Shoot First, Ask Later

True to his word, B'jin had marched straight from the Healer's Hall and began the rather laborious journey to the hut he was not at all keen to reach but rapidly approaching none the less. The walk had loosened the pulled and sore muscles from the night before, which had eased his walk from staggering to an easy and light one. His right arm was tender, but he'd washed his hands in a bucket of water, and was pretty sure the rash would be allowed to fade now. He rarely left numbweed on his skin, since discovering the allergy when he was a young child, as he knew doing so tended to make it a lot worse. But, he'd be fine soon enough. His left elbow was somewhat more of a mess, since he'd used it to smash out the window in order to get water for Talian. He hadn't bothered to even glance at it, because he didn't want to know how badly it was cut up; there was definitely some type of damage there, but he wasn't worried about it yet.

B'jin had had Larrikith bespeak Ronarth; while he highly doubted that the Weyrleader was asleep after the racket that had been made the night before, B'jin wasn't about to risk waking the man up as well. As he came to a halt outside the man's hut, B'jin wondered if he should have taken the time to wash up before appearing, or if being covered in Talian's blood would win him more sympathy. Likely, it would cause more issues than not, B'jin decided, but he was already there and undoubtedly Ronarth had no told D'ren his trouble making visitor had arrived. Taking a deep breath, B'jin raised his left knuckle to rap loudly and firmly on the door twice, before dropping his arm and waiting for a sound of approval to be heard. Once he had, B'jin pushed the door open quietly and closed it behind him with a gentle click.

Gaze flicking around the main room of the hut, B'jin took in the kitchen table. It seemed the most appropriate place to take a seat. So being decided, the greenrider marched seriously across the room and quietly took a seat, turning a stoic brown gaze upon D'ren, his expression clearly asked D'ren if he'd like to kill him first, or ask questions. B'jin obviously didn't care which the bronzerider chose, since he was already convinced he was a walking dead man. There was only so much shit a lowly greenrider could get away with in a handful of months, and B'jin was pretty sure he'd stepped firmly across the line with Searching Talian; never mind everything else!

"I'm going to murder you."

The bronzerider's words were sharp, low and distressingly serious as he stepped out of his sleeping chamber, expression stony and eyes sagging from lack of sleep. The keening had kept him awake all night, especially with Ronarth being one of the first to join in.  News of Larrikith's shameful treatment of the hallfolk hadn't reached him until moments before, otherwise he'd have made an early appearance at the actual scene. He'd thought at the time that there was little he could do. A candidate had apparently committed suicide. The news had made him sick! But now, early in the morning and still unshaven and unwashed, the full story reached him, and he was angry with himself for dismissing it prior!

He pointed one finger at B'jin as he stalked across the room. "I...don't even know what to say to you!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air with frustration and disbelief. "Tell me B'jin, were you sent from the darkest pits of between just to make sure I never have any rest? Shards!"

He paused to rub his temples. He felt like he was going to be sick. "Ronarth tells me that you're boy survived," he said wearily. "...I'm glad about that. I feel bad enough about taking their lives from them without them deciding to do so literally."  He narrowed his eyes a bit. So much for having B'jin FIX the little bastard!

"Do you know the rumors I've been hearing? Healer Hall was in an uproar over his disappearance, and another searchrider made a mistake and picked up the girl you mentioned.  Isn't that trouble enough? And now I find out that Larrikith was...was punting people around the lawn in front of our hall?!"

For a moment, it seemed like he may actually strike the greenrider. He stopped, however, catching himself and lowering both hands. He crossed them across his chest to keep them in check. "Unbelievable. Tell me, B'jin, how would you feel if you found out she'd really hurt someone?" He was just as angry at himself for not going over there and stopping it, but he'd been under the impression that the damage was already done. He relied on Ronarth to bring him such news, but Ronarth was stupid and had been too confused to be any help.

Sharding dragons!

"B'jin, you are grounded!" D'ren snapped. He didn't look finished, though. Just thinking.

"I figured," B'jin replied mildly, watching D'ren stalk towards him with a bland kind of interest. He supposed it was a similar emotion to what Talian was likely feeling before the greenrider had crashed the party. Watching death creep towards you without any real desire to turn it away. Entice it, sure, but turn it away? B'jin's eyebrows shot up in mocking surprise at D'ren's frustrated lack of articulating skills, and amusement flashed behind the warm brown as he watched the Weyrleader struggle.

Apparently, B'jin decided absently, he really did want to die. "Probably." He replied lightly, answering the rhetorical question with mocking seriousness as he frowned in thought. "Oh, yeah, he did." He added, almost happy as he flashed a quick grin. "It was bit of a battle," he added, plucking at his dried and bloody shirt, "But we came out triumphant!" He grinned and waved his hand as he spoke, the level of sarcasm lost within the tirade of dry amusement.

"That's hardly my fault," B'jin pointed out reasonably, completely ignoring the first part of D'ren's gripe in order to focus on the important bit. He raised an eyebrow at the Weyrleader, the greenrider's expression somewhere between amused and irritated at having blame laid on him for something that definitely wasn't his fault. "I gave you the girl's name, her description and rank. How in the name of Threadfall is it my fault if some idiot went and grabbed her?"

"That would depend on who it was," B'jin smirked, though he flinched back visibly when D'ren came at him. His brown eyes hardened and he glared at the Weyrleader, daring him to hit him, though he remained pressed back in his chair. Unlike the last few times D'ren had had at B'jin for being a fool, B'jin wasn't a cowering tearful mess, or a well laid flight attendee. This time, the greenrider  was tired, he was grumpy, and he was more than willing to press every button the Weyrleader had on display. Which, being D'ren, was always a large selection of juicy options.

"Really?" B'jin drawled, staring at D'ren in mild shock. Grounded? Was that all the man could come up with? This was the third time B'jin and his green monstrosity had caused havoc for the Weyrleader and enough paper work to deforest half of Pern, and all the man could think to do was ground him? "What happened to murdering me?" B'jin asked curiously, eyebrows arching as he smiled coyly.

Leave it to B'jin to latch on to the wrong detail. D'ren glared back at him irritably. He was willing to let B'jin smart off about the girl without much other consequence. It was annoying, but whatever. D'ren was choosing a different battle. His great point here was: how much trouble can a greenrider cause before enough was enough?

"B'jin," he warned softly as the greenrider rattled on, sarcasm pouring out of him on a level D'rne had never seen, but wasn't surprised to see. He felt his blood boiling just a bit and sweat starting to dampen his shirt collar. Still, he reminded himself to be patient. B'jin had been through a rough time, right? He deserved a little bit of patience. That's what D'ren reminded himself, at least. He was stressed and tired as well, and in no mood to deal with yet more antics from the greenrider.

Outside, Ronarth shifted unhappily in his wallow.

D'ren?  I-

Shut up

Okay

There was an odd, awkward mental silence. Ronarth stayed quiet as D'ren stared disbelievingly at B'jin, barely able to keep his jaw from going slack. Ronarth creeled. B'jin, I think you need to stop the bronze whispered, his thick body bristling with discomfort at the unfamiliar emotions coming from his bonded. The pair were a sight, that was for sure. D'ren was a gentle man with a long fuse, but he was more than capable of anger when roused. It didn't suit him, though, and was certainly exceptional behavior.

Well, Talian was optimistic and happy this morning. It seemed like uncharacteristic or rare behavior was on the rise.

The last part was just too much. The bronzerider was completely scandalized and frustrated by B'jin's backtalk. Without warning, D'ren reached out and seized B'jin's shirt collar and gave him a violent jerk. "So help me, B'jin!" he warned. "You have one chance to shut your mouth before I really do murder you. Did you listen at all to what I said? You can't allow your dragon to behave that way. Someone could have been hurt, or worse! Now I understand you were taking care of an urgent situation, but shards!"

He released B'jins shirt and crossed his arms again, face red. "You've been a dragonrider for how many turns? You should be able to control her better by now. The keening is one thing, but actually physically accosting people?"

He bit his lip and tapped his foot, struggling to stay patient. "If being grounded isn't enough for you, we can keep going," he said, the anger dropping off in his tone just a little. "We can start with double chores. I can do this all day," he said, giving B'jin one final chance to stop. He already hated to punish the greenrider, but he had to. He let B'jin get away with too much as it is - and smarting off to a superior like this was unacceptable.

Don't. Larrikith muttered, but her voice went to Ronarth, not B'jin. Her tone was light, but carried a level of warning within it. You'll make it worse. True to what the green dragon was saying, instead of heeding Ronarth's warning, the man seemed to take it as a cheer to do further damage; and he charged right in without a care in the world.

"Help you how?" B'jin purred lowly. While his eyes burned a furious fire at being manhandled, he made no move to stop his Weyrleader, and instead came onto him, figuring that would be a far better way to get his personal space back than to convert to physical confrontation that struggling would bring about. B'jin was not particularly good at breaking noses, and was liable to end up far messier after a brawl than his partner. "But aren't we greens best known for our wicked mouths?" He crooned softly, before D'ren released him and he toppled back into his seat. A wicked smirk converted his face, the expression sensual and naughty in a way B'jin would never have dreamed of aiming at D'ren; except the greenrider knew it would get him what he wanted, which was nothing in line with what he was appearing to offer. His eyes still burned furiously, and if D'ren were able to look past the immediate mask, he'd be able to see exactly how outraged B'jin was at being thrown around like a rag doll by someone he respected and admired. He got that plenty from the blue and brownriders, without having someone like D'ren added to the fray. Just because B'jin was small enough to toss around, didn't mean everyone could go open season on him!

Then he had the gall to go at him about control! B'jin's expression altered again, this time becoming a sneer of disgust as he stood up forcefully, knocking his chair over backwards in the heated movement. "Control? Control!" He was hissing between his teeth and glaring at D'ren, his face reddening with outrage. "How dare you!" B'jin smashed both hands down on the table, swore vilely, and then spun on D'ren again, advancing on the more heavily built man in a wild fury. He stopped inches from the other, faces level. If looks were capable of sending people between, D'ren probably would have been lost forever.

"How dare you!" B'jin snarled the three words between his teeth, beyond furious as he shook with rage and lost all ability to articulate his wild fury at having his control of Larrikith called into question. D'ren had no idea what it was like, dealing with her! B'jin hissed between his teeth, the slur he'd been going to voice against Ronarth's lack of intelligence compared to Larrikith's squished by the green dragon in question before it could fully form. Don't go there, she whispered, and B'jin obeyed, though the look he shot D'ren spoke volumes. Just because his dragon was smart enough to function on her own steam!

"Whatever," B'jin snarled, spinning away from D'ren and very seriously thinking about kicking the chair he'd sent flying earlier; Larrikith reminded him he had bare feet before he'd done more than alter his balance, and instead, the man swept it up and slammed it down, promptly seating himself in it. Brown eyes settled on D'ren, burning, lips twitching as he refraining from snarling with obvious effort, and he crossed his shaking arms across his heaving chest, breathing heavily through his nose. Where are you? his tone was clipped as he contacted the green dragon, but her own was mild when she responded. Watching your brat. Come here, he commanded, not bothering to articulate his desire to fly somewhere, anywhere far from this situation, as soon as he could escape the room. Shall I get my leathers? Don't bother. Maybe D'ren would get lucky and B'jin would fall off and Larrikith would go between and all the Weyrleader's problems would be solved.

The greenrider sneered, disgust contorting his face.

D'ren's immediate reaction to B'jin's strange behavior was to assume that Larrikith was proddy, but thanks to the previous close call, D'ren quickly realized that couldn't be the case. He frowned as he watched B'jin pull away. He quickly saw through the mask, and upon seeing that dreadful look of anger and betrayal, he felt a small hint of regret at having lost his temper so. He'd never been one to toss greenriders around like pieces of property, even though hew knew it was common and accepted behavior for bronzeriders to do just that. He'd never done it, and he immediately regretted it.

It wasn't enough to make him apologize or even back down, but it was enough to keep things from escalating. He reminded himself that he wasn't just a rider getting in a brawl with a wingmate, he was the  Weyrleader. B'jin was his best searchrider and one of his favorites. That didn't excuse the behavior on either end, but it meant he needed to hit the brakes before he got angrier and things got completely out of control.

He cast a stern look art the greenrider as he went off on another rant, ultimately stalking up right to his face. D'ren didn't move, he just looked back at B'jin with a stark expression of disappointment. He was still angry, yes, but he was no fool. He could see something was wrong here. B'jin was acting strange without explanation, so the only explanation must have been stress. He'd just nearly lost that kid that he'd become foolishly too attached to. Of course, D'ren wasn't going to say that. He envied B'jin's pseduo-family and probably would have done the same if he'd been the one to search the poor kid.

"I don't know what the shards is wrong with you," he said, shaking his head and frowning. "But we're done here. You're acting like a child," Big surprise there "and I don't have time for it. You're suspended from all duty, and I'll get back to you later on the rest. I'd better not catch you flying," he said. He sighed. "B'jin, you're one of my favorites, you know that. But you're a fool if you think you can just get away with anything. If Larrikith ever attacks someone again, I'll probably have to banish you both." The pause in his voice revealed just how much he didn't want to do that.

Outside, Ronarth picked up on B'jin's anger and spite well enough to have his feelings hurt. He curled into the smallest ball he could manage and let out a long, mournful croon.  There, there D'ren said after a moment, Calm down. I think we all just said a lot of things we didn't mean

Ronarth wasn't reassured. But you like B'jin! And I thought he liked you!

He's having an emotional moment, Ronarth. Just give him time

The Weyrleader sighed. It was neverending, the drama.

An eyebrow arched mockingly at D'ren's exclamation, as he fought the desire to laugh bitterly at the Weyrleader. Oh, poor darling D'ren! Something he didn't know! The horror! While the attitude likely shone through on his face, none of it actually made it past his lips until D'ren scolded him for acting like a child. That caused the younger man to snort sarcastically. He managed to bite his tongue, however, before he spat out an insulting dig at D'ren himself. He was already in enough trouble that he probably wouldn't be allowed to do anything at all interesting for the next six turns; there was no point in adding to his misery... was there?

"Don't worry," he snarled. "You won't." Larrikith was a small dragon, and the pair had long since perfected the more dangerous techniques, such as betweening from the ground into the air. He'd just have her between a long way out of D'ren's line of sight. "Don't see why you haven't," B'jin snapped, "solve all your problems then, wouldn't it?" Getting up, B'jin shoved the chair roughly under the table and bowed mockingly to D'ren. Apparently having all his duties stripped from him had made him reckless once more, and the greenrider was mildly disappointed he wasn't wearing his knots, just so he could throw them in D'ren's face. The same thought reminded him Talian's knots were still soaking in a puddle of blood and poison. He'd have to collect them at some point, if he hadn't already been beat.

He's just upset, Larrikith crooned to Ronarth, her tone muted and reassuring as she bespoke the bronze, picking up mildly on his distress. It wasn't that she didn't want to reassure the bronze, but more that she had higher priorities and that particular priority was snarling at the Weyrleader as she landed lightly outside of D'ren's hut. He doesn't mean most of it.  She wouldn't say all, not when she could clearly read his thoughts. There was little that riled B'jin up more than being manhandled without permission, which, she expected, was the main source of his previous little display. Control indeed!

"Later." B'jin hissed, turning on his heel and stalking across the room. Flinging the door open, the greenrider was very pleased to see Larrikith crouched and waiting for him. Flinging himself aboard, and glaring defiantly at D'ren's doorway, B'jin stroked Larrikith's neck with long, soothing motions. Knowing he was doing it more for himself than her, didn't stop the dragon feeling that much more relieved.

I need to eat, Larrikith said mildly, trying to sooth B'jin in return. All she got for her efforts was a snapping reply and an image of where he wanted to be. The little dragon sighed melodramatically before promptly vanishing between without so much as twitching a wing in preparation for her appearance several hundred dragon lengths above the Eastern Hunting Range. B'jin just had no idea when he'd pushed enough buttons. It was one thing to tell the Weyrleader they wouldn't be caught flying. It was another to blatantly show off!

It was going to be a very, very long day, Larrikith decided, as she spiraled down.