Kaboom!
Who: Br'ce, Aida
Where: Upper Caverns -> Caucus Office
When: Afternoon day 18, month 4, turn 2.
What: Reunited! Aww, they're so cute. It looks like they're going to make up so well!
It's a slightly harried-looking wingleader who is walking down the hall, hair looking slightly rumpled and askew. He's trying to read a hide, sip tea, and walk at the same time, resulting in a sort of erratic weave that has the others in the hall giving him a wide berth. There are slight dark circles under his eyes, and he looks very tired. Apparently, the business of running a wing is keeping him up late. Or maybe something else. A slight dip in the floor of the hallway causes Br'ce to stumble, spilling hot tea onto his hand. "Agh." An exclamation and a bitten off curse, as he grits his teeth, unable to put the tea mug down anywhere to wipe his hand off.
Click. That would be the door to the caucus's office being tugged closed by Aida's hand, checked once before it's let go and she turns. In sharp contrast, the young woman is well composed and wearing a faint smile, the hint of distraction to her eyes clearly of the pleasant sort. At least she's not humming, but it's very possible that that might start sometime soon. So, she turns, and she starts to slip down the hallway -- and then there's Br'ce. She stops promptly, snapping back to reality and letting her full focus fall on him.
Another muffled grunt--no oaths for Br'ce--and he's looking around for a place to put down the tea mug. There's a distinct lack of convenient coffee tables in the hallways, however. Puddle on the floor is eyed for a moment, and toed for a second. Okay, a drudge can take care of that. A mental sigh, and he looks around--"Aida! Aida." The first one is said with a mix of surprise and hope, the second is more restrained, a somewhat cautiously wary expression on the man's face.
The puddle, the cup of tea, and then Br'ce again -- all of it is eyed, her expression one of those painfully difficult to read sorts of deals that is more neutrality than it is anything else. Aida brings a hand up to ruffle it through the curls at the back of her head, then exhales a soft sigh and steps forward, reaching to take the cup from him. "Br'ce," she greets, her tone touched with dry amusement. "You look tired." It should be noted that there is a distinct addition to the air around Aida; she's wearing a hint of some sort of lavender perfume.
Tea slowly slides down Br'ce's hand and wrist into his sleeve, and drips onto the floor unheeded, an uncertain look on his face at the neutral /lack/. A flicker of relief at the amusement in her tone shows in his eyes. "Wing duties. We may not be flying Thread, but we've still got lots of paperwork and records to catch up on. And I've been familiarizing myself better with the backgrounds of my riders." The hide is waved vaguely. He stops there, uncertain of what else to say. "Er. You look ...pretty." is essayed cautiously.
"You're dripping tea," Aida points out, once she's safely got the cup in hand. It's brought up so she can take a careful drink, and then she's turning around and heading back for the door to the office. "C'mon," she directs lightly. "And thank you. I do try." Beat. "You're looking exhausted due to paperwork, records, and familiarizing yourself with the backgrounds of your riders? You really ought to get more rest, you know."
Br'ce blinks and looks at his hand, turning a slightly lobster-looking color already. Not a burn, precisely, just...scalded. Hand is held at the end of his arm, away from his body, as he pats himself down with the other hand, producing a handkerchief from somewhere to wipe his hand off with. An expression of vague distaste is on his face as he contemplates his wet sleeve, a few futile dabs with the cloth proving not enough to render it dry. "Well, you know, there's a lot of start-up effort in taking over a wing. I put in the time now, and I can rest later once things start to run a little more smoothly. Besides, I haven't been feeling sleepy at night." Making sure he's tired enough to collapse and fall asleep straightaway at night, actually. "Besides, isn't this a bit of a case of the pot calling the kettle black?" A touch of humor as he follows Aida towards the office.
"*I* do not appear like the slightest breeze is going to tip me over and make me pass out due to exhaustion," Aida points out lightly, a thread of a tease in her tone as she winds her way to the office door. It's tugged back open again, and she turns to gesture him on inside, offering up a soft smile. "So no, I don't think that this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black. I know there's a lot of effort involved, but you're not going to be doing anyone any good if you're not getting enough rest. I missed you at the party, the other night."
"It's not that bad. It would take a fairly stiff breeze, at least." Br'ce manages a more convincing smile, feeling already more cheered by Aida's demeanor. There's some color coming back into his cheeks, and he seems more energized already. "I'm doing just fine, really. It's not as bad as you might think. Things are starting to come together." He steps into the office, pausing on the other side to wait for Aida. "Party? Oh, the one for the records-keeper? I wanted to go, she's a very nice lady. Excellent at her job. I was digging through record transcripts, though, and I lost track of time. Planning out different formations and writing out copies for everyone." In triplicate. Things are much harder without carbon copies. "I take it Sefton's not been working you quite as roughly lately?"
"The one for Miniyal's parents, yes," Aida agrees, following him right on into the office and shooing him further ahead of her, tugging the door closed with her free hand. She slides around to head for her desk promptly, setting the tea down on the edge of it and moving over to snag a towel. "I've invited her to come and have tea or wine with us sometime soon; if you could stop in and see her and tell her you're looking forward to it and that you'll be pulling the maps out for her to look at and see if there's any she wants to borrow, I'd appreciate it. Let me see your hand." As she talks, she slips back over to him, punctuating it with her own hand held out towards him, palm up. "And the Headmaster has never been working me roughly." Beat. "And I didn't get to dance much at the party. I wish you had been there." Not 'didn't get to dance at all', of course.
Br'ce says, "Ah, right. T'ral was explaining it to me, but I wasn't really listening." Br'ce admits, sliding into one of the chairs in front of the desk and setting the hide to one side. Us? Us? Did he hear that right? "That would be wonderful!" he burbles enthusiastically, perhaps a bit more than one really should for Miniyal. "Of course, I've got some records to deliver to her anyway. I'd love to invite her by." Obediently, hand is given over to Aida, habits of obedience somewhat ingrained by now. "It's fine, really, the tea wasn't that hot." He coughs, looking slightly embarrassed. "Well. You know that I don't like dancing all that much." Good dancer, but not that enthusiastic about it. "Though I'm really wishing that I had been there, now. Dancing is still much better than scribing." But only when there's Aida involved."
Inspecting his hand carefully, Aida eventually exhales a sigh and shakes her head, giving him a chiding sort of look. "When walking with hot tea, you watch where you are going," she tells him, letting go of his hand and plopping down to sit on his knee. "I mean it." With that said, she turns to pick up that evil cup again, turning back to him and bringing it up for another careful sip. "I like dancing," she points out. "You certainly don't have to dance with me, but I'd feel more comfortable dancing with other people if you were /there/. Roa kept giving me disapproving looks, and it sort of took some of the fun out of it."
"I do." Br'ce says defensively. "I didn't run into any walls or people, did I? I don't normally spill." A smile at Aida. "I don't mind dancing with you at all. And I don't mind your dancing with other people, either. So long as I get the first and the last ones." And for the rest, he'll do his normal holding-up-the-wall posture in some corner somewhere with his wine. "Don't listen to Roa, dear. Dance with whomever you like. I'm not about to get in the way of your enjoying things like that." Hand is retrieved and rubbed absently. "Unless they get a little fresh about it. Then I do mind. No one did, did they?" Frown.
Another sip is taken from his cup of tea before she sets it back down, and leans in to wrap her arms up around his shoulders. Aida leans in to brush a kiss against his jaw, then straightens back up to offer a slight smile. "I didn't think that you'd mind," she says. "And no, nobody got fresh with me. Natain..." There's a glance sent towards her desk, and then her eyes swing back again and she offers another reassuring smile. "He was a perfect gentleman. Never fear. I still wish you'd been there."
Br'ce smiles, looking quite contented and happy, despite the tiredness. He attempts to catch one of her hands as she stands back up, to hold on to it with both of his own. "Natain...?" A slightly confused look towards the desk and back to her. "Well. As long as all the proprieties are observed..." is said uncertainly. "Just remember that you can tell me anything. Really. And I'll do what I can to help. Even if it is, um, sit around and do nothing." He offers up a lopsided smile. "I'll be there at the next party. I promise. First ones there, last to leave, if that sounds good to you. I'll bring a book. And possibly a stout stick, to keep them from rushing you all at once." And a smug expression. Yes, this one's /mine/. Ha!
Aida gives a squeeze to his fingers, shifting to lean back up against the desk and offering him a sweet smile. "I think your head might explode if I Told you everything," she points out lightly, a hint of a tease winding through her tone. "All is well, though. You've nothing to be concerned about. Natain is a friend of mine; a trader. He's all sorts of perfumes and things to sell. Like the lavender I'm wearing; isn't it pretty?" There's just enough of a pause there left to let it sink in, and then she's continuing on, "It does sound good to me, though I don't like staying /that/ late. But...if you'll go with me, I'll be content. And I don't get /rushed/."
Br'ce furrows his brows slightly suspiciously. Head exploding? "Well, as long as none of them get the wrong idea, I won't have to break any of them in half." Or lecture sternly, as the case may be. Though any party behavior will probably be limited to glowering quellingly. "Ah. Well, those are certainly nice." Nostrils flare slightly as he sniffs at the air, leaning in towards Aida to take a deep breath. "Mmm. I certainly could get used to this sort of thing. It does smell very nice. Goes well with the tea." Absently, one thumb strokes the back of her hand. "I promise, I won't rush you. And we'll only stay as long as you like." He might butt in if she looks like she's having too much fun with any one guy, but no rushing. Really. He hesitates for a minute. "Err. Just so I know a little more clearly, what exactly would fall under the category of, ah, 'rushing'?" A sincerely earnest note to his voice.
Pause. Blink. Blink. Aida's head tips to the side a bit, one of her eyebrows lifting up. "Break somebody in half?" She asks, tone all idle curiosity. Still, it may not mean imminent danger this time, because her free hand lifts and reaches out to give a light brush to his cheek with her fingertips, the caress a light one. "In the context of what we were talking about, I think 'rushing' would mean people all stampeding to try and get my attention, which they certainly don't do, and...wouldn't apply for you, anyway." A little shake of her head.
"Metaphorically speaking, of course." Br'ce assures her. "I'm not even sure it's possible to break people in half. It sounds terribly messy. Besides, I'd get T'ral to do it for me. With alacrity." he cheerfully volunteers his friend's services. "This wingleader business is starting to teach me the importance of delegating unpleasant work properly. Something that Sefton also seems to have figured out as well." A grin and a squeeze of Aida's hand indicates the jest in his words. "I'll bring a dance card for you, and make them take turns in an orderly fashion."
"There's no need for anybody to break anyone in half," Aida points out, shaking her head at him and wrinkling up her nose. His nose is tapped with one of her fingers, lightly. "I really can take care of myself." Another squeeze is given to his fingers, and her expression lightens again, her own impish smile flashed. "The Headmaster does not delegate the simply unpleasant work to me. I *like* my job, and do not find it unpleasant in the slightest. Just so you know." Beat. "A dance card is probably a little bit overboard. Thankfully. I'm not *that* popular."
Br'ce says, "That is also true." Br'ce grins. "But sometimes we men need to feel appropriately manly and posture. It's part of the delicate process of preserving our egos. I would ask that you keep this in mind, and try to play the damsel in distress every once in a while. Just to make me feel better." Impulsively, he lifts her hand to plant a kiss on the back of her knuckles. "Well, the other men are idiots. Thankfully. Or else I'd have a much harder time of it." Head is tilted fondly up at her. "I know you do. And I enjoy my job a great deal as well, despite the long hours and tedious work. Which makes us very lucky people, you know. We get the complicatedly unpleasant work, and like it. There's probably some defect in our character.""
Eeeeeew. Aida's nose wrinkles up again, and she gives him an entirely skeptical look that does, thankfully, soften when he kisses the back of her knuckles. She chuckles lightly and shakes her head, reaching out to pat his cheek lightly again. "I don't know if I'm capable of playing the damsel in distress, Br'ce," she points out gently, her voice dropping a bit and turning towards serious and solemn. "It's not in my nature. I wouldn't know how to start. I..." She frowns, giving a little shake of her head and tugging both of her hands back, lifting them to shove her hair back away from her face. "There's definitely a defect in my character," she concludes in agreement, tone dry.
"It's quite simple, from what I hear. You sort of clutch your hands to your bosom and shriek a lot." Br'ce grins. "Possibly faint, but never for the important bits. And never where there's not anyone around to catch you. It's actually quite complicated, now that I think about it." he says absently, tapping the chair arm with one finger. "Just think of yourself as a delicate flower, and it may come a bit more naturally." Impulsively, he scoots the chair sideways a little and himself as well, so he can lean his head against Aida's leg. "That's all right, dear. I know it's not in your nature. That's one of the reasons why I love you so much, remember? But I just want you to remember that you don't /have/ to handle everything yourself." he adds, somewhat scoldingly.
As he explains the damsel in distress routine, Aida's expression goes all sorts of skeptical again. The 'delicate flower' bit has her making a wretched face, probably one similar to what she would look like were she to gag herself with something that tasted positively dreadful. Even so, she brings a hand up to pat at his cheek when he leans against her, and it's all laughed off with a quiet chuckle and a shake of her head. Leaning down, there's a kiss pressed to his forehead, and then she points out quietly, "I know I don't have to. But I do handle what I can. If I need help, I will ask for it." Which will likely end up being admitted to just /after/ the world comes to an end. "You know I've missed you. And you haven't even tried to kiss me yet; I think I'm disappointed."
Br'ce twists his head around to look at her, breaking into outright laughter at the expression on her face. "That's certainly not the way to do it. You have to look distressed, not disgusted." he snickers, a broad grin on his face. "Well, I'll not hold my breath waiting for you to ask, if that makes you feel any better at all." The grin is wiped off his face in favor of a much more somber expression, though amusement is still betrayed by the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "I've missed you too. More than you can imagine." he breathes, half-rising from his chair and lowering her head to his with a hand around the back of her neck. "Mmm."
"Oh," Aida says, as if this were some sort of puzzling thing that she had to do her best to try and understand. "Well, I'll practice my distressed look, maybe," she informs him loftily, and then he's going all serious and so she is following suit. There's a pleased little smile that flickers across her lips before they press to his, and then she's just focusing on kissing him, leaning down and sliding her arms around him once again. It is most certainly a kiss that is anything but appropriate for the office, but hey.
Br'ce rises from his chair, leaning one arm on the desk for stability. Things are rapidly heading a direction that are /entirely/ inappropriate for the office, though Br'ce, for once, seems rather heedless of it. Hey, the door's closed, at least. There's a great deal of repressed hunger in his kisses; Aida has definitely been /very/ missed over the past week or so.
Oh. This was certainly not something that Aida expected, precisely, though she's certainly not throwing up any protests. There's a little startled squeak that escapes as he rises, but then she's shifting to lean back against the desk and pulling him close in against her, all encouragement for a good few long moments. Except that this is the office, and closed or not, there is the potential for it to open and for someone to walk in that she would be mortified to have do so. This does manage to occur to her, and for all the hunger that is there to match his, she does her best to break the kiss off, pushing him back just enough to let her breathe.
"Mm. Mmph." A few muffled noises of protest from Br'ce as he tries to catch Aida's lips once more as she pulls away. She is leaning back against the desk, with Br'ce bent over her, one hand bracing himself against the desk, both rather enthusiastically engaged in kissing. It's been a rough week for Br'ce, and he's looking to make up for their one-week seperation as soon as possible. He breaks off as well, though reluctantly, touching his forehead to hers. "I really have missed you. A lot." he murmurs quietly, catching his own breath, using his free hand to gently brush a few strands of hair away from her face. For once, rather heedless of the setting. At least it's relatively private, with the door closed.
Breathing. Breathing is good. Aida closes her eyes and leans back against the desk, catching her breath and continuing to cling to Br'ce with one arm even as the other slides so she can rest her hand against his shoulder and ensure at least some mild bit of distance there, if needed. Once she's actually caught her breath, she lets out a quiet little laugh, drawing her head back enough to let her lift her lashes and look up at him. "So I can tell," she says quietly. "I've missed you too. I really have. I'm sorry I got so angry with you."
Who: Sefton, Br'ce, Aida
Where: Caucus Office
When: Continuation
What: And then Sefton walked in. Heh. Heh heh. Things exploded.
The thing about private places is that when they belong to other people, they're only private so long as their owners don't happen along. The door swings open, and Sefton follows through, having shoved it aside with his shoulder -- he's got his hands in his pockets, curls falling into his eyes, and a moment after he enters, he's got a broad grin stretching from ear to ear. He pauses, head tilted to one side, awaiting the inevitable scramble.
"I'm sorry, too. So very sorry." Br'ce still isn't quite sure what he did to be sorry about--what's wrong with just a friendly request not to stay out too late?--but he's smart enough not to press the issue at this point. "Let's just promise that we won't--URK." There's a moment of frozen inactivity as the door starts to open, the sort of blind panic of a deer in headlights. He's not breathing, either. Just a sort of rising gibbering panic in his brain, as he hastily tries to consider his options. 'Well, I'm glad we got that out of your eye...' No. Um. 'we tripped and fell, are you all right?' 'And end scene!' ...Meanwhile, he stays frozen, squeezing his eyes shut. Not too good at thinking on his feet, Br'ce.
All attentive to Br'ce as she is, she still can't quite miss the sound of the door opening up. Oh. Aida goes entirely still for a moment, then turns her head to blink over towards the door -- and Sefton. Blink. Blink. Blink. The hand already on Br'ce's shoulder shoves, it does, pushing him back away from her as she straightens up and clears her throat. "Headmaster, sir," she says. "Um. There is no explanation for this, but I /was/ on my way to get my lunch and relax for a few minutes when I caught him." A bright smile is offered over, though the terror is certainly lurking in her eyes behind it. It's all bravado. There is so much wishing the floor would open up and swallow her right at this moment, oh yes there is.
Oh, watch that smile -- Sefton does not deign to smirk, but rather releases the pair from any telling off with a wave of one hand. "I should say you did catch him, Aida," he drawls, amusement running rich through his tone. "I hope it was relaxing." He mobilises once more, circling around to the far side of the desk to reach for the stack that usually contains his incoming mail. "Good afternoon, Br'ce." No, no hasty exit coming just yet. "I have a new book for you. I trust you enjoyed the last?"
Br'ce stumbles away from Aida, fetching up by nearly tripping backwards over a chair. He /does/ manage to open his eyes, and barely suppresses the urge to scream when he sees the intruder. Of /all/ the people! Eyes squeeze shut and then are forced open again, looking straight ahead at the wall with impeccable posture. This is /just/ like preparatory school, being caught by the headmaster when--okay, so nothing even remotely like this ever happened to the awkward adolescent Bryce, but it figured quite prominently in his nightmares despite the lack of any females to be in such a situation with. Blood alternately suffuses and drains from his face, as he can't make up his mind whether to die from mortification or faint from panic. /And/ he's not breathing. At all. "Headmaster." is all he manages to croak hoarsely, starting to sway on his feet. Still not breathing, eyes following the Sefton around the room.
Mouth opens. Mouth closes. No response actually comes. Aida clears her throat again and glances down towards her skirt, giving it a little tug to make sure it's falling just so. It's only after that's been attended to that she lifts her gaze again -- this time back to Br'ce. She reaches out and gives him another little push, this time more directly towards the chair. "Sit down," she tells him. "And /breathe/." There's a beat's pause, and then she's turning her eyes over on Sefton again and offering her most angelic smile. "Yes, sir. It was." And she's sliding away from Br'ce and heading over to start a cup of tea for Sefton. Because it is something to do and it involves her not having to look at either of them. Now, the blush is starting to creep into her cheeks. Even if she won't admit that it's there.
"Yes, Br'ce," Sefton murmurs, prompting -- he's not entirely unkind, however, and he obliges the new wingleader by continuing without requiring a response. "My congratulations are due." A beat, just long enough for his gaze to slide sidelong to Aida as she turns away, and then he continues. "I am told you have recently received a vote of confidence from your weyrleader." That small speech is all he offers the man by way of recovery time, for then he's pressing on with a question. "How have you been finding your new assignment? Aida, Br'ce might like some tea as well. I seem to recall seeing it in his hand when we were boys."
Br'ce falls into the chair, which is probably a good thing, as he's on the verge of passing out. The impact does as much as Aida's words to remind him that air is a good thing, and he does manage a very shaky and raspy breath, seeing spots before his eyes. There's a great deal of extra tension in his posture, making him sit ramrod straight on the edge of the chair. "Thank you, sir. A vote of confidence that I'm doing my best to show isn't misplaced." He manages a hoarse reply, face rigidly neutral. Though the slightly panicked rolling around of his eyes indicates his disturbed emotional state. Unfortunately for him, there's no way he can keep the blush out of his face, his neck, or especially his ears.
Giving an agreeable sort of nod when Sefton mentions that Br'ce would also like tea, Aida adds a second mug to the first that she's fixing. There's a quick glance over her shoulder towards the brownrider, and it's followed by something of a wince; Sefton is shot a look a moment later, though she can't really help but punctuate said look with a grin. Since Br'ce isn't passing out. It's not long before she's looking back to what she's doing. La la la, making tea. It doesn't take long for that color to fade back away out of her cheeks, composure settling in nicely. At least for now.
"I am sure it is far from misplaced," Sefton observes mildly, leafing through his mail slowly, brows coming together in a faint frown as he fails to locate whatever it is that he seeks. "Aida, there is nothing sealed with a K here? What is he doing?" The letters are abandoned, and the headmaster sinks back into his chair, stretching long legs out underneath the desk. "Now, to more important matters. I am responsible for Aida, you must understand. She is under my employ -- she is not a member of the Caucus staff."
It's probably good for the man's peace of mind that he doesn't see Aida's grin. Or else he might just implode in offended dignity. Laughing at the man when he's /this/ embarrassed is likely to be accounted near a mortal sin. As Sefton doesn't appear to be pressing the issue or laughing, Br'ce does manage to start breathing in something resembling a normal pattern, even scooting a little further back into the chair to lean against the chair back a little. And then Sefton's next words have him taking a white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair. They'd better be sturdy, or else he might just end up breaking them off. "I understand..." is said slowly. Br'ce mislikes the direction that Sefton seems to be taking, casting a quick glance over towards Aida to gauge her reaction.
Turning again from what she's doing so that she can look over at Sefton again, Aida's lips curve down into a slight frown as she shakes her head. "No," she says. "If you'd like, I can go see if something just hasn't been brought up yet?" As much as it might be a hopeful question that could potentially let her escape, there's none of such in her tone. A little concern, yes. Of course, the shift to the more important matters have her blinking twice, glancing to Br'ce, and then looking back to the mugs. Which are filled carefully, and then she's turning to bring them over, first setting Sefton's within his reach, then circling around to offer one out towards Br'ce. When he looks to her, she offers a reassuring smile. If she's got an objection to the Headmaster's words, there's no sign of it.
"Leave it, leave it. Kel will have his hand-delivered," Sefton murmurs, dismissing the offer with a flick of one hand. Kelar had better have his letters hand-delivered, given the nature of the musings they usually contain. Sefton is silent as he reaches out to claim his mug, allowing Br'ce time to stew -- or less likely, recover -- as he curls his fingers through the handle and draws the mug across the desk towards him. This now being possible, in the wake of Aida's efforts to clear that space. "That is something of a relief," Sefton drawls, almost courteous -- surely a bad sign. "It does save one part of a tedious discussion. On to the next. What are your intentions, Br'ce? Aida has no family here. I consider that I stand in that role."
Br'ce unclenches from the chair arms with slight difficulty, accepting the mug of tea gratefully. And careful not to spill any on his hands, this time, despite the slight trembling. Instead, he places the tea firmly in his lap, clutching it tightly. "My...intentions?" There's open-eyed staring at Sefton, indicative of complete flabberghasted incomprehension. A long moment of silence results, as it slowly percolates into his consciousness. And then slight outrage. Which is a hell of an improvement over mortification. "I don't believe that I am obligated to speak to you of anything of the sort, Headmaster. My private affairs are just that--private. As are Aida's." he says stiffly, offended dignity present in every line of his body.
If it were anyone else, Aida would be leaping down their throat right about now with the notation that she can take care of herself and rar rar rar, independent little thing that she is. There have already been people practically bitten over similar potential discussions already. However, being that it is Sefton speaking these words, Aida doesn't even glare or blink or frown. The young woman merely slips away from Br'ce once he has his tea and heads for her own desk, moving to settle into her chair behind it and tugging on a piece of hide and reaching for her pen. All grace, all calm. It isn't until Br'ce actually responds to the man that her eyes lift again, focusing over on the brownrider. One eyebrow lifts. Her lips curve down into a frown. Yes, that is a distinctly displeased expression. She starts to speak up, but snaps her mouth back closed, instead glancing towards Sefton pointedly, obviously deferring to him and making a point out of doing so clearly.
Sefton lifts his mug, wrapping both hands around it as he eases back into his chair, lifting it so that he can bow his head to allow the steam to wash over his face. He takes his time over this ritual, eventually bringing it up so that he can take a slow sip. And then he speaks. "If you do not wish to speak to me of it, Br'ce, that is entirely your decision," he agrees, as amiable as can be. "You will forgive me, however, for making certain assumptions, based on your refusal to speak to me of any sort of commitment." Has he noted Aida's reaction? A sidelong glance indicates that perhaps he has, one side of his mouth tugged upward in a brief smile.
Br'ce looks towards Aida, expecting her to jump in along with him. And when nothing of the sort happens, there's a distinctly dyspeptic expression on his face. The sort that occurs when one throws a bomb, and instead of BOOM, all you get is fzzt. Brows furrow at Aida in something that almost resembles irritation. Hey, you're supposed to be backing me up here! Attention turns back to Sefton, with a mulish set to his lips. "Yes, it is entirely /our/ decision." he corrects, with a reproving glance towards Aida. "And I will have none of your sophistry or sly implications, either. You are free to make any assumptions you wish to make." is says coldly, in his best offended aristocratic manner. "The fact that these assumptions may or may not be erroneous is none of my concern. It is, as you say, entirely your decision." Tea is left untouched in his lap, erect demeanor giving away nothing but an icy haughteur.
Her eyes swinging back to Br'ce once Sefton has responded, Aida's expression smoothes out to that perfect neutrality that she manages at times. Br'ce's response, his reactions -- these things cause a tightening of her shoulders and a stiffening of her own posture. Her initial words are caught before they escape, but this time she does not close her mouth entirely. "Actually," she speaks up, voice quiet and calm. "Sefton is the closest thing to family that I have here, Br'ce. Would you deny my father the answers to the questions that he has asked of you? If I took issue with him speaking on my behalf, do you not think that I would have objected?" She slides to her feet carefully with that spoken, giving Br'ce a raised eyebrow look before she turns and makes her way over to the table with the mugs and things, going about pouring herself a glass of juice as if this were any other meeting she were taking part in. "I take offense at you speaking to him that way, Br'ce."
"Women," Sefton drawls, presumably for Br'ce's benefit, "are often distresed when a young man who has been courting them declines to make a public declaration." Another slow sip of his tea, and he tilts his head back to allow the liquid to slide down his throat, savouring it as he so often does his alcoholic refreshments. "I would rather give you another book and send you on your way, Br'ce. I am trying very hard to be fair." He has infused his drawl with a faintly put-upon note, one hand coming away from the mug to rake his hair back from his face. "As you say, I must make assumptions if you will not assist me."
Br'ce rears his head back, looking almost as if Aida just physically slapped him. "The closest thing to family you have /here/, but he's not your father. It's not as if your father is several months' journey away, either. You are his assistant, not his daughter." There's a betrayed sort of expression on his face, quickly shuttered in favor of his aristocratic mask once more. "/I/ object and take offense. He is /not/ your father. This is not the proper way of doing things." he splutters, tea mug trembling in his lap. "This is hardly a forum for discussion of this nature, nor do you have any right to speak to me and imply such things. Our long past together still does not afford you liberties of this nature." His eyes narrow at Sefton, angrily, incensed by the calm matter of factness that the headmaster projects. "Fairness does not enter into this equation. Propriety does. You of all people should realize that. Fairness certainly does not extend to implying that--that--" Words are cut off, his mouth compressing into a thin line. All the embarrassment seems to have drained out of him, replaced by the flush of suppressed anger.
There's the temper. It rises in a flash in response to the show of it from Br'ce, and Aida at least manages to set her juice down instead of throwing it before she whirls to face the man. Oh, how those eyes flash with anger, and there it is -- the foot stomp. One foot lifts, and it's stamped down on the floor as her hands curl into fists at her sides. Mouth opens, and she starts to squawk -- and cuts the words off again, before they escape. She sets her jaw and grits her teeth, and then just brings her arms up to cross them over her chest and /glares/. She's trembling with it, but she is at least biting her tongue. It's probably bleeding at this point. There is another foot stomp thrown in for good measure, at least. Stamp! Mad!
Sefton and Aida, it turns out, make a matching set -- in their silence, at least. Rather than continue the debate, Sefton simply lifts his mug slowly, taking another sip. That done, he stretches his legs out yet further still in front of him, tilting his head forward so that his curls fall back into his eyes -- from behind that habitual shield he observes Aida for a moment, then turns his dark eyes on Br'ce. That tilt of his head is transformed into a nod of sorts, and his drawl is relaxed, even, as he continues. "So be it, then."
Br'ce glares back at Aida with equal fervor, unintimidated by the stomping for once. He doesn't like being surprised, and this conversation has really quite blindsided him, and he's holding Aida as much to blame as Sefton. He stares alternately at first one, then the other, growing almost brick-red with rage. A moment more of silence, before he breaks. "So be it, then!" is practically snarls as he jumps to his feet, heedless of the tea that slops over the edge of the mug onto him (burning, again) or the fact that the handle cracks off when he slams it down on a nearby table. He pauses in the doorway, looking back and searching for some appropriately scathing parting remark. Coming up with none, he settles for an inarticulate growl and slamming the door as he exits. Loudly.
Continuing to hold her tongue, Aida seems to get her temper at least marginally under control; both feet stay on the ground, at least. The young woman's chin lifts in response to his snarled words, and she says not a word to speak up and try to stop him from going. There is a little wince given in reaction to the door slamming, and then...well, she just blinks at it, frowning. Blink. Blink. Frown. Blink. "Well." It's spoken quietly and without anger, though her tone is certainly flat.
"Well," Sefton agrees, sounding far less flat, and certainly unconcerned. "I should say you have him well and truly hooked, Aida. Congratulations." Mild amusement runs through that drawl as he claims his mug once more, now forsaking his thoughtful sips in favour of a long gulp.
"All we ever do is fight," Aida complains quietly, throwing her hands up and losing the tension that was holding her shoulders so tight. She turns around and paces back to where her glass has been set down, reclaiming it and bringing it up for a careful drink. "I hadn't seen him for a week." A glance over. "It's not funny." Her nose is wrinkled at him.
Sefton watches her cross the room over the rim of his mug, hair still hanging down into his eyes. Another slow gulp, and then he speaks. "It is a little funny, Aida," he murmurs, not bothering to dim his amusement. "Although I am sorry to see you upset. I should have expected something of that sort from Br'ce. We grew up together, has he told you that?"
Rolling her eyes when he notes that it is funny, Aida shakes her head at him and takes another drink of juice. A deep breath is taken, held, and then released. "No," she replies, quietly. "He hasn't. Anyway -- there's a Journeyman Harper that wants to see you, apparently on the Masterharper's business, but he was all but impossible to get to make an appointment. He did -- under duress -- but I don't expect him to hold to it. Just so you know." See Aida. See Aida dive back behind business. She, and her glass of juice, head back for her desk. "Also, I had a nice talk with Miniyal earlier. I don't think that I'm going to have any problems working with her."
"If the Journeyman Harper wandering the weyr at large, or does he come and go?" Sefton asks, almost whimsical. "I shall keep my eyes peeled." Another gulp, and his tea is disposed of, the mug pushed away across the desk. "If you can find a way to work well with Miniyal, I shall be very pleased indeed." Their former conversation, however, is not concluded -- after all, only Br'ce's half has been conducted so far. "Now, Aida, it is your turn. You must tell me, are you serious about your young man?"
Settling herself down into her chair, Aida sets her juice down just so, and then pauses. Her desk is blinked down at, and then she's lifting her chin and shifting on her chair, turning back to look at Sefton again. "He is staying here, I believe," she points out. "The Harper, I mean." That's all she says for a good long few moments, the time after taken for eying the headmaster with bemusement. Eventually, she shrugs one shoulder lightly. "I don't know," she replies. "I really...don't know. There's a lot of complications, and a lot of fighting. A lot that we don't talk about, can't talk about, because it makes him or me or both of us a little ill." Pause. "This is a bad moment for that question, though, because I'm very angry with him for how he was speaking to you, and...that whole mess. I really wish that /one/ person could respect my wishes in all of this."
Sefton knows a cue when he hears it, and he does not fail to reply to this one; "Aida, I have enormous respect for your wishes, and I very much hope I have given you no reason to think otherwise." His drawl proves its versatility now, lowering to impart a certain gravity upon this pronouncement. "Br'ce was doing what he thought was right. He has changed very little since he was a boy. You should not judge him on his stiffness. It reflects something in him that is very admirable, if occasionally a little foolish."
Rolling her eyes, Aida shakes her head and makes a face at him. "Not /you/," she points out, her tone a little petulant. "You're the only one, these days. Everybody else..." She trails off, shaking her head and closing her eyes, dropping her head down against the back of her chair. "It's always about what he thinks is right," she points out quietly. "How he expects it to go. What he should say, what he should do. It's like having a relationship with an etiquette book, almost."
Sefton laughs, making no effort at all to conceal his amusement. "An etiquette book?" He's delighted with the comparison, raking his curls back from his face as he slumps in his chair, propping his chin up on one hand. A lazy king, sprawled on his throne. "All pointy edges and paper cuts then, I should think. Tell me, Aida, why is it that you let him pursue you, then? Set your irritation aside for a moment and tell me. You must see some merit in him."
"You're laughing at me again," Aida reminds him absently, as if he weren't aware of this fact. Her cheek stays against the back of her chair though, her eyes remaining closed. "And you're just trying to talk me out of being mad at him." These words hold a hint of an accusation, though it's gone away again when she continues. "He's intelligent, he's sweet, he's handsome, he's interesting, and...I don't know. I *like* him. I really do. It's not like he's awful, or anything. I'm not saying he /doesn't/ have merit. I'm just wondering if it's worth all of this. Even when we're not fighting, the only time we see each other is when we're exhausted, and I'm an awful person to be involved with, anyway. He could do a lot better than somebody who's only vaguely there and is eventually going to be gone on a different path anyway."
Sefton obediently converts to silent laughter, although the amusement still runs through his drawl when he speaks. "Either he is worth the effort, Aida, or he is not. Whatever lies in your future, it is well over the horizon just yet. I hope you will stay with me far longer than your promised turn, and I have several turns to spend here just yet." This, however, is not the point. Propping up his chin on his knuckles, he continues. "My point stands. Either he is worth the effort, or he is not. If he is, then you must make it. We men can be very simple creatures."
Lashes lifting, Aida sits up enough to turn and set her chin on the back of the chair this time, peering over at him. "Well, I hope I'm going to be staying with you for longer than the already agreed to turn," she points out, tone touching with annoyance. "This is a lot of time and effort to put in for both of us if it's only temporary." She rolls her eyes again, then uncurls and slides back up to her feet, grabbing her juice. It's gulped from, her free arm wrapping around her midsection as she starts to pace. "I know that your point stands, and that you're right. I just don't *know*. It's all painfully confusing."
"Mmmmm." Sefton's hum of reply is faintly reproving, the amusement draining away momentarily. "I will hold you for no longer than you have contracted for. I will have you for as long as you will stay with me, Aida." His dark eyes follow her as she rises, resting on her as she paces -- he allows her a couple of turns before he replies. "He is certainly sure of his feelings. I have watched him from a boy. He is stiff-necked enough at times, but his bluster was not entirely because he felt my question was out of line." He pauses, then, as though his next thought has only just occurred to him. "You must forgive me, if it was."
Pace, pace, pace. Aida finds herself a little winding course, circling back and forth between her desk and one of the bookshelves. She glances over at him at his initial reply, frowning for a moment and then shaking her head. "I've already decided," she points out, the annoyance gone. That's all she has to say on that topic, following the words with another gulp of juice and more pacing. His last statement draws her up short, and she gives him a 'What?' sort of look. "It wasn't. Or even if it was, *I* felt it was reasonable. It was sort of...I mean, uh." Whatever she started to try and say is abandoned in favor of staring over at him with a startled sort of look. That holds for two heartbeats before she smirks, turning away and going back to pacing as she notes with heavy sarcasm, "It was rather reassuring." Go go, self mocking.
Sefton continues to watch her pacing, allowing the silence to draw out as he considers her for a moment. Finally, he exhales heavily -- it's almost a sigh, and pushes up from where his chin is propped on his fist. "You had best go and find him, Aida, before his wounded pride hardens on you. If you would have preferred him to claim you before a witness, then I imagine he would have preferred you to stand behind him while he defended what he imagined to be his honour." Reaching forward, the headmaster claims his stack of mail. "I can make do without you this afternoon."
Again, Aida's hauled up short; this time, there's a flicker of something wounded there as she looks his way. It's gone again in a blink, and she's straightening herself out and giving a dip of her head a moment later. "Alright," she says quietly. "I'll see you in the morning, then." She moves again; this time detouring to set her glass down beside the pitcher on her way for the door, steps unusually swift.
Sefton doesn't rise as she departs -- that is reserved for those of his students or visitors whose rank demands such a courtesy -- but he does watch until she's out of sight. Then he exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks as he empties his lungs of air, eyes closing slowly. For a moment, he looks more tired than anything else -- and then his lips quirk to a wry smile. With a shake of his head, he hauls himself upright in his chair, and next thing he's reaching for his first letter.
Where: Upper Caverns -> Caucus Office
When: Afternoon day 18, month 4, turn 2.
What: Reunited! Aww, they're so cute. It looks like they're going to make up so well!
It's a slightly harried-looking wingleader who is walking down the hall, hair looking slightly rumpled and askew. He's trying to read a hide, sip tea, and walk at the same time, resulting in a sort of erratic weave that has the others in the hall giving him a wide berth. There are slight dark circles under his eyes, and he looks very tired. Apparently, the business of running a wing is keeping him up late. Or maybe something else. A slight dip in the floor of the hallway causes Br'ce to stumble, spilling hot tea onto his hand. "Agh." An exclamation and a bitten off curse, as he grits his teeth, unable to put the tea mug down anywhere to wipe his hand off.
Click. That would be the door to the caucus's office being tugged closed by Aida's hand, checked once before it's let go and she turns. In sharp contrast, the young woman is well composed and wearing a faint smile, the hint of distraction to her eyes clearly of the pleasant sort. At least she's not humming, but it's very possible that that might start sometime soon. So, she turns, and she starts to slip down the hallway -- and then there's Br'ce. She stops promptly, snapping back to reality and letting her full focus fall on him.
Another muffled grunt--no oaths for Br'ce--and he's looking around for a place to put down the tea mug. There's a distinct lack of convenient coffee tables in the hallways, however. Puddle on the floor is eyed for a moment, and toed for a second. Okay, a drudge can take care of that. A mental sigh, and he looks around--"Aida! Aida." The first one is said with a mix of surprise and hope, the second is more restrained, a somewhat cautiously wary expression on the man's face.
The puddle, the cup of tea, and then Br'ce again -- all of it is eyed, her expression one of those painfully difficult to read sorts of deals that is more neutrality than it is anything else. Aida brings a hand up to ruffle it through the curls at the back of her head, then exhales a soft sigh and steps forward, reaching to take the cup from him. "Br'ce," she greets, her tone touched with dry amusement. "You look tired." It should be noted that there is a distinct addition to the air around Aida; she's wearing a hint of some sort of lavender perfume.
Tea slowly slides down Br'ce's hand and wrist into his sleeve, and drips onto the floor unheeded, an uncertain look on his face at the neutral /lack/. A flicker of relief at the amusement in her tone shows in his eyes. "Wing duties. We may not be flying Thread, but we've still got lots of paperwork and records to catch up on. And I've been familiarizing myself better with the backgrounds of my riders." The hide is waved vaguely. He stops there, uncertain of what else to say. "Er. You look ...pretty." is essayed cautiously.
"You're dripping tea," Aida points out, once she's safely got the cup in hand. It's brought up so she can take a careful drink, and then she's turning around and heading back for the door to the office. "C'mon," she directs lightly. "And thank you. I do try." Beat. "You're looking exhausted due to paperwork, records, and familiarizing yourself with the backgrounds of your riders? You really ought to get more rest, you know."
Br'ce blinks and looks at his hand, turning a slightly lobster-looking color already. Not a burn, precisely, just...scalded. Hand is held at the end of his arm, away from his body, as he pats himself down with the other hand, producing a handkerchief from somewhere to wipe his hand off with. An expression of vague distaste is on his face as he contemplates his wet sleeve, a few futile dabs with the cloth proving not enough to render it dry. "Well, you know, there's a lot of start-up effort in taking over a wing. I put in the time now, and I can rest later once things start to run a little more smoothly. Besides, I haven't been feeling sleepy at night." Making sure he's tired enough to collapse and fall asleep straightaway at night, actually. "Besides, isn't this a bit of a case of the pot calling the kettle black?" A touch of humor as he follows Aida towards the office.
"*I* do not appear like the slightest breeze is going to tip me over and make me pass out due to exhaustion," Aida points out lightly, a thread of a tease in her tone as she winds her way to the office door. It's tugged back open again, and she turns to gesture him on inside, offering up a soft smile. "So no, I don't think that this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black. I know there's a lot of effort involved, but you're not going to be doing anyone any good if you're not getting enough rest. I missed you at the party, the other night."
"It's not that bad. It would take a fairly stiff breeze, at least." Br'ce manages a more convincing smile, feeling already more cheered by Aida's demeanor. There's some color coming back into his cheeks, and he seems more energized already. "I'm doing just fine, really. It's not as bad as you might think. Things are starting to come together." He steps into the office, pausing on the other side to wait for Aida. "Party? Oh, the one for the records-keeper? I wanted to go, she's a very nice lady. Excellent at her job. I was digging through record transcripts, though, and I lost track of time. Planning out different formations and writing out copies for everyone." In triplicate. Things are much harder without carbon copies. "I take it Sefton's not been working you quite as roughly lately?"
"The one for Miniyal's parents, yes," Aida agrees, following him right on into the office and shooing him further ahead of her, tugging the door closed with her free hand. She slides around to head for her desk promptly, setting the tea down on the edge of it and moving over to snag a towel. "I've invited her to come and have tea or wine with us sometime soon; if you could stop in and see her and tell her you're looking forward to it and that you'll be pulling the maps out for her to look at and see if there's any she wants to borrow, I'd appreciate it. Let me see your hand." As she talks, she slips back over to him, punctuating it with her own hand held out towards him, palm up. "And the Headmaster has never been working me roughly." Beat. "And I didn't get to dance much at the party. I wish you had been there." Not 'didn't get to dance at all', of course.
Br'ce says, "Ah, right. T'ral was explaining it to me, but I wasn't really listening." Br'ce admits, sliding into one of the chairs in front of the desk and setting the hide to one side. Us? Us? Did he hear that right? "That would be wonderful!" he burbles enthusiastically, perhaps a bit more than one really should for Miniyal. "Of course, I've got some records to deliver to her anyway. I'd love to invite her by." Obediently, hand is given over to Aida, habits of obedience somewhat ingrained by now. "It's fine, really, the tea wasn't that hot." He coughs, looking slightly embarrassed. "Well. You know that I don't like dancing all that much." Good dancer, but not that enthusiastic about it. "Though I'm really wishing that I had been there, now. Dancing is still much better than scribing." But only when there's Aida involved."
Inspecting his hand carefully, Aida eventually exhales a sigh and shakes her head, giving him a chiding sort of look. "When walking with hot tea, you watch where you are going," she tells him, letting go of his hand and plopping down to sit on his knee. "I mean it." With that said, she turns to pick up that evil cup again, turning back to him and bringing it up for another careful sip. "I like dancing," she points out. "You certainly don't have to dance with me, but I'd feel more comfortable dancing with other people if you were /there/. Roa kept giving me disapproving looks, and it sort of took some of the fun out of it."
"I do." Br'ce says defensively. "I didn't run into any walls or people, did I? I don't normally spill." A smile at Aida. "I don't mind dancing with you at all. And I don't mind your dancing with other people, either. So long as I get the first and the last ones." And for the rest, he'll do his normal holding-up-the-wall posture in some corner somewhere with his wine. "Don't listen to Roa, dear. Dance with whomever you like. I'm not about to get in the way of your enjoying things like that." Hand is retrieved and rubbed absently. "Unless they get a little fresh about it. Then I do mind. No one did, did they?" Frown.
Another sip is taken from his cup of tea before she sets it back down, and leans in to wrap her arms up around his shoulders. Aida leans in to brush a kiss against his jaw, then straightens back up to offer a slight smile. "I didn't think that you'd mind," she says. "And no, nobody got fresh with me. Natain..." There's a glance sent towards her desk, and then her eyes swing back again and she offers another reassuring smile. "He was a perfect gentleman. Never fear. I still wish you'd been there."
Br'ce smiles, looking quite contented and happy, despite the tiredness. He attempts to catch one of her hands as she stands back up, to hold on to it with both of his own. "Natain...?" A slightly confused look towards the desk and back to her. "Well. As long as all the proprieties are observed..." is said uncertainly. "Just remember that you can tell me anything. Really. And I'll do what I can to help. Even if it is, um, sit around and do nothing." He offers up a lopsided smile. "I'll be there at the next party. I promise. First ones there, last to leave, if that sounds good to you. I'll bring a book. And possibly a stout stick, to keep them from rushing you all at once." And a smug expression. Yes, this one's /mine/. Ha!
Aida gives a squeeze to his fingers, shifting to lean back up against the desk and offering him a sweet smile. "I think your head might explode if I Told you everything," she points out lightly, a hint of a tease winding through her tone. "All is well, though. You've nothing to be concerned about. Natain is a friend of mine; a trader. He's all sorts of perfumes and things to sell. Like the lavender I'm wearing; isn't it pretty?" There's just enough of a pause there left to let it sink in, and then she's continuing on, "It does sound good to me, though I don't like staying /that/ late. But...if you'll go with me, I'll be content. And I don't get /rushed/."
Br'ce furrows his brows slightly suspiciously. Head exploding? "Well, as long as none of them get the wrong idea, I won't have to break any of them in half." Or lecture sternly, as the case may be. Though any party behavior will probably be limited to glowering quellingly. "Ah. Well, those are certainly nice." Nostrils flare slightly as he sniffs at the air, leaning in towards Aida to take a deep breath. "Mmm. I certainly could get used to this sort of thing. It does smell very nice. Goes well with the tea." Absently, one thumb strokes the back of her hand. "I promise, I won't rush you. And we'll only stay as long as you like." He might butt in if she looks like she's having too much fun with any one guy, but no rushing. Really. He hesitates for a minute. "Err. Just so I know a little more clearly, what exactly would fall under the category of, ah, 'rushing'?" A sincerely earnest note to his voice.
Pause. Blink. Blink. Aida's head tips to the side a bit, one of her eyebrows lifting up. "Break somebody in half?" She asks, tone all idle curiosity. Still, it may not mean imminent danger this time, because her free hand lifts and reaches out to give a light brush to his cheek with her fingertips, the caress a light one. "In the context of what we were talking about, I think 'rushing' would mean people all stampeding to try and get my attention, which they certainly don't do, and...wouldn't apply for you, anyway." A little shake of her head.
"Metaphorically speaking, of course." Br'ce assures her. "I'm not even sure it's possible to break people in half. It sounds terribly messy. Besides, I'd get T'ral to do it for me. With alacrity." he cheerfully volunteers his friend's services. "This wingleader business is starting to teach me the importance of delegating unpleasant work properly. Something that Sefton also seems to have figured out as well." A grin and a squeeze of Aida's hand indicates the jest in his words. "I'll bring a dance card for you, and make them take turns in an orderly fashion."
"There's no need for anybody to break anyone in half," Aida points out, shaking her head at him and wrinkling up her nose. His nose is tapped with one of her fingers, lightly. "I really can take care of myself." Another squeeze is given to his fingers, and her expression lightens again, her own impish smile flashed. "The Headmaster does not delegate the simply unpleasant work to me. I *like* my job, and do not find it unpleasant in the slightest. Just so you know." Beat. "A dance card is probably a little bit overboard. Thankfully. I'm not *that* popular."
Br'ce says, "That is also true." Br'ce grins. "But sometimes we men need to feel appropriately manly and posture. It's part of the delicate process of preserving our egos. I would ask that you keep this in mind, and try to play the damsel in distress every once in a while. Just to make me feel better." Impulsively, he lifts her hand to plant a kiss on the back of her knuckles. "Well, the other men are idiots. Thankfully. Or else I'd have a much harder time of it." Head is tilted fondly up at her. "I know you do. And I enjoy my job a great deal as well, despite the long hours and tedious work. Which makes us very lucky people, you know. We get the complicatedly unpleasant work, and like it. There's probably some defect in our character.""
Eeeeeew. Aida's nose wrinkles up again, and she gives him an entirely skeptical look that does, thankfully, soften when he kisses the back of her knuckles. She chuckles lightly and shakes her head, reaching out to pat his cheek lightly again. "I don't know if I'm capable of playing the damsel in distress, Br'ce," she points out gently, her voice dropping a bit and turning towards serious and solemn. "It's not in my nature. I wouldn't know how to start. I..." She frowns, giving a little shake of her head and tugging both of her hands back, lifting them to shove her hair back away from her face. "There's definitely a defect in my character," she concludes in agreement, tone dry.
"It's quite simple, from what I hear. You sort of clutch your hands to your bosom and shriek a lot." Br'ce grins. "Possibly faint, but never for the important bits. And never where there's not anyone around to catch you. It's actually quite complicated, now that I think about it." he says absently, tapping the chair arm with one finger. "Just think of yourself as a delicate flower, and it may come a bit more naturally." Impulsively, he scoots the chair sideways a little and himself as well, so he can lean his head against Aida's leg. "That's all right, dear. I know it's not in your nature. That's one of the reasons why I love you so much, remember? But I just want you to remember that you don't /have/ to handle everything yourself." he adds, somewhat scoldingly.
As he explains the damsel in distress routine, Aida's expression goes all sorts of skeptical again. The 'delicate flower' bit has her making a wretched face, probably one similar to what she would look like were she to gag herself with something that tasted positively dreadful. Even so, she brings a hand up to pat at his cheek when he leans against her, and it's all laughed off with a quiet chuckle and a shake of her head. Leaning down, there's a kiss pressed to his forehead, and then she points out quietly, "I know I don't have to. But I do handle what I can. If I need help, I will ask for it." Which will likely end up being admitted to just /after/ the world comes to an end. "You know I've missed you. And you haven't even tried to kiss me yet; I think I'm disappointed."
Br'ce twists his head around to look at her, breaking into outright laughter at the expression on her face. "That's certainly not the way to do it. You have to look distressed, not disgusted." he snickers, a broad grin on his face. "Well, I'll not hold my breath waiting for you to ask, if that makes you feel any better at all." The grin is wiped off his face in favor of a much more somber expression, though amusement is still betrayed by the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "I've missed you too. More than you can imagine." he breathes, half-rising from his chair and lowering her head to his with a hand around the back of her neck. "Mmm."
"Oh," Aida says, as if this were some sort of puzzling thing that she had to do her best to try and understand. "Well, I'll practice my distressed look, maybe," she informs him loftily, and then he's going all serious and so she is following suit. There's a pleased little smile that flickers across her lips before they press to his, and then she's just focusing on kissing him, leaning down and sliding her arms around him once again. It is most certainly a kiss that is anything but appropriate for the office, but hey.
Br'ce rises from his chair, leaning one arm on the desk for stability. Things are rapidly heading a direction that are /entirely/ inappropriate for the office, though Br'ce, for once, seems rather heedless of it. Hey, the door's closed, at least. There's a great deal of repressed hunger in his kisses; Aida has definitely been /very/ missed over the past week or so.
Oh. This was certainly not something that Aida expected, precisely, though she's certainly not throwing up any protests. There's a little startled squeak that escapes as he rises, but then she's shifting to lean back against the desk and pulling him close in against her, all encouragement for a good few long moments. Except that this is the office, and closed or not, there is the potential for it to open and for someone to walk in that she would be mortified to have do so. This does manage to occur to her, and for all the hunger that is there to match his, she does her best to break the kiss off, pushing him back just enough to let her breathe.
"Mm. Mmph." A few muffled noises of protest from Br'ce as he tries to catch Aida's lips once more as she pulls away. She is leaning back against the desk, with Br'ce bent over her, one hand bracing himself against the desk, both rather enthusiastically engaged in kissing. It's been a rough week for Br'ce, and he's looking to make up for their one-week seperation as soon as possible. He breaks off as well, though reluctantly, touching his forehead to hers. "I really have missed you. A lot." he murmurs quietly, catching his own breath, using his free hand to gently brush a few strands of hair away from her face. For once, rather heedless of the setting. At least it's relatively private, with the door closed.
Breathing. Breathing is good. Aida closes her eyes and leans back against the desk, catching her breath and continuing to cling to Br'ce with one arm even as the other slides so she can rest her hand against his shoulder and ensure at least some mild bit of distance there, if needed. Once she's actually caught her breath, she lets out a quiet little laugh, drawing her head back enough to let her lift her lashes and look up at him. "So I can tell," she says quietly. "I've missed you too. I really have. I'm sorry I got so angry with you."
Who: Sefton, Br'ce, Aida
Where: Caucus Office
When: Continuation
What: And then Sefton walked in. Heh. Heh heh. Things exploded.
The thing about private places is that when they belong to other people, they're only private so long as their owners don't happen along. The door swings open, and Sefton follows through, having shoved it aside with his shoulder -- he's got his hands in his pockets, curls falling into his eyes, and a moment after he enters, he's got a broad grin stretching from ear to ear. He pauses, head tilted to one side, awaiting the inevitable scramble.
"I'm sorry, too. So very sorry." Br'ce still isn't quite sure what he did to be sorry about--what's wrong with just a friendly request not to stay out too late?--but he's smart enough not to press the issue at this point. "Let's just promise that we won't--URK." There's a moment of frozen inactivity as the door starts to open, the sort of blind panic of a deer in headlights. He's not breathing, either. Just a sort of rising gibbering panic in his brain, as he hastily tries to consider his options. 'Well, I'm glad we got that out of your eye...' No. Um. 'we tripped and fell, are you all right?' 'And end scene!' ...Meanwhile, he stays frozen, squeezing his eyes shut. Not too good at thinking on his feet, Br'ce.
All attentive to Br'ce as she is, she still can't quite miss the sound of the door opening up. Oh. Aida goes entirely still for a moment, then turns her head to blink over towards the door -- and Sefton. Blink. Blink. Blink. The hand already on Br'ce's shoulder shoves, it does, pushing him back away from her as she straightens up and clears her throat. "Headmaster, sir," she says. "Um. There is no explanation for this, but I /was/ on my way to get my lunch and relax for a few minutes when I caught him." A bright smile is offered over, though the terror is certainly lurking in her eyes behind it. It's all bravado. There is so much wishing the floor would open up and swallow her right at this moment, oh yes there is.
Oh, watch that smile -- Sefton does not deign to smirk, but rather releases the pair from any telling off with a wave of one hand. "I should say you did catch him, Aida," he drawls, amusement running rich through his tone. "I hope it was relaxing." He mobilises once more, circling around to the far side of the desk to reach for the stack that usually contains his incoming mail. "Good afternoon, Br'ce." No, no hasty exit coming just yet. "I have a new book for you. I trust you enjoyed the last?"
Br'ce stumbles away from Aida, fetching up by nearly tripping backwards over a chair. He /does/ manage to open his eyes, and barely suppresses the urge to scream when he sees the intruder. Of /all/ the people! Eyes squeeze shut and then are forced open again, looking straight ahead at the wall with impeccable posture. This is /just/ like preparatory school, being caught by the headmaster when--okay, so nothing even remotely like this ever happened to the awkward adolescent Bryce, but it figured quite prominently in his nightmares despite the lack of any females to be in such a situation with. Blood alternately suffuses and drains from his face, as he can't make up his mind whether to die from mortification or faint from panic. /And/ he's not breathing. At all. "Headmaster." is all he manages to croak hoarsely, starting to sway on his feet. Still not breathing, eyes following the Sefton around the room.
Mouth opens. Mouth closes. No response actually comes. Aida clears her throat again and glances down towards her skirt, giving it a little tug to make sure it's falling just so. It's only after that's been attended to that she lifts her gaze again -- this time back to Br'ce. She reaches out and gives him another little push, this time more directly towards the chair. "Sit down," she tells him. "And /breathe/." There's a beat's pause, and then she's turning her eyes over on Sefton again and offering her most angelic smile. "Yes, sir. It was." And she's sliding away from Br'ce and heading over to start a cup of tea for Sefton. Because it is something to do and it involves her not having to look at either of them. Now, the blush is starting to creep into her cheeks. Even if she won't admit that it's there.
"Yes, Br'ce," Sefton murmurs, prompting -- he's not entirely unkind, however, and he obliges the new wingleader by continuing without requiring a response. "My congratulations are due." A beat, just long enough for his gaze to slide sidelong to Aida as she turns away, and then he continues. "I am told you have recently received a vote of confidence from your weyrleader." That small speech is all he offers the man by way of recovery time, for then he's pressing on with a question. "How have you been finding your new assignment? Aida, Br'ce might like some tea as well. I seem to recall seeing it in his hand when we were boys."
Br'ce falls into the chair, which is probably a good thing, as he's on the verge of passing out. The impact does as much as Aida's words to remind him that air is a good thing, and he does manage a very shaky and raspy breath, seeing spots before his eyes. There's a great deal of extra tension in his posture, making him sit ramrod straight on the edge of the chair. "Thank you, sir. A vote of confidence that I'm doing my best to show isn't misplaced." He manages a hoarse reply, face rigidly neutral. Though the slightly panicked rolling around of his eyes indicates his disturbed emotional state. Unfortunately for him, there's no way he can keep the blush out of his face, his neck, or especially his ears.
Giving an agreeable sort of nod when Sefton mentions that Br'ce would also like tea, Aida adds a second mug to the first that she's fixing. There's a quick glance over her shoulder towards the brownrider, and it's followed by something of a wince; Sefton is shot a look a moment later, though she can't really help but punctuate said look with a grin. Since Br'ce isn't passing out. It's not long before she's looking back to what she's doing. La la la, making tea. It doesn't take long for that color to fade back away out of her cheeks, composure settling in nicely. At least for now.
"I am sure it is far from misplaced," Sefton observes mildly, leafing through his mail slowly, brows coming together in a faint frown as he fails to locate whatever it is that he seeks. "Aida, there is nothing sealed with a K here? What is he doing?" The letters are abandoned, and the headmaster sinks back into his chair, stretching long legs out underneath the desk. "Now, to more important matters. I am responsible for Aida, you must understand. She is under my employ -- she is not a member of the Caucus staff."
It's probably good for the man's peace of mind that he doesn't see Aida's grin. Or else he might just implode in offended dignity. Laughing at the man when he's /this/ embarrassed is likely to be accounted near a mortal sin. As Sefton doesn't appear to be pressing the issue or laughing, Br'ce does manage to start breathing in something resembling a normal pattern, even scooting a little further back into the chair to lean against the chair back a little. And then Sefton's next words have him taking a white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair. They'd better be sturdy, or else he might just end up breaking them off. "I understand..." is said slowly. Br'ce mislikes the direction that Sefton seems to be taking, casting a quick glance over towards Aida to gauge her reaction.
Turning again from what she's doing so that she can look over at Sefton again, Aida's lips curve down into a slight frown as she shakes her head. "No," she says. "If you'd like, I can go see if something just hasn't been brought up yet?" As much as it might be a hopeful question that could potentially let her escape, there's none of such in her tone. A little concern, yes. Of course, the shift to the more important matters have her blinking twice, glancing to Br'ce, and then looking back to the mugs. Which are filled carefully, and then she's turning to bring them over, first setting Sefton's within his reach, then circling around to offer one out towards Br'ce. When he looks to her, she offers a reassuring smile. If she's got an objection to the Headmaster's words, there's no sign of it.
"Leave it, leave it. Kel will have his hand-delivered," Sefton murmurs, dismissing the offer with a flick of one hand. Kelar had better have his letters hand-delivered, given the nature of the musings they usually contain. Sefton is silent as he reaches out to claim his mug, allowing Br'ce time to stew -- or less likely, recover -- as he curls his fingers through the handle and draws the mug across the desk towards him. This now being possible, in the wake of Aida's efforts to clear that space. "That is something of a relief," Sefton drawls, almost courteous -- surely a bad sign. "It does save one part of a tedious discussion. On to the next. What are your intentions, Br'ce? Aida has no family here. I consider that I stand in that role."
Br'ce unclenches from the chair arms with slight difficulty, accepting the mug of tea gratefully. And careful not to spill any on his hands, this time, despite the slight trembling. Instead, he places the tea firmly in his lap, clutching it tightly. "My...intentions?" There's open-eyed staring at Sefton, indicative of complete flabberghasted incomprehension. A long moment of silence results, as it slowly percolates into his consciousness. And then slight outrage. Which is a hell of an improvement over mortification. "I don't believe that I am obligated to speak to you of anything of the sort, Headmaster. My private affairs are just that--private. As are Aida's." he says stiffly, offended dignity present in every line of his body.
If it were anyone else, Aida would be leaping down their throat right about now with the notation that she can take care of herself and rar rar rar, independent little thing that she is. There have already been people practically bitten over similar potential discussions already. However, being that it is Sefton speaking these words, Aida doesn't even glare or blink or frown. The young woman merely slips away from Br'ce once he has his tea and heads for her own desk, moving to settle into her chair behind it and tugging on a piece of hide and reaching for her pen. All grace, all calm. It isn't until Br'ce actually responds to the man that her eyes lift again, focusing over on the brownrider. One eyebrow lifts. Her lips curve down into a frown. Yes, that is a distinctly displeased expression. She starts to speak up, but snaps her mouth back closed, instead glancing towards Sefton pointedly, obviously deferring to him and making a point out of doing so clearly.
Sefton lifts his mug, wrapping both hands around it as he eases back into his chair, lifting it so that he can bow his head to allow the steam to wash over his face. He takes his time over this ritual, eventually bringing it up so that he can take a slow sip. And then he speaks. "If you do not wish to speak to me of it, Br'ce, that is entirely your decision," he agrees, as amiable as can be. "You will forgive me, however, for making certain assumptions, based on your refusal to speak to me of any sort of commitment." Has he noted Aida's reaction? A sidelong glance indicates that perhaps he has, one side of his mouth tugged upward in a brief smile.
Br'ce looks towards Aida, expecting her to jump in along with him. And when nothing of the sort happens, there's a distinctly dyspeptic expression on his face. The sort that occurs when one throws a bomb, and instead of BOOM, all you get is fzzt. Brows furrow at Aida in something that almost resembles irritation. Hey, you're supposed to be backing me up here! Attention turns back to Sefton, with a mulish set to his lips. "Yes, it is entirely /our/ decision." he corrects, with a reproving glance towards Aida. "And I will have none of your sophistry or sly implications, either. You are free to make any assumptions you wish to make." is says coldly, in his best offended aristocratic manner. "The fact that these assumptions may or may not be erroneous is none of my concern. It is, as you say, entirely your decision." Tea is left untouched in his lap, erect demeanor giving away nothing but an icy haughteur.
Her eyes swinging back to Br'ce once Sefton has responded, Aida's expression smoothes out to that perfect neutrality that she manages at times. Br'ce's response, his reactions -- these things cause a tightening of her shoulders and a stiffening of her own posture. Her initial words are caught before they escape, but this time she does not close her mouth entirely. "Actually," she speaks up, voice quiet and calm. "Sefton is the closest thing to family that I have here, Br'ce. Would you deny my father the answers to the questions that he has asked of you? If I took issue with him speaking on my behalf, do you not think that I would have objected?" She slides to her feet carefully with that spoken, giving Br'ce a raised eyebrow look before she turns and makes her way over to the table with the mugs and things, going about pouring herself a glass of juice as if this were any other meeting she were taking part in. "I take offense at you speaking to him that way, Br'ce."
"Women," Sefton drawls, presumably for Br'ce's benefit, "are often distresed when a young man who has been courting them declines to make a public declaration." Another slow sip of his tea, and he tilts his head back to allow the liquid to slide down his throat, savouring it as he so often does his alcoholic refreshments. "I would rather give you another book and send you on your way, Br'ce. I am trying very hard to be fair." He has infused his drawl with a faintly put-upon note, one hand coming away from the mug to rake his hair back from his face. "As you say, I must make assumptions if you will not assist me."
Br'ce rears his head back, looking almost as if Aida just physically slapped him. "The closest thing to family you have /here/, but he's not your father. It's not as if your father is several months' journey away, either. You are his assistant, not his daughter." There's a betrayed sort of expression on his face, quickly shuttered in favor of his aristocratic mask once more. "/I/ object and take offense. He is /not/ your father. This is not the proper way of doing things." he splutters, tea mug trembling in his lap. "This is hardly a forum for discussion of this nature, nor do you have any right to speak to me and imply such things. Our long past together still does not afford you liberties of this nature." His eyes narrow at Sefton, angrily, incensed by the calm matter of factness that the headmaster projects. "Fairness does not enter into this equation. Propriety does. You of all people should realize that. Fairness certainly does not extend to implying that--that--" Words are cut off, his mouth compressing into a thin line. All the embarrassment seems to have drained out of him, replaced by the flush of suppressed anger.
There's the temper. It rises in a flash in response to the show of it from Br'ce, and Aida at least manages to set her juice down instead of throwing it before she whirls to face the man. Oh, how those eyes flash with anger, and there it is -- the foot stomp. One foot lifts, and it's stamped down on the floor as her hands curl into fists at her sides. Mouth opens, and she starts to squawk -- and cuts the words off again, before they escape. She sets her jaw and grits her teeth, and then just brings her arms up to cross them over her chest and /glares/. She's trembling with it, but she is at least biting her tongue. It's probably bleeding at this point. There is another foot stomp thrown in for good measure, at least. Stamp! Mad!
Sefton and Aida, it turns out, make a matching set -- in their silence, at least. Rather than continue the debate, Sefton simply lifts his mug slowly, taking another sip. That done, he stretches his legs out yet further still in front of him, tilting his head forward so that his curls fall back into his eyes -- from behind that habitual shield he observes Aida for a moment, then turns his dark eyes on Br'ce. That tilt of his head is transformed into a nod of sorts, and his drawl is relaxed, even, as he continues. "So be it, then."
Br'ce glares back at Aida with equal fervor, unintimidated by the stomping for once. He doesn't like being surprised, and this conversation has really quite blindsided him, and he's holding Aida as much to blame as Sefton. He stares alternately at first one, then the other, growing almost brick-red with rage. A moment more of silence, before he breaks. "So be it, then!" is practically snarls as he jumps to his feet, heedless of the tea that slops over the edge of the mug onto him (burning, again) or the fact that the handle cracks off when he slams it down on a nearby table. He pauses in the doorway, looking back and searching for some appropriately scathing parting remark. Coming up with none, he settles for an inarticulate growl and slamming the door as he exits. Loudly.
Continuing to hold her tongue, Aida seems to get her temper at least marginally under control; both feet stay on the ground, at least. The young woman's chin lifts in response to his snarled words, and she says not a word to speak up and try to stop him from going. There is a little wince given in reaction to the door slamming, and then...well, she just blinks at it, frowning. Blink. Blink. Frown. Blink. "Well." It's spoken quietly and without anger, though her tone is certainly flat.
"Well," Sefton agrees, sounding far less flat, and certainly unconcerned. "I should say you have him well and truly hooked, Aida. Congratulations." Mild amusement runs through that drawl as he claims his mug once more, now forsaking his thoughtful sips in favour of a long gulp.
"All we ever do is fight," Aida complains quietly, throwing her hands up and losing the tension that was holding her shoulders so tight. She turns around and paces back to where her glass has been set down, reclaiming it and bringing it up for a careful drink. "I hadn't seen him for a week." A glance over. "It's not funny." Her nose is wrinkled at him.
Sefton watches her cross the room over the rim of his mug, hair still hanging down into his eyes. Another slow gulp, and then he speaks. "It is a little funny, Aida," he murmurs, not bothering to dim his amusement. "Although I am sorry to see you upset. I should have expected something of that sort from Br'ce. We grew up together, has he told you that?"
Rolling her eyes when he notes that it is funny, Aida shakes her head at him and takes another drink of juice. A deep breath is taken, held, and then released. "No," she replies, quietly. "He hasn't. Anyway -- there's a Journeyman Harper that wants to see you, apparently on the Masterharper's business, but he was all but impossible to get to make an appointment. He did -- under duress -- but I don't expect him to hold to it. Just so you know." See Aida. See Aida dive back behind business. She, and her glass of juice, head back for her desk. "Also, I had a nice talk with Miniyal earlier. I don't think that I'm going to have any problems working with her."
"If the Journeyman Harper wandering the weyr at large, or does he come and go?" Sefton asks, almost whimsical. "I shall keep my eyes peeled." Another gulp, and his tea is disposed of, the mug pushed away across the desk. "If you can find a way to work well with Miniyal, I shall be very pleased indeed." Their former conversation, however, is not concluded -- after all, only Br'ce's half has been conducted so far. "Now, Aida, it is your turn. You must tell me, are you serious about your young man?"
Settling herself down into her chair, Aida sets her juice down just so, and then pauses. Her desk is blinked down at, and then she's lifting her chin and shifting on her chair, turning back to look at Sefton again. "He is staying here, I believe," she points out. "The Harper, I mean." That's all she says for a good long few moments, the time after taken for eying the headmaster with bemusement. Eventually, she shrugs one shoulder lightly. "I don't know," she replies. "I really...don't know. There's a lot of complications, and a lot of fighting. A lot that we don't talk about, can't talk about, because it makes him or me or both of us a little ill." Pause. "This is a bad moment for that question, though, because I'm very angry with him for how he was speaking to you, and...that whole mess. I really wish that /one/ person could respect my wishes in all of this."
Sefton knows a cue when he hears it, and he does not fail to reply to this one; "Aida, I have enormous respect for your wishes, and I very much hope I have given you no reason to think otherwise." His drawl proves its versatility now, lowering to impart a certain gravity upon this pronouncement. "Br'ce was doing what he thought was right. He has changed very little since he was a boy. You should not judge him on his stiffness. It reflects something in him that is very admirable, if occasionally a little foolish."
Rolling her eyes, Aida shakes her head and makes a face at him. "Not /you/," she points out, her tone a little petulant. "You're the only one, these days. Everybody else..." She trails off, shaking her head and closing her eyes, dropping her head down against the back of her chair. "It's always about what he thinks is right," she points out quietly. "How he expects it to go. What he should say, what he should do. It's like having a relationship with an etiquette book, almost."
Sefton laughs, making no effort at all to conceal his amusement. "An etiquette book?" He's delighted with the comparison, raking his curls back from his face as he slumps in his chair, propping his chin up on one hand. A lazy king, sprawled on his throne. "All pointy edges and paper cuts then, I should think. Tell me, Aida, why is it that you let him pursue you, then? Set your irritation aside for a moment and tell me. You must see some merit in him."
"You're laughing at me again," Aida reminds him absently, as if he weren't aware of this fact. Her cheek stays against the back of her chair though, her eyes remaining closed. "And you're just trying to talk me out of being mad at him." These words hold a hint of an accusation, though it's gone away again when she continues. "He's intelligent, he's sweet, he's handsome, he's interesting, and...I don't know. I *like* him. I really do. It's not like he's awful, or anything. I'm not saying he /doesn't/ have merit. I'm just wondering if it's worth all of this. Even when we're not fighting, the only time we see each other is when we're exhausted, and I'm an awful person to be involved with, anyway. He could do a lot better than somebody who's only vaguely there and is eventually going to be gone on a different path anyway."
Sefton obediently converts to silent laughter, although the amusement still runs through his drawl when he speaks. "Either he is worth the effort, Aida, or he is not. Whatever lies in your future, it is well over the horizon just yet. I hope you will stay with me far longer than your promised turn, and I have several turns to spend here just yet." This, however, is not the point. Propping up his chin on his knuckles, he continues. "My point stands. Either he is worth the effort, or he is not. If he is, then you must make it. We men can be very simple creatures."
Lashes lifting, Aida sits up enough to turn and set her chin on the back of the chair this time, peering over at him. "Well, I hope I'm going to be staying with you for longer than the already agreed to turn," she points out, tone touching with annoyance. "This is a lot of time and effort to put in for both of us if it's only temporary." She rolls her eyes again, then uncurls and slides back up to her feet, grabbing her juice. It's gulped from, her free arm wrapping around her midsection as she starts to pace. "I know that your point stands, and that you're right. I just don't *know*. It's all painfully confusing."
"Mmmmm." Sefton's hum of reply is faintly reproving, the amusement draining away momentarily. "I will hold you for no longer than you have contracted for. I will have you for as long as you will stay with me, Aida." His dark eyes follow her as she rises, resting on her as she paces -- he allows her a couple of turns before he replies. "He is certainly sure of his feelings. I have watched him from a boy. He is stiff-necked enough at times, but his bluster was not entirely because he felt my question was out of line." He pauses, then, as though his next thought has only just occurred to him. "You must forgive me, if it was."
Pace, pace, pace. Aida finds herself a little winding course, circling back and forth between her desk and one of the bookshelves. She glances over at him at his initial reply, frowning for a moment and then shaking her head. "I've already decided," she points out, the annoyance gone. That's all she has to say on that topic, following the words with another gulp of juice and more pacing. His last statement draws her up short, and she gives him a 'What?' sort of look. "It wasn't. Or even if it was, *I* felt it was reasonable. It was sort of...I mean, uh." Whatever she started to try and say is abandoned in favor of staring over at him with a startled sort of look. That holds for two heartbeats before she smirks, turning away and going back to pacing as she notes with heavy sarcasm, "It was rather reassuring." Go go, self mocking.
Sefton continues to watch her pacing, allowing the silence to draw out as he considers her for a moment. Finally, he exhales heavily -- it's almost a sigh, and pushes up from where his chin is propped on his fist. "You had best go and find him, Aida, before his wounded pride hardens on you. If you would have preferred him to claim you before a witness, then I imagine he would have preferred you to stand behind him while he defended what he imagined to be his honour." Reaching forward, the headmaster claims his stack of mail. "I can make do without you this afternoon."
Again, Aida's hauled up short; this time, there's a flicker of something wounded there as she looks his way. It's gone again in a blink, and she's straightening herself out and giving a dip of her head a moment later. "Alright," she says quietly. "I'll see you in the morning, then." She moves again; this time detouring to set her glass down beside the pitcher on her way for the door, steps unusually swift.
Sefton doesn't rise as she departs -- that is reserved for those of his students or visitors whose rank demands such a courtesy -- but he does watch until she's out of sight. Then he exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks as he empties his lungs of air, eyes closing slowly. For a moment, he looks more tired than anything else -- and then his lips quirk to a wry smile. With a shake of his head, he hauls himself upright in his chair, and next thing he's reaching for his first letter.