(no subject)
That was hilarious. Brady and I were talking about sex kind of bluntly and Neana walked in while we weren't really paying attention, and started complaining about how long it had been since she'd had sex. We were totally flumoxed, and she was totally flirting with Brady. I mean a LOT.
I have to admit, though. I really wish I were better able to control my drool when I'm talking to an attractive female Apprentice half my age who's had sex more recently than me.
I think I may have semi-committed myself to getting myself stuck in some kind of athletic contest before too much longer. Good for me. Not happy, though. I should really get used to it, though.
Healer Lounge
Brady comes into the mostly empty lounge with a faint bounce to his step. He spots Tuval and plots a course towards the other man, dropping himself into a chair. "So," he begins conversationally, "Morallen threatened to kill me the other day."
Tuval is doing some of his hidework and looks up at Brady's arrival. "Were you having sex with his sister at the time?" he inquires, all mock innocence, his pen posed above the hide he was correcting.
"Not the technical moment, no," Brady says. "Or a technical sister. Or, technically, sex." He pauses, then says by way of explanation: "Celeste. And I. Are... involved."
Tuval seems a bit taken aback to have been so close. On an emotional level, if not so much a literal level. "Ah...He's close to her, huh? She's a sort of near-sister to him? And he gave you the ..." He pauses. "Was he interfering enough to give the 'back off or I'll kill you' or did he stick with 'if you hurt her, I'll kill you?'"
"The latter," Brady says. He leans back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other knee. "He was worried I was in it for the thrill of the hunt, trying to corrupt an innocent so I could get her in the sack and then drop her." Pause. "I'm not That Guy. Do people think I'm That Guy?"
"Mmmm...you come across a little bit That Guy-ish...What the hell am I saying." Tuval looks horrified at his own mutilation of the language. "You didn't waste any time getting yourself laid after promotion. I mean, can you blame him for being a little cautious when he's really never seen you exert yourself in a serious relationship before?"
Brady frowns. "/Everyone/ gets themselves laid after promotion," he gripes. "It's a tradition. When Rianys did it, Morallen was practically playing matchmaker." Sulk. "Besides, spending months trying to seduce a sweet innocent thing for a single night is so not worth it. Innocence is overrated. In the sack. Experience is definitely better."
"Well, yes, and I'm glad you figured that out quickly," Tuval agrees, "but Morallen doesn't have any particular reason to know that /you/ know. Y'know?" That one was intentional. "So you're serious about her, huh?"
"Serious enough," Brady says. His fingertips drum a stacatto pattern on the chair arm, then still. "She's pleasant. And sweet. And... squishy in the right places. And she just... lights up a room."
Tuval's eyebrows lift at the description of Celeste's squishiness. "That she does. She gave me a flower the other day. Seemed to be just handing them out. It'd be nauseating if it weren't so obviously genuine." He smiles wryly. "Nice catch, my friend, death threats aside."
"I don't think he was too serious," Brady says. "Although it was kind of hard not to mess with him when he was trying to be intimidating. I mean... he's a good fifteen turns older than me. I hardly think it would even be a fair fight."
"Well, the flip side is that Morallen was beating up riders when you were squalling at your mother," Tuval, the considerably older man, replies. "I advise against hurting his feelings on the subject. Old folks are like tunnelsnakes: vicious when wounded."
Brady snorts. "Riders," he says. "Pansies. I beat up a sailor two turns back." Pause. "Ah. You don't know about that."
Tuval arches one eyebrow, managing to keep a straight face. He would look disapproving if his eyes didn't twinkle. "Mm-hm," he says, stalling for time to keep his expression under control. "Well, if you're ever attacked by a rider, you're free to borrow my cane to fend them off. If it's Morallen...you're on your own."
"Man, you'd leave me to take care of myself?" Brady says in mock-indignation. "Dangerous proposition: you know that. I totally need you there to make my enemies laugh until they wet themselves and flee in humiliation."
Tuval snorts. "If you need /that/, Brady, you can swipe my leg and make me hop after you," he replies. "Though...on sober reflection, I don't think it'd work that well on Morallen, anyway. But hey, even if you're /not/ in a fight, you can count on me to mock you incessantly."
"I appreciate that," Brady says deadpan.
Tuval nods sanctimoniously. "Thank you. It's nice to be appreciated." He looks down at his hides for a moment, then back up. "So anyway. How long have you had this thing with Celeste? She's not back at the Hall yet, is she?"
Neana walks in from the Apprentice Dormitory.
"No, but hopefully soon," Brady says. "She and I have had a few dates over a few months. Dinner here, and then talking, and then I rode out to Grinstead to see her, and then she was here over her birthday, and we went down to the gardens."
Tuval chuckles. "Shards, you two are going to be absolutely /nauseatingly/ cute, aren't you?" he asks Brady rhetorically. "You're going to be on best behavior and she's going to be...well, Celeste."
"Do you realize I haven't had sex in two months?" Brady says plaintively. "I'm trying to be... I don't know. Boyfriend material. Being a stud is a lot more fun in the short term." He pauses, then nods his chin towards Tuval and says, "What about you, anyway? With as much wood as you're packing, I'd think the ladies would be all over you."
Neana exits the dorms with her lackadaisical shuffle, pausing to lean at the entryway and survey the lounge. One pudgy apprentice wedged in the corner, gnawing at his only study company - a fishroll. Two Journeyman discussing some chick. A few empty tables, and one emoty comfy-looking chair. Wait. Journeymen discussing a chick? As Nea ambles over, she's in time to quip that, "I can top that. Try three and a half," to Brady's sex comment, while she goes about sliding into a the conveniently nearby comfy chair.
Tuval lifts his knee and tugs off his wooden leg, holding it up to inspect. Can't let Brady win the one upsmanship contest. "You know, for some reason, that /isn't/ the use most women think of when they see my shaft," he replies before registering that an Apprentice just came down and complained about the lack of nookie. And of course, he and Brady are setting a /great/ example. He turns his attention to Neana. "I'm...going to never, ever think about that statement ever again. At least not for another five Turns or so."
Brady was overheard by an apprentice. That was... unintentional. He looks a bit taken aback by this, and manages not to hear any of what Tuval is saying. "Ah. Neana." Pause. "Good evening." Pause. Surruptitious glance at Tuval. Look back at Neana. "Ah. How are your classes going?"
"In five turns time, I'll be old and wrinkly and probably wasting away in a rocking chair on some ledge, bickering with all the other Aunties about whose great-grandchildren are prettiest." Neana laments, leaning back and forcing a mock-sigh. "Hi, Journeyman Brady. Classes are classy. I tried to copy some notes on the beach the other day, but... Verde? Ver-something... an older Journeyman. Interrupted me. So. Now I copy notes in the gardens, instead."
Tuval looks down at himself, then up at Brady. "You know, I don't think my outlook about my future was ever /that/ bleak," he observes mildly. Then back to Neana. "So you're what..." He guesses. "Sixteen? Seventeen? Which'd make you about half my age, so I think you're compaining to the wrong audience." He pauses, then puts in, "I like the gardens. Good scenery there."
Oh, thank Faranth. Sex talk successfully detoured. Now thinking about wrinkly old aunties. Much better visual. In an odd sort of way. Brady relaxes a bit again, quirking a smile at Tuval. "You should walk down there more," he points out to the distinctly overweight journeyman. "It'd be good for you. Neana and I head through there on jogs some mornings."
Neana wrinkles her nose, her eyes doing a quick round of the room again. "There's a correct audience to complain to, about getting wrinkly and having pretty great-grandchildren?" She shoots back to Tuval, swinging the front two feet of her chair off the ground. "'Cause I need to find that audience, man." And now, Neana is precariously balancing n two chair-legs. What a party trick! "The gardens are nice. That's why I copy notes there. That, and the fact that sleazy old men tend to frequent the beach more often than the gardens, since bikini's aren't the general uniform there."
Aw, /hell/. There goes Brady's mind again.
Neana can't help if Brady falls into the sleazy old man category.
Tuval's mind is in the gutter too. And he surely qualifies as older than Brady. He looks at Neana, blinks, and looks down at his hides. Then he realizes his still holding his wooden leg and goes to put it back in place, rolling up his pant leg to the knee, revealing a short stump below his knee, to which he straps the leg. "The correct audience is people your own age and younger," he replies dryly. Then he frowns. "Uh. Gardens. Nice. Nice stems...nice flowers. Plants." He lifts one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, distracting him briefly. "I much prefer the hall for hidework, but the garden's a lot better for painting."
It is vaguely painful how much words like 'stems' and 'flowers' are coming across as dirty now. "Mm," Brady says easily. "And dirt. Lots of dirt." He mentions it only because it's fairly non-sexual. As is: "Oh, Tuval. My mother asked me to pass on a hello in her last letter."
Shardin' holders. Crafters. Same difference. "Right. I'll remember that." She tosses back shortly to Tuval's dry response, watching as he replaces his... leg. Odd, yet fascinating. As is all the talk of stems, and flowers, and... dirt. Shardin'... wait, already said that. "Don't you feel... trapped, inside? You should try hidework in the gardens sometime. There's a real nice little spot, tucked away from the main path. It's easier to like, concentrate, I reckon, with the sounds of outside."
Tuval gives Brady a Look at the mention of dirt. One of those, 'oh, yeah, we are so totally screwed' looks that is full of self-deprecating amusement. Then he gets his leg firmly into place, strapped onto the end of his shortened limb. "Ah, yes...I should send her a short note. But tell her I said hello when you write back." He smiles wanly at Neana. "Eh, maybe for you. Personally, it gets too sharding hot out for my taste. And I like being inside a Hold or Hall; feels like the right place for /work/ to me." Safe topics! Safe. Tuval breathes just a little easier.
"You'd get hot less if you were in better shape," Brady points out with the kind of good-natured criticism friends can get away with. To Neana, he says, "I wish more people felt like you. Too many apprentices don't seem to get any sun at all. I feel like we've declared war on melanin, some days."
"That /was/ the idea of copying on the beach... working on my tan at the same time. But." The rest is probably better left unsaid, Neana decides, given the previous reactions the words 'beach' and 'bikini' have garnered. Brady's comments draw a big smile, and Neana lets her chair down to rest on all four legs again. "Yeah, there's a few pasty-lookin' boys," She notes oh-so-tactfully. "I don't understand why anyone would /not/ want to get outside, especially with gardens and beaches like the ones here. It's a real waste, if y'ask me."
"Yes, but you know fat men are funnier," Tuval counters Brady easily. "And I need to keep my edge if I wanna keep you on as my straight-man." Tuval is not quite pasty, but what tan he has is very firmly confined to his head, neck and forearms. He manages to keep from descending into the gutter again immediately. "Yeah, well. First Turn or so is usually pretty hard work." He glances at Neana, arching an eyebrow with a hint of a waggle.
Brady just gives Tuval a look for a minute as he brushes off Brady's concerns -- a not unexpected reaction, and not one Brady will contest, but the look lends an undertone of sincerity to his original comment. And then his eyes go back to Neana. "Need to get a few regular pick-up games going on with the apprentices," he says. "Maybe I'll find someone to be my hatchet man for that. There's only one current senior apprentice who plays with my group, and the younger apprentices really wouldn't do well with it."
Neana gives a very put-upon sigh. "It /is/ pretty hard, yeah." She agrees with Tuval, adding that, "My dad gave me some of his old notes, though... nothing's changed all /that/ much. And he took mass amounts of notes." Not to mention the sometimes rather crude drawings in the side-margins. Back to Brady, "I'd be up for organizing a few of the lazier ones, if you want. Sometimes kids react better when it's not, like, their teachers tellin' 'em what to do?"
Tuval's mouth quirks briefly at Brady's longer look, unspoken acknowledgement that yes, Brady is right. But it won't do them any good to discuss it further at the moment. "Ah, copious notes would probably help," he admits. "This...is not going to be my project, I foresee with unnatural clarity."
"You a sports fan?" Brady asks Neana. "It would be nice if you could. Any sort of game would be helpful -- volleyball, maybe. Volleyball's one of those games that apprentices tend to like."
"Ish." Neana admits to Brady, rocking her chair back onto two legs again. "I like bein' outdoors, is what. And I'm sure I could convince a few people to have a regular game of beach volleyball." On the sand. Bikini-style? It's one way to convince apprentices, right? "Dad was a nerd, I think." She tosses back to Tuval, rolling her eyes slightly. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, a'course. Nerds rule. And... stuff."
"You're not kidding," Tuval replies to Neana firmly. Guess where he fell on the jock-nerd spectrum? Should not require two guesses. He goes back, for the moment, to working on some of his hidework, though his ears remain open.
Brady just gives a grin at that, then says, "I should get moving. I've got an infirmary shift. Good talking to you two, though."
Neana should really know better than to make nerd-comments. Really. "Um, yeah." This is awkward. Chair comes down again. Brady to the rescue! "Oh, ok, see you tomorrow morning, probably. I'll let you know how I go with the volleyball roundup." She replies brightly, flashing a grin. Phew.
Tuval chuckles as Brady gets up to go. "Enjoy your shift," he says, partially serious. "I don't get along with the beach well, I have to admit. Sand's pretty crappy to walk on with rough balance." He speaks as he writes on one of the hides, apparently reasonably practiced at doing both at once.
"Sounds good," Brady says to Neana, pushing up to his feet with a cheerful nod. "See you tomorrow, then." And off he goes.
Brady walks to the Healer Great Hall.
"Oh, right." Neana returns, back to awkward now Brady's gone and left her with the ner- with Tuval. "If you wanted to play, we could always make it... field-volleyball?" She suggests, in the most helpful of tones she can muster.
Tuval chuckles. "Probably not tomorrow, anyway," he replies to Neana lightly. "I think a walk in the gardens is much more my speed for exercise. Perhaps another day, or I'll come out long enough to watch. Or officiate." He glances up at Neana. "Hey. Would I know your father? I forget now."
Neana nods, simply happy there's not more firm tone in Tuval's response. She said something unoffensive! Finally! "You should play. On my team - against Journeyman Brady. We could kick his... behind. I reckon, anyway." She cringes at the reference to Dad, reaching up to scratch at the back of her neck. "Uh, probably. He's pretty well-known," Un/fortunately, "Nowadays... N'ano?"
Tuval chuckles at Neana. "I have /never/ been that coordinated," he confesses. "If I show, I'll figure out what I can do." He rubs his chin for a moment, looking up briefly. "Hm. Rider, huh? Think I know the name, though I can't say as I've ever met him. I'm not a life-long Istan...Istaner? Haven't lived here more than about three Turns."
"Yeah. You should at least come referee for us. And Dad - used to be um, shaf- Nanoc. He was, uh... weyrleader for a bit, at Ista. He's the weyrsecond at the moment." Neana supplies hesitantly, crossing her legs. If you're not chair-swinging, you gotta do something, after all. "I was at High Reaches for a bit, m'self. He did his apprenticeship at Paradise, I think... or part of it, anyway. Where're you from?"
"Right," Tuval says slowly as she reminds him of who exactly her father is. "Yeah, I heard his name, but not so much about him. I'm from Fort originally. Started there, apprenticed at the Hall there, got my knot...transfered a couple Turns back. Still don't feel used to the heat here, I must admit."
"Oh, Fort. Yeah, I can see why you'd find it a bit stuffy here, then. I've been mostly at Ista, so I guess'm just used to it." She's not bold enough to venture any remedy for getting used to the heat - namely enjoying it during a good game of volleyball. Surely badgering Tuval into exercise is Brady's job, right? "I'm sorry if I, um, interrupted you or anything." And there's one realization that came a little late. Just a /little/.
Tuval glances up for a moment. "Hm? Brady already inter -- oh. No, Brady and I were just having conversations that were probably more than a little inappropriate for middle of the lounge where apprentices might wander in, so it's entirely our fault if you came in on us. 'sides, we finished up with anything resembling real substance /long/ before you came in. If we were down to penis jokes, we were done with anything resembling civilized conversation." He manages not to sound embarassed either, since he's only /discussing/ penis jokes, rather than making them. "In any case, I'm just ...about ...done here," he says, marking a grade with a flourish (a good grade) and sitting back. "I should get back in. Nice to chat with you for a bit, though."
Neana laughs. At the discussion of penis-jokes. Because that's what teenage girls do when you say the word penis, Tuval. At any rate, it's not a nervous laugh on her part, either - weyrbred over here. "Yeah, you might scare some of the younger girls with those kind of jokes... or make the boys jealous. Y'know, packing that much wood, n'stuff." Her eyes drop down to the replaced 'leg', then follow back up to Tuval's face, wry grin intact. Embarrassed now, Journeyman? "Anyways. I should probably get back to my E&E notes, too, I guess. Though it's probably a bit late for garden-study."
Tuval was expecting the laugh. He winces. Damn, she /did/ hear all that humor. Ah, well, at least he doesn't seem to have actually corrupted anyone. He's not precisely embarassed at this point, now that he's no longer off balance in the conversation, but he is somewhat chagrined at his lack of care in that particular conversation. He elects to let the subject pass by. "Can never be too prepared for the ethical issues of a Healer," he replies almost piously. "Have a good night." He collects his hides in a stack under his arm and starts moving awkwardly toward his room.
And Neana, she just swings back on her chair, watching Tuval go. Time for a bit of reflection, apparently. Journeymen discussing their members will do that to a girl!
I have to admit, though. I really wish I were better able to control my drool when I'm talking to an attractive female Apprentice half my age who's had sex more recently than me.
I think I may have semi-committed myself to getting myself stuck in some kind of athletic contest before too much longer. Good for me. Not happy, though. I should really get used to it, though.
Healer Lounge
Brady comes into the mostly empty lounge with a faint bounce to his step. He spots Tuval and plots a course towards the other man, dropping himself into a chair. "So," he begins conversationally, "Morallen threatened to kill me the other day."
Tuval is doing some of his hidework and looks up at Brady's arrival. "Were you having sex with his sister at the time?" he inquires, all mock innocence, his pen posed above the hide he was correcting.
"Not the technical moment, no," Brady says. "Or a technical sister. Or, technically, sex." He pauses, then says by way of explanation: "Celeste. And I. Are... involved."
Tuval seems a bit taken aback to have been so close. On an emotional level, if not so much a literal level. "Ah...He's close to her, huh? She's a sort of near-sister to him? And he gave you the ..." He pauses. "Was he interfering enough to give the 'back off or I'll kill you' or did he stick with 'if you hurt her, I'll kill you?'"
"The latter," Brady says. He leans back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other knee. "He was worried I was in it for the thrill of the hunt, trying to corrupt an innocent so I could get her in the sack and then drop her." Pause. "I'm not That Guy. Do people think I'm That Guy?"
"Mmmm...you come across a little bit That Guy-ish...What the hell am I saying." Tuval looks horrified at his own mutilation of the language. "You didn't waste any time getting yourself laid after promotion. I mean, can you blame him for being a little cautious when he's really never seen you exert yourself in a serious relationship before?"
Brady frowns. "/Everyone/ gets themselves laid after promotion," he gripes. "It's a tradition. When Rianys did it, Morallen was practically playing matchmaker." Sulk. "Besides, spending months trying to seduce a sweet innocent thing for a single night is so not worth it. Innocence is overrated. In the sack. Experience is definitely better."
"Well, yes, and I'm glad you figured that out quickly," Tuval agrees, "but Morallen doesn't have any particular reason to know that /you/ know. Y'know?" That one was intentional. "So you're serious about her, huh?"
"Serious enough," Brady says. His fingertips drum a stacatto pattern on the chair arm, then still. "She's pleasant. And sweet. And... squishy in the right places. And she just... lights up a room."
Tuval's eyebrows lift at the description of Celeste's squishiness. "That she does. She gave me a flower the other day. Seemed to be just handing them out. It'd be nauseating if it weren't so obviously genuine." He smiles wryly. "Nice catch, my friend, death threats aside."
"I don't think he was too serious," Brady says. "Although it was kind of hard not to mess with him when he was trying to be intimidating. I mean... he's a good fifteen turns older than me. I hardly think it would even be a fair fight."
"Well, the flip side is that Morallen was beating up riders when you were squalling at your mother," Tuval, the considerably older man, replies. "I advise against hurting his feelings on the subject. Old folks are like tunnelsnakes: vicious when wounded."
Brady snorts. "Riders," he says. "Pansies. I beat up a sailor two turns back." Pause. "Ah. You don't know about that."
Tuval arches one eyebrow, managing to keep a straight face. He would look disapproving if his eyes didn't twinkle. "Mm-hm," he says, stalling for time to keep his expression under control. "Well, if you're ever attacked by a rider, you're free to borrow my cane to fend them off. If it's Morallen...you're on your own."
"Man, you'd leave me to take care of myself?" Brady says in mock-indignation. "Dangerous proposition: you know that. I totally need you there to make my enemies laugh until they wet themselves and flee in humiliation."
Tuval snorts. "If you need /that/, Brady, you can swipe my leg and make me hop after you," he replies. "Though...on sober reflection, I don't think it'd work that well on Morallen, anyway. But hey, even if you're /not/ in a fight, you can count on me to mock you incessantly."
"I appreciate that," Brady says deadpan.
Tuval nods sanctimoniously. "Thank you. It's nice to be appreciated." He looks down at his hides for a moment, then back up. "So anyway. How long have you had this thing with Celeste? She's not back at the Hall yet, is she?"
Neana walks in from the Apprentice Dormitory.
"No, but hopefully soon," Brady says. "She and I have had a few dates over a few months. Dinner here, and then talking, and then I rode out to Grinstead to see her, and then she was here over her birthday, and we went down to the gardens."
Tuval chuckles. "Shards, you two are going to be absolutely /nauseatingly/ cute, aren't you?" he asks Brady rhetorically. "You're going to be on best behavior and she's going to be...well, Celeste."
"Do you realize I haven't had sex in two months?" Brady says plaintively. "I'm trying to be... I don't know. Boyfriend material. Being a stud is a lot more fun in the short term." He pauses, then nods his chin towards Tuval and says, "What about you, anyway? With as much wood as you're packing, I'd think the ladies would be all over you."
Neana exits the dorms with her lackadaisical shuffle, pausing to lean at the entryway and survey the lounge. One pudgy apprentice wedged in the corner, gnawing at his only study company - a fishroll. Two Journeyman discussing some chick. A few empty tables, and one emoty comfy-looking chair. Wait. Journeymen discussing a chick? As Nea ambles over, she's in time to quip that, "I can top that. Try three and a half," to Brady's sex comment, while she goes about sliding into a the conveniently nearby comfy chair.
Tuval lifts his knee and tugs off his wooden leg, holding it up to inspect. Can't let Brady win the one upsmanship contest. "You know, for some reason, that /isn't/ the use most women think of when they see my shaft," he replies before registering that an Apprentice just came down and complained about the lack of nookie. And of course, he and Brady are setting a /great/ example. He turns his attention to Neana. "I'm...going to never, ever think about that statement ever again. At least not for another five Turns or so."
Brady was overheard by an apprentice. That was... unintentional. He looks a bit taken aback by this, and manages not to hear any of what Tuval is saying. "Ah. Neana." Pause. "Good evening." Pause. Surruptitious glance at Tuval. Look back at Neana. "Ah. How are your classes going?"
"In five turns time, I'll be old and wrinkly and probably wasting away in a rocking chair on some ledge, bickering with all the other Aunties about whose great-grandchildren are prettiest." Neana laments, leaning back and forcing a mock-sigh. "Hi, Journeyman Brady. Classes are classy. I tried to copy some notes on the beach the other day, but... Verde? Ver-something... an older Journeyman. Interrupted me. So. Now I copy notes in the gardens, instead."
Tuval looks down at himself, then up at Brady. "You know, I don't think my outlook about my future was ever /that/ bleak," he observes mildly. Then back to Neana. "So you're what..." He guesses. "Sixteen? Seventeen? Which'd make you about half my age, so I think you're compaining to the wrong audience." He pauses, then puts in, "I like the gardens. Good scenery there."
Oh, thank Faranth. Sex talk successfully detoured. Now thinking about wrinkly old aunties. Much better visual. In an odd sort of way. Brady relaxes a bit again, quirking a smile at Tuval. "You should walk down there more," he points out to the distinctly overweight journeyman. "It'd be good for you. Neana and I head through there on jogs some mornings."
Neana wrinkles her nose, her eyes doing a quick round of the room again. "There's a correct audience to complain to, about getting wrinkly and having pretty great-grandchildren?" She shoots back to Tuval, swinging the front two feet of her chair off the ground. "'Cause I need to find that audience, man." And now, Neana is precariously balancing n two chair-legs. What a party trick! "The gardens are nice. That's why I copy notes there. That, and the fact that sleazy old men tend to frequent the beach more often than the gardens, since bikini's aren't the general uniform there."
Aw, /hell/. There goes Brady's mind again.
Neana can't help if Brady falls into the sleazy old man category.
Tuval's mind is in the gutter too. And he surely qualifies as older than Brady. He looks at Neana, blinks, and looks down at his hides. Then he realizes his still holding his wooden leg and goes to put it back in place, rolling up his pant leg to the knee, revealing a short stump below his knee, to which he straps the leg. "The correct audience is people your own age and younger," he replies dryly. Then he frowns. "Uh. Gardens. Nice. Nice stems...nice flowers. Plants." He lifts one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, distracting him briefly. "I much prefer the hall for hidework, but the garden's a lot better for painting."
It is vaguely painful how much words like 'stems' and 'flowers' are coming across as dirty now. "Mm," Brady says easily. "And dirt. Lots of dirt." He mentions it only because it's fairly non-sexual. As is: "Oh, Tuval. My mother asked me to pass on a hello in her last letter."
Shardin' holders. Crafters. Same difference. "Right. I'll remember that." She tosses back shortly to Tuval's dry response, watching as he replaces his... leg. Odd, yet fascinating. As is all the talk of stems, and flowers, and... dirt. Shardin'... wait, already said that. "Don't you feel... trapped, inside? You should try hidework in the gardens sometime. There's a real nice little spot, tucked away from the main path. It's easier to like, concentrate, I reckon, with the sounds of outside."
Tuval gives Brady a Look at the mention of dirt. One of those, 'oh, yeah, we are so totally screwed' looks that is full of self-deprecating amusement. Then he gets his leg firmly into place, strapped onto the end of his shortened limb. "Ah, yes...I should send her a short note. But tell her I said hello when you write back." He smiles wanly at Neana. "Eh, maybe for you. Personally, it gets too sharding hot out for my taste. And I like being inside a Hold or Hall; feels like the right place for /work/ to me." Safe topics! Safe. Tuval breathes just a little easier.
"You'd get hot less if you were in better shape," Brady points out with the kind of good-natured criticism friends can get away with. To Neana, he says, "I wish more people felt like you. Too many apprentices don't seem to get any sun at all. I feel like we've declared war on melanin, some days."
"That /was/ the idea of copying on the beach... working on my tan at the same time. But." The rest is probably better left unsaid, Neana decides, given the previous reactions the words 'beach' and 'bikini' have garnered. Brady's comments draw a big smile, and Neana lets her chair down to rest on all four legs again. "Yeah, there's a few pasty-lookin' boys," She notes oh-so-tactfully. "I don't understand why anyone would /not/ want to get outside, especially with gardens and beaches like the ones here. It's a real waste, if y'ask me."
"Yes, but you know fat men are funnier," Tuval counters Brady easily. "And I need to keep my edge if I wanna keep you on as my straight-man." Tuval is not quite pasty, but what tan he has is very firmly confined to his head, neck and forearms. He manages to keep from descending into the gutter again immediately. "Yeah, well. First Turn or so is usually pretty hard work." He glances at Neana, arching an eyebrow with a hint of a waggle.
Brady just gives Tuval a look for a minute as he brushes off Brady's concerns -- a not unexpected reaction, and not one Brady will contest, but the look lends an undertone of sincerity to his original comment. And then his eyes go back to Neana. "Need to get a few regular pick-up games going on with the apprentices," he says. "Maybe I'll find someone to be my hatchet man for that. There's only one current senior apprentice who plays with my group, and the younger apprentices really wouldn't do well with it."
Neana gives a very put-upon sigh. "It /is/ pretty hard, yeah." She agrees with Tuval, adding that, "My dad gave me some of his old notes, though... nothing's changed all /that/ much. And he took mass amounts of notes." Not to mention the sometimes rather crude drawings in the side-margins. Back to Brady, "I'd be up for organizing a few of the lazier ones, if you want. Sometimes kids react better when it's not, like, their teachers tellin' 'em what to do?"
Tuval's mouth quirks briefly at Brady's longer look, unspoken acknowledgement that yes, Brady is right. But it won't do them any good to discuss it further at the moment. "Ah, copious notes would probably help," he admits. "This...is not going to be my project, I foresee with unnatural clarity."
"You a sports fan?" Brady asks Neana. "It would be nice if you could. Any sort of game would be helpful -- volleyball, maybe. Volleyball's one of those games that apprentices tend to like."
"Ish." Neana admits to Brady, rocking her chair back onto two legs again. "I like bein' outdoors, is what. And I'm sure I could convince a few people to have a regular game of beach volleyball." On the sand. Bikini-style? It's one way to convince apprentices, right? "Dad was a nerd, I think." She tosses back to Tuval, rolling her eyes slightly. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, a'course. Nerds rule. And... stuff."
"You're not kidding," Tuval replies to Neana firmly. Guess where he fell on the jock-nerd spectrum? Should not require two guesses. He goes back, for the moment, to working on some of his hidework, though his ears remain open.
Brady just gives a grin at that, then says, "I should get moving. I've got an infirmary shift. Good talking to you two, though."
Neana should really know better than to make nerd-comments. Really. "Um, yeah." This is awkward. Chair comes down again. Brady to the rescue! "Oh, ok, see you tomorrow morning, probably. I'll let you know how I go with the volleyball roundup." She replies brightly, flashing a grin. Phew.
Tuval chuckles as Brady gets up to go. "Enjoy your shift," he says, partially serious. "I don't get along with the beach well, I have to admit. Sand's pretty crappy to walk on with rough balance." He speaks as he writes on one of the hides, apparently reasonably practiced at doing both at once.
"Sounds good," Brady says to Neana, pushing up to his feet with a cheerful nod. "See you tomorrow, then." And off he goes.
Brady walks to the Healer Great Hall.
"Oh, right." Neana returns, back to awkward now Brady's gone and left her with the ner- with Tuval. "If you wanted to play, we could always make it... field-volleyball?" She suggests, in the most helpful of tones she can muster.
Tuval chuckles. "Probably not tomorrow, anyway," he replies to Neana lightly. "I think a walk in the gardens is much more my speed for exercise. Perhaps another day, or I'll come out long enough to watch. Or officiate." He glances up at Neana. "Hey. Would I know your father? I forget now."
Neana nods, simply happy there's not more firm tone in Tuval's response. She said something unoffensive! Finally! "You should play. On my team - against Journeyman Brady. We could kick his... behind. I reckon, anyway." She cringes at the reference to Dad, reaching up to scratch at the back of her neck. "Uh, probably. He's pretty well-known," Un/fortunately, "Nowadays... N'ano?"
Tuval chuckles at Neana. "I have /never/ been that coordinated," he confesses. "If I show, I'll figure out what I can do." He rubs his chin for a moment, looking up briefly. "Hm. Rider, huh? Think I know the name, though I can't say as I've ever met him. I'm not a life-long Istan...Istaner? Haven't lived here more than about three Turns."
"Yeah. You should at least come referee for us. And Dad - used to be um, shaf- Nanoc. He was, uh... weyrleader for a bit, at Ista. He's the weyrsecond at the moment." Neana supplies hesitantly, crossing her legs. If you're not chair-swinging, you gotta do something, after all. "I was at High Reaches for a bit, m'self. He did his apprenticeship at Paradise, I think... or part of it, anyway. Where're you from?"
"Right," Tuval says slowly as she reminds him of who exactly her father is. "Yeah, I heard his name, but not so much about him. I'm from Fort originally. Started there, apprenticed at the Hall there, got my knot...transfered a couple Turns back. Still don't feel used to the heat here, I must admit."
"Oh, Fort. Yeah, I can see why you'd find it a bit stuffy here, then. I've been mostly at Ista, so I guess'm just used to it." She's not bold enough to venture any remedy for getting used to the heat - namely enjoying it during a good game of volleyball. Surely badgering Tuval into exercise is Brady's job, right? "I'm sorry if I, um, interrupted you or anything." And there's one realization that came a little late. Just a /little/.
Tuval glances up for a moment. "Hm? Brady already inter -- oh. No, Brady and I were just having conversations that were probably more than a little inappropriate for middle of the lounge where apprentices might wander in, so it's entirely our fault if you came in on us. 'sides, we finished up with anything resembling real substance /long/ before you came in. If we were down to penis jokes, we were done with anything resembling civilized conversation." He manages not to sound embarassed either, since he's only /discussing/ penis jokes, rather than making them. "In any case, I'm just ...about ...done here," he says, marking a grade with a flourish (a good grade) and sitting back. "I should get back in. Nice to chat with you for a bit, though."
Neana laughs. At the discussion of penis-jokes. Because that's what teenage girls do when you say the word penis, Tuval. At any rate, it's not a nervous laugh on her part, either - weyrbred over here. "Yeah, you might scare some of the younger girls with those kind of jokes... or make the boys jealous. Y'know, packing that much wood, n'stuff." Her eyes drop down to the replaced 'leg', then follow back up to Tuval's face, wry grin intact. Embarrassed now, Journeyman? "Anyways. I should probably get back to my E&E notes, too, I guess. Though it's probably a bit late for garden-study."
Tuval was expecting the laugh. He winces. Damn, she /did/ hear all that humor. Ah, well, at least he doesn't seem to have actually corrupted anyone. He's not precisely embarassed at this point, now that he's no longer off balance in the conversation, but he is somewhat chagrined at his lack of care in that particular conversation. He elects to let the subject pass by. "Can never be too prepared for the ethical issues of a Healer," he replies almost piously. "Have a good night." He collects his hides in a stack under his arm and starts moving awkwardly toward his room.
And Neana, she just swings back on her chair, watching Tuval go. Time for a bit of reflection, apparently. Journeymen discussing their members will do that to a girl!