoon, Candidate." And with that - as simple as that - he turns and stalks off, not looking back.
Vanissa remains where she is as Kai departs, hazel eyes thoughtfully upon his back until he is out of sight. She shakes her head, murmuring to herself, "No wonder T'rev doesn't understand 'im. Angry he says. Nope. More like scared." She hops up then, scoops up that pile of shirts and heads out, humming a cheerful tune.
Shells, she's nice to look at, but she don't never stop /talking/! Don't wonder as T'rev left his place no more, if all he got is sisters. Probably his ears didn't stop ringing until he come to Fort.
Stores, Fort Weyr
Just off of the living cavern is a short tunnel that leads to the cavern complex of the stores, which consists of several caves of various sizes. Stairs lead further down to the darker, cooler caves which house root vegetables, dried herbs, cooking supplies, and row upon row of meat hung up on hooks. The upper level is devoted to everything else, with one cavern devoted entirely to clothing -- much of which might need mending to be useful -- and bedding, while another contains dragonriding supplies like straps, riding leathers, and oil. Other things that can be found here would be furniture, toys, basic supplies for crafters and anything else that folks in the Weyr might need to do.
Everything is neatly organized to the point of anal-retentiveness, ensuring that anyone can find what they're looking for as quickly as possible. Stores workers are usually on hand for those who don't know where to find what they're looking for.
Obvious exits:
Tunnel Kitchen
The storerooms are busy lately with all the shortages, so folks are often seen coming and going scrounging for this and that. This afternoon, however there's a lull for some reason or other during which Vanissa has peeked in. Finding the place nearly deserted, she enters to head purposefully for the used clothing area. It doesn't take her long at all to begin rummaging through boxes, piling things to the side as she rejects item after item.
There are lulls, and then there's empty: the storerooms are rarely that. Case in point, one greenrider who comes around the corner into Nissa's aisle, pockets bulging. Usually the storeroom staff prefer that people use baskets or bags to carry their haul, but Kai has neither. He glances at the woman and turns to read the labels written on one of the crates, stops and turns to give her a second, more thoughtful look. "Think one of us is in th' wrong place. Ain't this men's clothes?"
Loose waves of brown-gold hair tumble about Vanissa's face and shoulders, framing her wide forehead and cheekbones, while slim brows, slightly darker than her hair and a straight nose provide balance. Full lips form a ready smile that reaches thick-lashed eyes of hazel varying in shade from moss green to amber, often flashing with resolve and giving hint to the resiliency that lies within.
Although everything about her says 'soft', Vanissa is anything but. She tends to the soft and curvy rather than the willowy or obviously muscular, something that might cause others to misjudge both her strength and her lanky frame. Vanissa is 20 turns, 12 months, 3 days
"Must be you, then cos I'm here for-" Nissa's head pops up from inside the deep carton she's half inside and her half-grin fades as she recognizes who has spoken. Lamely she finishes, "-men's clothes." She reaches back into the box, her eyes drop to the contents as she lifts out a faded shirt of grey-blue flannel, shakes out the folds and begins running her fingers over it, inspecting the garment. Without looking up, she asks politely, "How're you today?"
'Must be him' and Kai's eyes go straight back to the crate. It remains 'Men's Long Underwear, Large' and bafflement greets Nissa when her head pops up. "Oh." Maybe it's not thrilling conversation, but it's conversation. Right? "I'm good. You?" After that courageous sally he takes a step or two toward her before trying again: "Getting excited for th' Hatching?"
Someone must have ignored that label on the carton when they dumped in all those shirts (how fortunate for Nissa) and carelessly left it open to boot. That bafflement on the greenrider's face meets a brief quizzical flash as the shirt she's found is deemed satisfactory and placed aside. Then she's back inside that box, reaching inside to lift out another. This one is a brilliant green with a bit of a sheen to it, albeit worn thin. Back upright, that question has her turning back with the garment against her cheek, clouded hazel eyes meet his. "No." Simple and honest, her lips form a flat line as she lowers that shirt, gazing at it absently.
B'kaiv says, "Oh," and screws up his face before giving her another once-over. Whatever he sees must satisfy him, despite his puzzlement, for the greenrider nods, just once. Just before he turns away he tries to hook his thumbs into his pockets, remembering too late their current state of occupancy. "Shells. Well, hope things work out for you." Another nod, sparing as the last, and then he does turn, abandoning pockets and such to reach for one of the higher shelves. This one is 'Men's gloves and socks'.
Vanissa shrugs, places the man's shirt on top of the other one, sliding him a glance long enough to note that nod of his, one brow raising before she's back pawing through the box. "/I'll/ be fine." The emphasis implies she's not sure of others, but she doesn't elaborate. Muffled just a bit from inside that box, she mutters, "Did they work out for you?" There's more shuffling as shirts are passed by until she finally re-emerges with yet another huge shirt. Her chin lifts, an unconscious gesture, an a tiny glint of a challenge in her eyes, "T'rev set ya straight on Trey?"
B'kaiv notes from full stretch, "Those is gonna be too big on you," and wriggles his box out far enough to get fingers, then hands safely on the sides to lift it down. "Good enough. Things ain't as I expected, but... dunno as I'd wanna be a guard t' Ruatha River or Fort Sea after all as has happened." Socks and gloves aren't that interesting after all, for the greenrider, after giving the contents the briefest of glances, turns back to Nissa. "What's that supposed t' mean? Nosy, ain't you?"
"Ain't gonna go on me." Nissa manages a small, amused smile at that, "Gonna cut 'em up, make Vani some baby clothes." The current shirt she's looking at is forgotten at the mention of the two holds. Of the several things that flicker in her eyes, mild confusion wins, "Why's that?" Casually spoken. Curious. As to the other, her chin jerks up again, gold glints amongst the hazel of her eyes, "Supposed to mean did he tell ya Trey would never be doin' what ya said he was!" Firmly spoken that, but without heat. She shrugs at that last bit, stubbornly adding as she lowers her eyes back to that shirt she's holding, "Just don't like to see friends make mistakes."
Mention of baby clothes makes B'kaiv about as curious and interested as you'd expect from a healthy young male, i.e., not at all. He grunts instead and starts digging through his treasures, draping the singletons over the crate's lip. "Why's what? An' shells, I know he's your brother an' all, but that don't mean he's always right. But I told him as I weren't gonna go after Trey until we got proof." Not if, until. He adds, after another second and a pointed pause, "Not that it's none of your business. Unless you're th' one as been stealing an' making them fake marks."
Matter-of-fact: "Conserving material. All them raids." Nissa offhandedly adds as she drops the shirt to the pile, which is eyed with an air of satisfaction. She lifts the lid to the box, replaces it and turns pushing with her hands to hop up and have a seat on the sturdy carton, arranging her flowing skirts for comfort. "Meant why'd you not wanna be a guard in them places? You brought it up, so." A shrug follows and then laughter bubbles, her eyes dance, "My brother has nothin' to do with why I know Trey ain't stealin'." All levity is short-lived, however. "Look at me, Kai, d'you think I'd be helpin' folks with stealin' and makin' false marks?" Her expression is open for him to read, a clear-eyed gaze to meet his if he does look as she insists, "And it /is/ my business, too!"
B'kaiv says, "Them shirts might still be good t' wear," though he doesn't come over to tear them from her hands and examine them himself. Of course, this is a man who walks around in clothes until they practically fall off from exhaustion, so he might be biased about what still has wear in it. Thoughtfully, "'Cause... I dunno as I could work for nobody as'd short other folk. We didn't hold with none of that back home. The Weavers here is like that too - cheats, I mean." He finally finds a matching pair, sensible brown with blue at the heel and toe, nods, and stuffs them into a pocket that still has a bit of space. He does look over with one of his customary half frowns. "Shells yeah, you could. Don't think as you /done/ it, but you can't tell as a man - or a girl - is a thief just t' look at 'em. An' unless th' Weyrleader's been havin' you do stuff t' look," this firmly, quellingly, "It ain't none of your business."
Faint surprise, "The man said to look in this box," Nissa explains with a wave of her arm towards wherever the storeroom worker disappeared to. Unconcerned with the rider's opinion on clothes, she considers, her thoughtful reply coming after he's stuffing his pockets, "Makes sense. So y'all found out for sure those holders were in on it. Trails are all done then?" Huh. Who knew? That half-frown is met with an unruffled calm, "True. Can't tell just by lookin'. But there's ways I guess ya don't know 'bout." She points out as she takes his measure through her lashes. Casually, "How d'you feel when folks say you're dumb just cos of how ya talk?" That look sent her way has her inhaling and she almost - almost doesn't continue, "Is too!" But she doesn't assure him whether T'rev has set her a task or not.
'The man said' has Kai grunting; another moment and he shrugs and turns back to his sock-hunting. "Guess as they told you it were all right." As for Gar, that gets another shrug. "Dunno. That's for th' Weyrleader an' Lord Fort t' decide, not th' likes of me an' you. I just know what I seen. An'," this time he snorts, indulgently, "I /am/ stupid. Just ask anyone, 'specially th' Harpers. I'm good with numbers, that's about it. Can't all be your brother, now can we?"
"Oh." Cue confused blinking on Nissa's part. "So they've proved nothin' about Fort Sea and Gar." Nissa looks down at her feet, crossed at the ankles, where they gently swing with a faint, regular tap against that carton she's sitting on. "So beatin' up Trey cos he's from there... I just don't get that. How was that supposed to help?" She's struggling with getting a grasp on all of it, by her tone. She tilts a sideways look up at him, staunchly "And you're /not/ stupid!" A breath out, "It ain't all about harper grades. Stupid is..." She lifts her head, breaking off her own thoughts at that last bit, a bemused smile on her lips, "My brother?? Why do you do that - compare yourself to other folks?"
The greenrider sighs, much put upon, and stops his sock-hunting to face her square on. "It /ain't/," he says again, and more firmly this time, "None of your business. /You/ Lord Holder of Fort? Weyrleader? Weyrwoman? No? Then keep your sharding nose -out- of it. Shells!" He stares at her, utterly flabbergasted, for a good handful of seconds before shaking his head and turning back to his chore, though he shoots the Neratian disbelieving sidelong looks and doesn't seem to care if she sees. "'Cause your brother's smart. /An'/ sharding lucky. Shells - just look at what all he got going for him: got a bronze, he's th' sharding /Weyrleader/ of /Fort/, his Da's the flaming /Masterharper/, he got women just /throwing/ themselves at him. Anything he wants, he don't got t' do nothing a'sides put his hand out, an' he got it."
Vanissa hears B'kaiv out stoically, her face neutral until he quiets. Calmly, "Ya finished?" Unusual exasperation, mild though it is, tints her voice, "Ya don't own Pern's problems, Kai. Ya ain't Lord Holder, Weyrleader or whatever, but ya act like ya own them - at least the one with these thieves!" Her voice is even, low-pitched as she drops her head again and continues, "Tis so my business! It's weighin' on my brother and I-" She looks up at him, tears of frustration sparkle in her eyes, "I can see what the stress does to 'im and I'd do anything to help lift that from 'im. You-" She shakes her head, doggedly continuing, "-weren't helpin' goin' after Trey." That sidelong look is noted, lips part to interrupt his list of her brother's supposed good fortune, but she waits patiently. When he's done there's no judgment, no lecture. She leans towards him, seeking his eyes, trying to impart sincerity, her words earnestly spoken, "You're missin' the most important thing he's got Kai."
B'kaiv flings up his hands at her question and starts flipping the socks on the crate's edge back into their wooden prison. "Yeah. Sure. I'm finished." He doesn't look over after, not once, though Nissa will have a fine view of the tense muscles in his jaw and can imagine the ones in his shoulders and back, especially when he has to bend to retrieve a mis-matched pair from the floor. "Look," he tells them, "I don't care. A'right? Don't sharding /care/. You wanna prance around shoving your nose int' everything? Fine. Don't come crying t' /nobody/ when it gets bit off." He flings them into the box and shoves the lid more or less on, uncaring of both the fit and how loud the rattle is of wood on wood.
Vanissa leans back with a quiet sigh, watching the display of ire. Unusually sober for her, she waits until the rattling quiets, then continues as if in a normal give and take conversation, "He's content, Kai. He was content back home 'fore he had any of those things. He'd've been happy on a traders trail with the wind n' sky." She draws a thoughtful breath in, "And ya may not care-" she's not about to argue that one! "-but folks don't usually get mad 'bout stuff for no reason a'tall." She shifts on that carton, drawing her legs up, clasping her arms about her skirt, puzzling something out in her mind for a few beats. "Y'think I'll get hurt? How's that?"
After the rattling there's scraping, as Kai gives the crate a kick to shove it closer to the shelves and out of the main aisle. Only then, brushing off his hands like a man trying to rid them of a coat of dirt, does he again glance her way. "I'm done," is all he says then, voice raised only enough to ride right over her words. "Afternoon, Candidate." And with that - as simple as that - he turns and stalks off, not looking back.
Vanissa remains where she is as Kai departs, hazel eyes thoughtfully upon his back until he is out of sight. She shakes her head, murmuring to herself, "No wonder T'rev doesn't understand 'im. Angry he says. Nope. More like scared." She hops up then, scoops up that pile of shirts and heads out, humming a cheerful tune.
Shells, she's nice to look at, but she don't never stop /talking/! Don't wonder as T'rev left his place no more, if all he got is sisters. Probably his ears didn't stop ringing until he come to Fort.