Past and Present [D'ren]

B'jin was feeling decidedly discontent as he sat curled on his couch, a board spread over his raised knees and his back buried in the corner of the couch, a manner of seating he was finally able to enjoy once more, though the stitches were a nuisance and B'jin was sorely sick of putting up with them. Larrikith's flight that morning had done little to help his healing wounds, and the greenrider had been less than impressed when realised he would have to get several seen to. His mood hadn't been improved when he had been informed that Talian was preoccupied with 'something far more important' and would not be available. B'jin had bit his tongue as the middle aged woman tuttered and saw to his wounds. When she'd tried to lather numbweed on his back, B'jin decided he'd had enough and ripped her a new one, flinging the pot with a backhanded slap across the room. The poor girl had ended up in tears, but she should have known better than to mess with a greenrider! Especially one who was still getting hormones and emotions under control! B'jin mumbled to himself as he drew a harsh line across the paper, sighed, and set about fixing it.

B'jin was surprised he hadn't had S'kef bashing in his door and dragging him back to the Gather Square for it, though the way Larrikith had bristled at the mere idea had had him quickly smothering the thought as he continued his work, soft lead swirling across the sheet as he worked on a greyscale image. The soft shades between black and white didn't have the eye catching glamour of colours, but B'jin preferred it because of that. Frowning slightly as he concentrated on an eye, B'jin felt Larrikith stir on the edge of his consciousness, and the warm liquid feeling as she joined her eyesight with his. Will this one be good enough? the little green asked with amused fondness. B'jin snorted, but didn't answer immediately. Depends, dearest.. Of course it does, she replied, the eyeroll in her voice if not on her features. You should eat. Not hungry, love, but you need to hunt. I  know you haven't since last week. Larrikith gave a mental shrug. Since when do you keep an eye on my diet? B'jin laughed softly, and shaded a portion of his portrait. I've kept tabs on your food intake since our first day together, love.. Larrikith was highly amused. Very well then, I hunt. Will you join me?

"Naa," B'jin yawned, putting the portrait on the coffee table and standing up. He carefully stretched, grimacing when joints popped and skin stretched. "I think I'll go see what D'ren is up to." A pause. "Is he alone?" The Weyrsecond is not with him. They bathe at the lake side. B'jin's startled curiosity was thick. If he comes near you, my love, I will rip him in half, before I toss him between. That he-! "Enough." B'jin cut his dragon off, tone sharp, and he felt her withdraw, the action filled with venom like a child who was saying sorry only because there were threats hovering over their head, not because they wanted to. The rider ignored his dragon as he entered his room, and dug up something to wear, pausing only for a moment as he heard Larrikith stand on his roof and then felt her vanish between. When he was aware of her reappearance over the Hunting Ranges, B'jin went back to his self assigned task.

The searchrider swapped his lazy day and particularly comfortable (and completely tacky) pants for a pair that were much more aesthetically pleasing, but not nearly as comfortable as the well worn and much loved pair. Digging up a shirt, the man paused once more when he realised R'nd still had the one he'd worn those handful of weeks ago. Hostage indeed! B'jin smirked and decided he'd steal it back, and possibly one of the bluerider's favourites to hold hostage himself. War was war, after all, and B'jin was pretty sure his shirt missed him as much as he missed it. It would also provide R'nd with an excuse to poke around his house. The bluerider was far too twitchy about entering his home, and B'jin hadn't managed to decide if it were because he was worried about B'jin's brats popping in for a visit or if he was waiting for B'jin to kick him out. B'jin doubted either course would occur; Larrikith kept his children away and R'nd would have to push some serious buttons to end up on his arse out B'jin's door. Unable to determine which it was, B'jin had settled for not saying anything; he enjoyed R'nd's company too much and was unwilling to risk scaring the younger man off with a well meaning but badly taken comment. R'nd was flighty, and B'jin had no desire to set him off.

Tugging the shirt over his head, B'jin shoved the sleeves up messily and tied the lacing across his chest with deft movements even as he walked back through his small home. Reaching the door, the greenrider paused and then back tracked to his table. Picking up the piece of art he'd been working on, B'jin frowned at it critically. Lips pursed in irritation, he made to scrunch it up, as he had done with many before it, when Larrikith's voice ricocheted through his mind with force. If you destroy that one, too, I swear to Faranth between I will fill his head with every sharding memory I can find. B'jin froze, and stared down at the sketch. A moment later, he strode across to the bookshelf he kept tucked away, and carefully stowed the image away. "Fine," he grumbled, and left his hut, not bothering with shoes. If he couldn't destroy it, he'd just hide it. Larrikith gave a mental eyeroll, before dropping on a beast and beginning to feed.

The trip to the Weyrleader's hut was swift, with B'jin's strides purposeful and confident he slipped between the other huts, waving casual greetings at friends and stopping upon occasion to exchange a few words, laughter bubbling up with ease. By the time he reached D'ren's home, B'jin's sour mood and frustration with his artwork was well behind him. A cheerful expression on his face and his stance relaxed, the greenrider lifted a hand in greeting to the great bronze dragon relaxing outside his bonded's house. "Hey, Ronarth! D'ren up?" Not waiting for an answer he stopped before the door and knocked on it twice, before pushing it open and stepping through.

"Oi! D'ren! Get your lazy arse out of bed, man. The day is young, but you are not!" Grinning cheekily, B'jin wiped his bare feet on the doormat, before pushing said door shut with a soft flick of the wrist and making his way to the kitchen.

Ronarth was bored.

In spite of his steadily-increasing age, the bronze was still as energetic as a hatchling. Today had started off on a remarkably boring day for Ronarth, who'd woken early and wanted badly to go fly, had been waiting anxiously for D'ren to finish paperwork all morning.

Excitement filled him as B'jin approached. B'jin he greeted fondly. He rolled playfully onto his back and allowed his feet to stick up in the air, not unlike a runner rolling in the dirt. His eyes whirled blue as he rolled his head back to look up at B'jin, whose current upside-down state amused the bronze.

He is Ronarth cooed, but he is not happy. He keeps complaining that blueriders will be the death of him. And trying to pull his hair out. I wish he wouldn't do that the dragon babbled idly, his extreme boredom showing through.

Inside, D'ren was working on yet another mass of paperwork. Some sketches of potential Weyr additions and wing formations were scattered all about; a dreary application for his well-developed artistic skills. He never had time to draw for pleasure anymore, though he still kept a whole folder of nothing but sketches he'd done of Ronarth as a dragonet. Hard to believe that walking disaster had ever been so small!

Ronarth didn't warn him of B'jin's approach, so when the greenrider began knocking and shouting, D'ren groaned. He didn't mind them being there, but a littlw warning would have been nice!

"I was up with the sun," he said as he spun around in his chair, sparing a weary smile for the greenrider. D'ren hadn't eaten anything or even combed his hair yet, so he was a rightful mess. A mess, but thankful to see B'jin in such a good mood.

"What brings you here?" he asked with a blend of curiosity and concern. He did not want to hear that something else was wrong. He didn't want to repeat the last incident, either.

B'jin grinned happily as Ronarth's mindvoice rippled across his consciousness and he watched the bronze dragon with amusement as the creature sprawled on his back. The greenrider laughed softly as the dragon continued to speak, highly amused. "Sounds like he could use some company, then." B'jin smirked playfully, entering the hut and calling out obnoxiously despite what Ronarth had told him.

The greenrider laughed at D'ren's response. "Of course you were," he said, rolling his eyes and not bothering to approach the Weyrleader at that moment. "Boredom," B'jin answered honestly, continuing his trip to D'ren's kitchen and poking around as he dug up mugs and then sniffed the pot of klah that was resting over the cooking pit. He hrmm'd for a moment, and stuck his finger in it. It was quickly extracted, surprise flittering over his face at the warmth of the liquid. Satisfied, B'jin poured some into both of the mugs he had found, and wandered back to where D'ren was seated, dragging a chair along as well, both mugs held in one hand, the back rest of the seat clutched in the other.

"Here," dropping his grip on the chair, B'jin took one mug per hand once more, and carefully set D'ren's down on a clear portion of the table. Eyebrows raising slightly, the greenrider picked up a sketch of building enhancements and looked it over appreciatively. Putting it down gently, he spread the rest of the images out, looking them over with obvious enjoyment. "These are good," he murmured, voice soft. Picking up a flight formation, his eyebrows rose slightly. Putting his own mug down, B'jin shuffled through the sketches, extracting the wing formations as brown eyes lit up. "You're going to reinstate wings?" He asked, excitement burning in his voice as he lifted his face, eyes searching out D'ren's.

Hooking his foot around the leg of the chair, B'jin dragged it closer and sat down lightly, sitting forward on the edge as he riffled through the pages of formations, completely ignoring everything else as he got swept up in the implications. "Real wings," he gushed happily, voice barely above a sigh. "That should shut up a lot of people," he added sourly.

B'jin wasn't oblivious to the unhappy opinion a lot people now held for their Weyrleader, something he was completely disproving of, but had rarely spoken up against. It was a bit of a blow to announce that you had deserved to have your back ripped to shreds and that you approved of the course of action. For B'jin was remarkably approving of being used as D'ren's example. As a well known favourite, his being lashed had far more effect than if he'd chosen a random rider, or even used a Stolen as an example. He approved, but that didn't mean he was about to go shouting it to the world. S'kef might get ideas.

"Do you have some spare parchment? You don't have a couple of formations we used at Telgar."

D'ren watched with a bit of apprehension as B'jin entered, storming through D'ren's carefully groomed hut like a miniature tornado. The aging bronzerider cringed a bit when he heard B'jin rattling through his kitchen, undoubtedly touching his things. He frowned dourly and reminded himself that B'jin was just being B'jin; contrary to the display on the gather square, D'ren never wanted to see the poor greenrider's spirit crushed.

But great Faranth. Really?

He bit his lip and watched as B'jin made his way over to the desk. "So I think I heard a crack about me being old?" D'ren said threateningly, though to anyone who really knew him knew he wasn't being threatening at all.  His voice had to drop low to be in dangerous territory, but right now it was loud, with just a tinge of exaggerated aggravation. He and B'jin knew each other's games by this point, and in spite of himself, D'ren was happy to play them right now.

He really, really needed a distraction. B'jin was always a lovely distraction (well, usually) and seemed to be in a friendly mood in spite of everything.

He smiled brightly when B'jin noticed his rough wing sketches. The bronzerider could have done without B'jin putting his hands all over his nice sketches, but still...if anyone else in this damn jungle was going to respect art, it was B'jin.

"I am," D'ren said, sounding both pleased and tired. "Well, we're going to start the process. It's going to take a while," he said, "but we need to get the ball rolling." He arched a brow at B'jin's suggestion. He wasn't sure if he wanted any more potential formations to sift through. S'kef had provided all of the Telgar flight formations that D'ren cared to have, but he didn't want to say as much to B'jin. He smirked a bit and decided to let the greenrider have his fun.

He slid one of his notepads towards B'jin and nodded towards it. He forgot that the particular tablet had one of his many baby Ronarth sketches pressed loose between it's pages; he'd needed to put it somewhere safe after showing it to Tsuen and wound up tossing it in a notebook. Ronarth looked especially curious and adorable in that one, and just a bit too fat.

B'jin grinned impishly, and arched a single brow at D'ren, empty hand brushing hair back out of his face. He still hadn't gotten around to trimming it, and R'nd's carefully thrown comment hadn't helped with the process. The greenrider wasn't particularly fond of long hair, it got in the way and was a pain to manage when he could just shear it all off and pretend like he didn't have any until the next time it got lengthy. He'd humour the bluerider, though, if only because doing so could win favours. R'nd's favours were definitely desirable.

"Really?" B'jin purred teasingly, highly amused. "Who would ever label you old?" Brown eyes widened innocently while a quirky smile twisted the man's lips upward at the corners. "Such cheek!" B'jin exclaimed in a mocking display of outrage, shaking his head.

D'ren needn't worry about B'jin's handling of his work. His hands were clean, and he was careful to only hold the edges of the parchment, not interested in smudging or otherwise spoiling the work his Weyrleader had put into each of the images. "Brilliant," B'jin murmured as D'ren spoke, shifting his gaze to watch the older man with interest. "I want in," he said frankly, taking the note pad D'ren passed him with a slight nod of thanks. "Larri's too small to hold any rank of worth, but I like to think we can pull more weight than just switch-riders."

The little green dragon would never last an entire fall, and would probably be lucky to make it though half of one. Too small, too swift, too green all around (not to mention over weight and under exercised) for the pair to hold any more than wingrider, despite their capabilities and general life experience. B'jin knew he was hardly the eldest or most favourable rider in the Weyr, but shard it, he was highly educated (more so than most the Weyr, excluding only the newly Impressed and the stolen!) and refused to be nothing more than a switch rider for some random wing. Larrikith, peering in, sent her strong support. Maybe not the most prideful pair in the Weyr, but they still had self standards.

Flicking the notepad open, B'jin gasped in surprise when a page slid free, eyes widening momentarily in worry that he'd turned the page too hard, before he realised it had come from deep within the empty pages. Carefully picking it up from where it had slid into his lap, the greenrider's face lit up with delight, a small smile flickering over his lips and brown eyes sparkling. "Oh, this is adorable." B'jin said softly, voice both mild and amused. "Larri wasn't the only pudgy dragonet, I see," He glanced up at D'ren, winking playfully. "Of course, some dragons have toned up." He flinched with a cackle when Larrikith told him just what she thought of that little dig, and hadn't he mentioned just moments earlier he supported her eating habits?! Encouraged them even?

Snickering to himself, B'jin carefully offered D'ren the sketch back. "Your work is lovely," the greenrider offered gently, not completely unaware of the fact that D'ren was unlikely to have meant to share such with him. B'jin himself was fiercely possessive of his own work and while he bartered some for things he wanted or needed, he rarely showed off his actual work. Which was, when he got right down to it, a probable reason why no one was allowed in his hut... Although that particular list was getting longer recently, B'jin thought with a light frown. Stealing a lead pencil from the table, the man scribbled a quick sketch of his old Wingleader's favoured formation.

"You wouldn't know anything about being cheeky, would you?" D'ren theorized with a half-smile. He was secretly quite pleased to see B'jin in such a good mood, good enough to just come stomping right into the hut and just make himself at home. That was the B'jin everyone knew and loved. He was bouncing back just as well as D'ren had hoped.

Which was good. He wanted to put the whole lashing business behind him, and if B'jin was content to not talk about it, so was D'ren.

He listened quietly to B'jin's comments about switchriding and just slowly shook his head. "You realize all greens switch, right?" he asked patiently. It didn't surprise him that his spunky greenrider wanted something more, but that was just how things went. Every dragon color had it's own crucial role, and greens were the very best...but without the stamina to go all the way. That's just how things worked.

"Im sure Larrikith will be a terror while she's up there, though. I'd like to have you in my own wing, actually." His calm tone carefully hid any traces of anxiety, but they boiled in his gut. He wasn't looking forward to the idea of threadfall, but at the same time he felt a bit ashamed that he would be too old to actually fly thread once it finally came.

Flying thread was his responsibility. He was a dragonrider, a bronzerider! Of course, anyone else would have reminded him that rebuilding the Weyr was service enough, but he would never, ever feel like he was finished. He would never feel like he'd done enough.

It wasn't enough until everything was perfect, but a single man can't save Pern by himself.

He sighed, releasing his tension before it grew to be too much, and shifted his attention back to B'jin. "If you have any ideas, though..." he offered casually. If B'jin had something in mind within his dragon's capabilities, more power to him. "I'm going to keep an eye on that new bronzerider Allendris...he may make a good new wingleader one day," he thought aloud.

He paused when his drawing slid out of the notebook and wound up in B'jin's hands. D'ren chuckled lightly, the first legitimate laugh he'd produced in their short conversation. "He really was...he ate everything in sight. It took me the better part of half a turn to gt him under control," he commented fondly. What he wouldn't give to ave those days back! How he envied Ronarth, who still seemed to live in those times...innocent and playful. Perhaps what was why Ronarth stayed young while D'ren grew old.

Perhaps Ronarth's youth was all that kept D'ren from getting even older.

"Thank you," he commented afterwards. He knew B'jin was protective of his own work and probably didn't hand out compliments lightly. "It's...rusty. I don't really have the time any more," he said. "Ronarth loves them, though. He always raves that they look like 'flat Ronarths'."

Outside, Ronarth rumbled and shifted about, positioning his eye outside the window so he could see inside. You're talking about me! he observed.

Yes Ronarth....We are. What would he do without that dopey dragon?

"I?" B'jin asked, his eyes widening dramatically as his face took on an affronted expression and his lips formed into a pout. "Never!" His expression mellowed into one of more placid happiness, one he was usually seen with, and he settled back in his chair cautiously, raising his mug to take a sip as D'ren spoke.

"I know," B'jin replied, his tone mellow. He brushed his free hand across his face, before turning startled eyes upon D'ren. Pleased delight flushed across his face, brown eyes wide with surprise as he searched D'ren's. Unable to articulate his pleasure at the bronzerider's simple statement, B'jin returned his focus to a fresh page, pencil flying across it.

B'jin, himself, had no desire to fight Thread, though both he and Larrikith would still be more than young enough to do so. His reasoning was completely selfish, for he had no desire to be scored by Thread. History notes said it was one of the most painful things to ever happen, and while B'jin was proud of his pain tolerance, he wasn't a fool. Thread was a horrible, nasty thing and though he would never say such a thing, to anyone, he hoped between would call to him before the horrible menace began falling from the skies. He wouldn't suicide, that would be cowardly. But he could hope for an easy, legitimate, way out.

"I'd like to help put the wings together, actually," B'jin said softly, tossing aside his dour thoughts and glancing up from his work, which was less a wing formation and more a birds eye view of a wing, his wandering mind feeding his hand subconsciously. B'jin glance down, frowned, and flicked the sheet over with an irritated expression.

Mixed emotions fluttered across B'jin's face at the mention of Allendris, settling on quiet pride. "He will do well," the greenrider murmured warmly, eyes loosing focus as he tapped his pencil against his nose. "He needs to loosen up a little though," B'jin added, throwing D'ren a devious sideways look.

The man was startled into laughter as D'ren spoke of Ronarth's opinion on his art work, the greenrider's eyes sparkling in amusement. "Larrikith's opinions vary," B'jin replied, rolling his eyes, "depending on the content and whether or not she can use it against me." His tone try, B'jin flicked the pencil across the page, frowning as he did so. Horrible dragon.

So B'jin wanted to help arrange wings? D'ren wasn't immediately sure how he felt about that. B'jin's judgement was generally sound but also prone to unexpected and highly irrational shifts, and D'ren didn't have time for that sort of unpredictability in his life. Then again, it would also be nice to have some input from a chromatic rider, specifically a rider of a small dragon. As fair as D'ren tried to be, it was often hard for bronze to see through the eyes of green or blue.

Honestly, D'ren wasn't sure why B'jin didn't just bask in it. The greenrider seemed awfully ambitious of late, while D'ren and Tsuen both craved leisure. The grass was always greener, he supposed.

"I'll think about that," he said to B'jin, giving his friend the most straightforward answer he could. He'd been having trouble with the wings already; everyone and their mother thought they had the best plan in the world. Only a handful of people even knew the wing formations were being reinstated, but already D'ren had more suggestions than he knew what to do with.

He chuckled a little bit at the subject of searchees. "You really did amazing, B'jin...a gold and a bronze," he said, shaking his head in wonderment. "It's a shame that Talian couldn't stand, though." He'd hoped the kid would be able to stand. Maybe that would cheer him up; D'ren couldn't get over how robotic and miserable the kid seemed the one time they'd spoken. The idea that candidates would rather kill themselves than live at Katila was gut wrenching and only made him feel worse about the decision to take them.

"I hear he's a sweet boy, but I'm worried bringing him here may have caused permanent damage." He hadn't broken it to B'jin yet, but he had no intention of ever letting the healer stand. It wasn't worth a betweened dragonet. His tone took on a bit more optimism a moment later. "I'm glad he's recovered, though. He was a life saver at the hatching, perhaps literally..."

He looked back at his drawings and realized he was flushing red. In spite of himself, he reached for a old, tattered folder nearby and slid it towards B'jin. "....There are a lot more in there," he said. "Most are Ronarth in various stages of growth, or his clutchmates..." he said. "It's...precious really. Ronarth didn't understand that every dragon I drew wasn't him, so he would try to correct me when I colored them...He would say 'I'm not blue!'"

Ah, to be young again!

B'jin nodded in silent acceptance of D'ren's words, his down turned gaze hiding the surprised delight he felt at the man's words. He hadn't really expected even that much, instead believing that D'ren would tell him a flat no. While B'jin didn't know that D'ren was being flooded with opinions and ideas, he could imagine that it would be so, and that it would only get worse when it was made public knowledge. Everyone would want to have their say, there would be those who were emotional about getting (or not getting) a rank or being placed with people they didn't like - or not with the people they did. B'jin's nose scrunched up at the implied headaches D'ren was going to get. But, if the Weyrleader could live with what was already being said about him, telling people to suck it up and cope with their assigned wings probably wouldn't be that much worse, if any worse at all.

The greenrider was still firmly convinced that he would be more use, than he would be in the way. While he wasn't as social as some of his fellows, he did know the vast majority of his fellow greenriders, and almost all the blueriders (a result of Larrikith's free flying routine). With the exception of D'ren, and those that the Weyrleader brought him into direct contact with, B'jin avoided the brown and bronzeriders. Considering most of them stuffy and less than interesting company was a firm decider for the generally cheerful man to enjoy the company of his colour mates. At least they knew how to have clean fun - not thrill in insubordination and punishments. B'jin's lips thinned.

"I told you Larri is an amazing Searcher," B'jin returned, his expression both warming and brightening as his brown eyes rose from where he'd been staring at the pad of paper to meet D'ren's green gaze. He didn't bother to tell the Weyrleader that both Allendris and Jada had been accidental finds; diamonds in the rough and he hadn't intended to actively Search anyone when Larrikith announced them. That would completely ruin the flair and his reputation! A slight frown pulled his eyebrows together and B'jin shifted forward, arm twisting behind his back to rub gently at an itching stitch.

"Talian," the name was more sigh than anything else, and B'jin shook his head. "Larri thinks green, for him, but I doubt he'll Impress, even if you held him before every dragonet to crack shell." He gave a dry, ironic little snort, and put his hand in his lap, settling back against the chair with absent caution. His back didn't hurt that bad, but it itched and he was becoming used to treating it delicately, particularly after being lectured by the wherry healer who fixed him up after Larri's flight.

"Very sweet," B'jin confirmed, his mind returning to his fostered son. "I don't think bringing him here did any damage that wouldn't have sprung up had he been left where he was," the greenrider mumbled, gaze losing focus as he thought back over things Talian had - and hadn't - said to him. "He was very unhappy. I think he will be alright, once he has a goal set for himself. He's floundering, and has nothing to aim at to get his feet back under himself." B'jin shook his head slightly. He could remember feeling lost like that.
"He is an amazing little healer, though." B'jin said warmly, pride wrapped around the tones as a small smile played across his lips. The kid didn't take nearly enough pride in himself and his work, but B'jin could list three of Talian's patients that were much better off for the young man's patience and gentle fingers than they would have been without him. His back was nothing, compared to Indivara's face or Farlint's knee, but he knew enough to know that if handled badly it could have been sewn in such a manner as to make all his movements ghastly or painful even once healed. He had complete faith that Talian had put him back together to cause minimal longterm pain. He had seen the girl's face from a distance, and didn't doubt she'd probably not be alive if not for his boy's quick mind and steady hands. The other candidate was as lucky; Katila wasn't the place for cripples, and the inability to send him home would have made his life long and painful.

B'jin's own face flushed with delight when D'ren interrupted his musings to offer him a folder, and the greenrider's eyes lit up in obvious joy as he carefully handled the item, turning pages with caution and respect. His smile was honest, teeth visible as he bit his bottom lip in amusement at some of the images. "These are amazing," he said warmly, spoiled only by the half giggle-half snort as he turned the page to look at another picture, eyes crinkling as his smile grew.

He continued looking through the folder in silence for a few more pages, and while his delight in being given the artwork to view didn't fade, the man's features mellowed out, obviously thinking carefully before opening his mouth. Contrary to what D'ren might believe, B'jin usually thought carefully before he said something. A fact that may or may not have been worrying to the Weyrleader where he to be privy to it. Believing the greenrider to be a spur of the moment man was probably why B'jin got away with so much, and was certainly not something he was going to correct D'ren on.

"I do have a request, though." He said finally, looking up with a slight frown. That, of course, was the easy part. The hard part was phrasing what he wanted so D'ren would hear him out instead of freaking or getting the wrong idea. B'jin chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I want, well, no, I need to go North." The brown eyes that caught and held D'ren's own were serious, though there was a lingering doubt behind them that indicated his expectation to be straight up denied. He had, after all, been a naughty boy and despite his various punishments, B'jin wasn't prepared to believe he would be allowed to go, especially with Searching on hold.

D'ren paused and chewed on the end of his quill for a moment, gaze temporarily glazing over as he tossed B'jin's words around in his head. "I suppose that's a common problem for the kids," he replied. "Feeling lost, I mean." He refused to use the terms 'northerners' or 'stolens'. The former implied otherness, when in fact the vast majority of Katilans were refugees from the north. The latter was unpleasant and cruel. To D'ren, they were just kids.

The attitude many of the young weyrbrats had actually rather annoyed the bronzerider. 'Katilan born' was born in exile and was nothing to hold over someone whose life had been taken from them. He'd already decided that he would knock the daylights out of his child if he ever caught him or her using such terms!

"I feel bad for them," he finally said, sighing a bit as he looked back to his work. In truth, Talian's attempted suicide had really upset the Weyrleader. The first dead runaways a couple turns before had upset him, too. D'ren wasn't entirely adaptable himself and could imagine feeling just as bad if he were the kidnapped one. "It's downright disgusting, B'jin...that some of them hate it here so much that they'd rather toss themselves to felines or kill themselves in their own rooms. It makes me want to pull my hair out," he grunted under his breath, not bothering to look B'jin in the eye.

An unfamiliar observer might have thought D'ren's annoyance was aimed towards the northerners, but in reality it was very much aimed at himself. He felt responsible for it. It was Tsuen's original idea, but he'd gone along with it and sent his riders to carry out the task. He wouldn't want the kids to blame Tsuen anyhow. The treatment most of them received from the local population didn't help, either. They should be welcomed and made to feel a part of the community, not scolded and advised to 'get over it'. That was the best way to assure that they never would.

Obviously.

The riders loved to throw that in the stolens' faces when they complained about their situation. 'We suffered before you did. More than you did', they would say. To D'ren, that was hypocritical and inexcusable. He was long over any self-pity regarding the plague. He'd lost family and friends in it, too. Everyone had, it was true. The riders were wronged by a dispassionate act of nature. These children were wronged by the conscious choice of thinking human beings.

Besides...the last thing he wanted was these children to feel alienated. After all, they were the next generation of dragonriders. D'ren hated it, but he felt like Katila was on an inevitable path to self-destruction. He had some ideas for how to correct it, or at least soften the blow...but he couldn't imagine it ending well for his generation. By the time the youngsters grew up and made it north, the plague survivors would be lucky if they weren't banished, or at the very least politically powerless.

Maybe that would be for the best. That way, the dragonriders who went north to face thread would be welcomed back as the generation of lost children on a heroic journey home....not the monsters who snatched those children to begin with. Maybe then the northerners would trust and support them.

D'ren? He's talking to you

D'ren snapped back to reality, realizing suddenly that he'd been staring wide-eyed at his parchment for some time, the most troubled expression etched on his aging face. He felt his shirt clinging to him with nervous sweat. "Faranth, I'm sorry about that B'jin," he murmured, sincerely embarrassed to have lapsed into what practically amounted to a waking nightmare.

He was slightly relieved to see that B'jin had busied himself looking through the drawings. "Thank you," D'ren replied, his tone mellow as he cooled down him his fretting. He glanced to the window, where Ronarth was looking inside expectantly.

I can go and try to cheer up the healer boy Ronarth suggested to both riders. D'ren sensed the sincerity and half-smiled, trying to at least look impressed for his dragon. "That won't be necessary," he said with a sigh. Ronarth cocked his head in curiosity and snorted, his hot breath misting up the window, but otherwise remained quiet. Just why that was a bad idea wasn't coming to him, but he decided not to pester his bonded with an answer for now.

D'ren just smiled, this time a bit more lively, and shook his head. "I had hoped Impressing a dragon would fix your boy," he commented, trying to get back to the original subject before he deviated any more. "But I don't think I can allow him to stand now, even if he does seem better by the time the next clutch arrives. He'll wind up like poor Wella did a couple turns back." Now that had been a tragedy. Outside, Ronarth grunted sadly at the memory of it. I still don't understand why they left...

Shhh, it's okay, boy

"If Larrikith thinks he'd Impress, I'm sure he eventually would. But I'm not going to have him anywhere near those eggs. Let's hope you're right about a goal..maybe once he feels less condemned, he'll start to function normally. Either way, it's good to have a competent surgeon around." He intended to let the matter rest at that. He knew B'jin was fond of the kid and he sincerely hoped B'jin didn't take the edict badly. It didn't look like it at least, not after B'jin's negative predictions about Talian's capacity to Impress.

His back straightened a bit when B'jin mentioned a request. This ought to be good. His brows furrowed in anxiety as B'jin declared his desire - no, his need to go north. D'ren wasn't happy, but he didn't jump to conclusions...perhaps out of fondness for B'jin and a feeling of obligation, or perhaps just because he was too tired to argue. "You need to?" he inquired patiently with skeptically. "Why?"

B'jin watched D'ren rant with a quiet gaze, his expression neither here nor there and his opinion remaining well away from alighting on his face. Larrikith was extremely selective in her choices of who was worth bringing back to Katila, and B'jin had a feeling she tended to do a lot of digging around in their minds before she said anything to him about a potential being around. Not that B'jin minded; after seeing fellow searchriders come out with bruises, broken bones, or bloodied scratches, the man was especially grateful to Larrikith's determination to bring only those that would be - in her opinion - perfect. He still wasn't sure why she had designed to choose Talian, but in all fairness, the boy had been worth his weight and then some since his arrival, even if there had been some erratic ups and downs along the way.

"Everyone has a sob story," B'jin murmured softly, gaze locked on the scattered sheets of paper on the table before them. "Comparing them doesn't help anyone, and doesn't change the facts. It just brings back sour memories." Glancing up at D'ren's apology and realising he probably hadn't heard a word of what B'jin had just said, the greenrider simply shook his head with a slight smile. He hadn't said anything all that important anyway, and his eyes were soft with amusement.

Ronarth's voice in his mind caused B'jin to jump, startled, and wide eyes arrowed in on the shiny dragon. His lips twisted slightly as D'ren beat him to answering and his expression was somewhere between horrified that Ronarth would decide to talk to Talian anyway, and relief that D'ren had head the great beast off before he could do more than mention it. Well, he hoped he hadn't done more than mention it. That was all Talian needed. Another dragon in his head! Raising a hand, B'jin rubbed it over his face, dropping it and looking at D'ren with a slightly raised eyebrow as the man spoke.

"He will be thrilled," B'jin said softly, his expression almost comical in the warring emotions is sported. Relief was paramount, tinged with disappointment and worry. Talian would never relax, of course, and he'd always run the risk of Stands Impressing if he even looked sideways at a Hatching, but the boy would be thrilled to hear he was exempt from all dragon based lessons and expectations. As he thought about it, however, B'jin's face twisted into a worried frown. Not at Talian or his reaction, but at how fellow Candidates would take the news.

"If the other kids hear he got out of Standing by trying to suicide, we're going to end up with a pact happening." He said carefully, murky brown eyes shifting to capture D'ren's with frank seriousness. It was a worrying thought to the greenrider, who shifted uncomfortably. He'd been incredibly unhappy in his own unorthodox bond in the beginning, and he could honestly understand where some of the kids, forced into a candidacy they didn't want, were coming from. Some of the dragon choices surprised him, too, when there were Katilan's on the sands practically begging to be bonded to.

"Yes," B'jin returned, pushing away the folder of drawings delicately and folding his hands together on the table, fingers entwined. He frowned down at them. He had no doubt that D'ren would not be particularly appreciative of what he had to say. "When I brought Allendris in, I left my things behind." He wasn't about to tell D'ren he'd been drunk, or that the also drunk kid had almost spotted Larrikith (who was probably the only sober creature for several miles in every direction). "In particular, a guitar I'm especially fond of." Eyebrows furrowed. It was a delicate piece of art that Nemall had made for him during their years between fleeing the plague and forming Katila. He still couldn't believe he'd left it at the Hold in favour of stealing the kid away. As gorgeous as he found Allendris, it simply didn't justify his beloved guitar. His lips pursed. "It needn't be I that collects it, but I would really like it back. I was under the name 'Namor'."

So, that was the easy part, and when push came to shove, as much as B'jin loved his guitar that request wasn't the one he really wanted to voice. The other was important though, and B'jin really couldn't afford for D'ren to say no. Yet, it was the only answer he expected to get. Fidgeting nervously, B'jin waited to see how his current would be taken, before he'd voice the next. After all, sometimes it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

"And yet, that's what half the Weyr does to the poor kids," he grumbled. If anyone needed to be mature about it, it was the dragonriders. Of course, D'ren tended to keep his bitterness to himself, but it was hard when he found himself alone with a chatty, personable greenrider like B'jin. D'ren knew he trusted B'jin more than he probably should, but much of that trust had been tarnished in the recent incident.

He listened intently and with mild tension as B'jin responded to the edict. "Yeah, that is a problem," the bronzerider conceded. "Of course, most of the candidates are pretty eager to Impress once they realize they aren't going home...it's all they really have to look forward to. They lose everything for a chance at a dragon. With that in mind, I don't know if copycats will be too big of a problem," he reasoned. He was unsure, though. "I'll have to think about it a little more."

He didn't like it, but he figured the soundest strategy would be to lie about why Tal wasn't standing. D'ren already knew B'jin would fly into an indignant fit if the Weyr was told that Larrikith had made a mistake. The Weyrleader wasn't pleased with the idea of being dishonest, either. Still, it remained a valid option, one that would go unspoken for now.

"Another option is to punish him for trying to commit suicide by placing him under Weyr arrest, and claim he's not standing as a result," he mused half-seriously. "If it comes with a penalty that great the others will be dissuaded." He didn't want to terrorize the boy any more than he already had, but this was a serious matter. "To be honest, B'jin, I don't know how we made it this long without a suicide."

The words were rigid, his disturbed tone forcibly squashed. He had already resolved once to stop looking so soft and weak to his riders. He couldn't imagine successfully hiding his true colors from B'jin, though. Instead of continuing, he just sighed. He hated to think it, but he almost wondered if the boy would have been better off not making it.

"We'll figure something out. As of right now, though, he's on suicide watch and isn't considered a candidate anymore. Perhaps I'll ask Larrikith to evaluate him again later."

He listened patiently to B'jin's little sales pitch. D'ren's nature was tugging him in two directions now, one side completely inclined to trust anything he was told, the other extremely unforgiving of B'jin's bad behavior. D'ren wasn't holding it against B'jin in a personal way, but he wasn't inclined to give second chances.

He knew sharding well he let B'jin get away with a lot. He also knew B'jin had taken advantage of it, and likely would again. It was a conundrum. "Very well," he said, rocking back in his chair. "I'll send someone along to fetch it soon, then. Is there anyone in particular you would prefer?"

He had no idea B'jin was entertaining another plan as well, though he probably should have suspected it.

B'jin didn't have much to add on D'ren's grumblings. While he wasn't one to go out ringing his own bell about how terrible life had been to him, B'jin was aware that he'd snapped at his fair share of people for bitching and whining - including but not limited to Talian. But, as he had said to the Weyrleader moments before, everyone has their own personal horror story and depending on who it was speaking, B'jin was unlikely to care about what had happened and even less likely to sympathise or share in return. It wasn't that the greenrider disliked talking about himself or his past - he figured he had enough years to have some fun stories up his sleeve and enjoyed entertaining those that quizzed him about his life. But he wasn't about to sit around and bring company crashing to the ground like a wingless dragon so they could see just who had had it the roughest. He'd much rather tell a tale designed to evoke laughter.

B'jin nodded slightly as D'ren continued, his face taking on a thoughtful expression as he considered what he'd been offered. Talian's was certainly a case alone. "Just be careful whom you assign as his guardian," B'jin said with a delicate frown. "He's very distrustful, and he greatly dislikes dragons." He paused. "Or maybe just Larri," he amended with a slight shrug. He hadn't really been around the young master when other dragons were involved to really offer any more opinion up on the matter than that concerning the young man's reservations.

While B'jin would, indeed, be incredibly unimpressed and more than a little disgusted and even angry about such a coverstory to explain Talian's lack of being allowed to Stand, who D'ren should really have been worried about reacting to such a thing was Larrikith. Proud, and incredibly picky with those that she Chose, the tiny green would not take such an edict well, no matter how sound the reasoning behind it. The green dragon simply didn't make mistakes like that. Ever. Thank you very much indeed!

B'jin hummed in agreement before speaking lowly. "We got lucky." He replied frankly. If there was another explanation for it, B'jin didn't know what it was. "Luck runs out." There was only so many children you could spirit away before you were going to hit the landmines. That it had taken them almost four years to hit one was pretty astounding, when one actually thought about it. "We've brought in, what, one hundred and fifty children?" B'jin asked, running through the figures roughly. Of those young people, B'jin could claim exactly seven. He wondered, briefly, if he should be pleased or ashamed of that.

B'jin's face lit up at D'ren's answer, eyes bright and a smile quickly wove itself across his lips. "Thanks!" He wasn't playing it up, his delight was genuine and he probably wouldn't have been able to hide it if he'd wanted to, though he saw no point in doing so at any rate. "Ahh," the greenrider was startled by that and his eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. "So long as they don't ruin it, I don't really mind." The word ruin was ground out in a manner that indicated their would be great deals of pain and punishment if someone damaged his precious instrument. As much as B'jin loved the guitar, he would rather leave it at the Hold indefinitely than risk some dimglowed idiot damaging it in transit.

"You won't like it," B'jin said suddenly, after a lengthy but not completely uncomfortable silence. A hand rose to brush his hair back from his forehead, and he frowned slightly. It was getting sharding long and starting to be more irritating than not. Well, if R'nd fancied it long so much, he could maintain it or hack it all off for him. Either way, B'jin decided, something was going to be done about the blonde locks within the next few days (if not hours) before it drove him nutty. "I made Talian a promise, which I would like to uphold." His voice betrayed none of his irritation at his hair, but rather, a frankness as he indicated he quite obviously expected to receive a no - and that he would fight valiantly to get D'ren to give him the yes he required.

D'ren rubbed his temples for a moment. "I'm going to let him be for now," he said, tone mellowing out in the tender way it often did when kids were concerned. He was a general bleeding heart for children, especially children who needed help. Now, the stolens weren't exactly kids anymore, but they were still young people under his command, and for the most part more dependent than they'd all want to admit. That was more than enough for D'ren to feel horribly responsible for their unhappiness.

"I don't want to terrorize him. And you're right about dragons, I believe. He didn't react very well to Ronarth speaking to him." There was a flatness in his words, and the expression on his face practically said 'imagine that?'. "For now, we'll leave him alone and see how he recovers. I imagine actually placing him under arrest will only make him feel more alienated. I can trust you to at least keep an eye on him though, I assume? He couldn't have a more attentive parent to keep watch over him."

He smiled a little bit, then let the topic slip away without any further comment. Seeing B'jin's face light up at the good news was uplifting, but it was quickly dampened by the sudden amendment B'jin made to his request. D'ren frowned a little.

"A promise? And I take it that promise has to do with something in the north?" he asked. He wasn't wild about B'jin going north at all, and he could already see the indignation and stubbornness starting to boil up in the greenrider. If B'jin wanted to fight, D'ren was more than willing to fight him...but shards, he sure didn't want to. Not after the last incident. Not when emotions were still running so high.

"...Elaborate," he said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully as he listened. This had better be good.

Ronarth's nose continued to linger outside. He pushed it against the window and snorted, once again misting it up.[span style="background-color:#777733;"]

B'jin let the topic of Talian slide away without any further comment, a simple lift of his eyebrows and a slight smile being the only indication he had been listening when D'ren complimented his parenting skills. B'jin had ruined the child's life in one foul swoop, and while he hadn't consciously realised it, he was already determined to make it up to Talian in any and every way he could. The fact that the young healer wasn't about to make demands of him, and would likely feel guilty by such actions only fed the subconscious desire; the boy wouldn't take advantage of B'jin's carefully hidden guilt, or his very honest love of the child.

"Yes," B'jin replied softly, slowly turning to look at D'ren directly. His brown eyes were serious and without any hint of laughter or amusement within. B'jin normally wasn't one for promises. They had a tendency to be made in the heat of a moment, and forgotten about later. Not even broken, perse, so much as simply forgotten. But, some things were best remembered and B'jin had no intention of letting his little Healer down when he'd made the kid his promise.

"Tal's worried about a girl he left behind." He paused for a moment, before continuing, "she may be pregnant, and they were meant to wed. He just wants to know she's okay." Another pause, and B'jin's features hardened slightly as he caught and held D'ren's eyes once more. "He does not want her here." Getting permission would be hard enough, without the Weyrleader freaking out and thinking B'jin was going to be bringing a very pregnant girl along to the Weyr; particularly one that was so strongly connected to the young Master Healer he'd stolen seven months ago.

His own eyes narrowed thoughtfully, B'jin waited, watching D'ren's expression with care.

D'ren frowned. It wasn't his usual frustrated, I'm-trying-to-think frown, but rather a legitimately dejected one. "B'jin," he said, pausing for a moment to give the greenrider - his friend - a sad  shake of the head. "I can't let you do that."

Had B'jin thought that out at all? Probably not...B'jin was spirited and spontaneous, and his request was probably straight from the heart. B'jin loved that kid. He loved him and wanted to set things right, that stood to reason. D'ren could imagine feeling quite the same. He knew he was ultimately responsible for all the poor misplaced stolens, but he didn't have to look at any of them directly in the fact and know that he was the one who plucked that particular child from their life and family.

B'jin did, though. Normally B'jin seemed so proud to be a searchrider, but it had it's dark sides too.

"I'm sorry, but we need to stay away from that kid's family, his girl included," he said, tone heavy with regret. He felt inclined to apologize, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. "I know taking him away was hurtful to him, but it's the same for all of them, B'jin. My heart goes out to him, but if we did it for him, we'd have to do it for all of them." He wasn't oblivious to the fact that such things had been done before, both with and without approval, but he thought this particular one was just too risky.

"I know he must miss her, but he's going to have to let go." It made logical sense, but D'ren also understood the power of closure. He imagined a bit of closure would be amazingly beneficial to most of the stolen candidates, but how could he give it to them without too much risk? They deserved it, but they deserved a lot of things they couldn't have.

Once again, he wanted to be sick.

B'jin was a proud Searchrider, and while he rarely wore his knots to indicate he was such - doing so tended to spark up responses in the young men and women that B'jin didn't desire, and he saw no reason to surround himself with the negativity that would result in, when he could not wear them, and be ignored or greeted without the title 'Thief' shoved on him. The greenrider was proud of his dragon, and proud of their abilities to seek out candidates. With a claim on only seven young people, B'jin was only personally accused by seven and while they were not all happy to be at Katila, Larrikith had searched them out well. None of them would ever attack him and while he got his share of name calling, B'jin was happy to acknowledge that he was closer friends with his little circle of Northern kids, than many of his fellows could claim. That two of those then designed to Impress a bronze and a gold did nothing but confirm his opinion. It was better to be fussy, and sure, than to just grab anyone (which he was pretty sure happened as often as not).

Talian had probably been the pairs biggest mistake, with B'jin being as fussy as his dragon in objecting to taking the girl they had originally eyed off (only to have her end up in the southern Weyr anyway!) Talian had been a last ditch attempt to grab someone before coming home. B'jin still wasn't sure why Larrikith had opted to grab the boy rather than simply return empty handed - something they were so well known to do. B'jin hadn't ended up objecting that badly, in the end. The boy had seemed like a good choice at the time; relatively nondescript without an air about him and no major knots on his shoulder. Always busy, but without seeming to be a socialite. B'jin had agreed, and the boy had wound up at Katila.

Even if he hadn't promised him, B'jin owed it to Talian to find out what had happened to his fiance. As D'ren spoke, B'jin's face set into an expression of anger, the corners of his eyes tightening and jaw locking. He waited, as D'ren finished speaking, and carefully ordered his thoughts. It wouldn't do to snap out without thinking at least a little before he spoke. The anger still burning in B'jin's eyes spoke volumes all their own however, as the man leaned forward on to the table and frowned at D'ren.

"You think," he said lowly, "I would put Katila at risk?" The greenrider's expression twisted into an expression of deep disappointment, the fire in his eyes burning out as fast as it had flared up. He had thought better of D'ren, thought the Weyrleader had thought better of him. Leaning back into his seat, B'jin paused for a moment, his face blank, before standing up fluidly and returning his chair to where it belonged. He didn't look at or say a word to D'ren as he moved back to the table and picked up his mostly undrunk mug of klah and carried it to the kitchen sink. He placed it carefully on the bench and stood there for several long moments, just staring dejectedly into the sink.

Turning, B'jin walked quietly back to D'ren, and stared at a spot just over the man's left shoulder. "If that's all, Weyrleader, I have chores to attend to." His voice was soft, almost meek. To be told no was one thing and something B'jin could handle with ease - many of his requests were told no. But to have the Weyrleader insinuate that B'jin was a risk to the Weyr? The greenrider was crushed, and desired very strongly an escape before his hurt became readable.

D'ren frowned yet again. As much as he liked B'jin, the greenrider seemed to invoke his reaction in D'ren an awful lot. Ronarth was uncomfortably aware, rustling outside and producing low grumbles and snorts crept into the hut under the slightly-open windowsill.

"Don't be that way," D'ren said simply, shaking his head and looking back to his work. He absolutely hated when people felt the need to stir drama out of nothing. He didn't take kindly to having his words twisted, and that's precisely what he felt B'jin was doing in those tense seconds, whether he was aware of it or not.

"You know perfectly well that I trust you. The fact that I allowed you to search again after taking Talian should be proof enough," he commented simply as he organized his papers and searched for his quill, which had been laid down a few minutes before and had disappeared into the mess. "I don't believe for a moment that you would intentionally endanger Katila. You've performed well as a searchrider and have always been discreet..."

He finally looked at B'jin, his expression kind but ultimately very serious. "But B'jin. You've done this sort of thing enough to know that an expedition like this is too risky. I know you care for your boy and want him to be happy, but we just can't risk it," he said, his tone gradually softening and taking on a more personal slant. He hated to see B'jin upset, but what else could he say? He wasn't going to sit there and groom B'jin's ego any more than he already had, though everything he'd said had been true. B'jin was one of his favorites...shards, almost perfect.

Ronarth snorted and peeled away from the window. He wanted badly to comment, but he remembered B'jin's scathing words from the previous argument vividly enough. B'jin had done the one thing Ronarth could not bear; implied that he was stupid. In the back of his mind, Ronarth knew he was stupid. But he tried so hard! Why, then, were his efforts met only with judgement? The bronze huffed in indecision and hung his head miserably, completely disrupted by the unpleasant feelings buzzing around his bonded's head.

D'ren hated being the bad guy. It wore on him day and night, especially in light of his more recent edicts, almost all of which had been unpopular. Ronarth didn't understand them, but he did know that D'ren thought them for the best. Why couldn't the weyrfolk trust him? Did they think they could do a better job?Oh, how badly Ronarth wished he could just pluck his bonded up and take them away from everything.

Well, he could, but there was only one way that ended...

D'ren's sympathetic expression melted into mild horror as he realized the kinds of thoughts his dragon was  entertaining. They were fleeting anf dramatic, like the musings of an angry teenager, but they were very much real. The bronzerider looked at the window, face shadowed with horror and perhaps a bit of hurt. Ronarth....no... he said sadly, trying to reassure the delicate dragon as he puzzled over that strange, seemingly random spot of blackness.

Ronarth was a happy being. He wouldn't be thinking like that without a reason. D'ren immediately knew in his gut that it couldn't have some from Ronarth...it must have been from him. He was far from suicidal, but Ronarth clearly sensed the ever-deepening stress his rider felt, the desire for escape.

D'ren swallowed hard. "B'jin, I think I need a break," he said, pushing his paperwork away. He was visibly rattled, but he got his emotions under control within a few seconds. "I think I'm going to have a drink. Would you care to join me?" He tried to keep the discomfort out of his voice, and he did a good job of it - almost perfect.

Contrary to D'ren's apparent line of thought, B'jin wasn't purposefully twisting his words or trying to stir up drama. He was genuinely hurt by what he had believed D'ren to be implying. The apparent exasperation he picked up in D'ren's frown and dismissive words did little to sooth B'jin's ruffled feathers and his eyes shifted without malice to stare at D'ren in confused hurt. He wasn't pouting, but his expression was genuine in his unhappiness.

Blonde eyebrows drew together above B'jin's eyes as he frowned at the bronzerider, taking in the words he spoke with a seriousness that was an odd characteristic for the man to display so blatantly. B'jin could be serious, very serious, but being serious was rarely any fun and when it came right down to it, B'jin was a fun loving spirit. He enjoyed pressing buttons, teasing friends, and having a good time. It didn't mean he was incapable of shutting up and listening, or thinking before he spoke. B'jin was spontaneous and fickle, but he was also intelligent and spent enough of his time around children to know that being able to settle down for a moment had its merits. Simple fact of the matter was that he didn't like to be serious, because it was boring.

B'jin chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully as D'ren finished speaking and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. The greenrider knew his Weyrleader favoured him, and had done so since almost the beginning from what B'jin could recall. He knew the Weyrleader trusted him, for he told the greenrider things he probably shouldn't always voice and B'jin wasn't naive enough to think he was charismatic enough to win the man over with a smile and a bat of his brown eyes. D'ren wasn't like that, so if he told him something, it was because he knew the harper wasn't going to gossip it or because he wanted the man's opinion.

"Okay," B'jin said softly, though what it was he was agreeing to was lost in the silence that had surrounded the two men since D'ren finished his statements. The searchrider ran a hand over his face, and back through his hair. As he revealed his features once more, they were light with a generally placid expression as he pushed aside his hurt feelings. He had still been intent on leaving, for he actually did have chores to attend to and a lesson to teach that afternoon in the Hall. D'ren's sudden change in attitude and topic startled the younger dragonrider, however, and he didn't bother to hide that expression as it warped his face into wide eyes.

Larri? Where are you love? Sleeping, B'jin. Go away. Fine. Sighing mentally, B'jin turned his gaze on his Weyrleader, eyebrows furrowing once more as he carefully considered the words that had been uttered. B'jin wasn't much of a drinker, and he had a feeling D'ren wasn't talking about kahl or fruit juice. Deciding he'd just get Larrikith to reschedule his class or have her get someone in to teach it if he wasn't sober by early afternoon, B'jin's lips twisted into a small, dry smile.

"Sure."

D'ren frowned, realizing a bit slowly that he probably actually had hurt B'jin's feelings. The bonrzerider found it a bit silly, but he did immediately feel bad about it. He reached out as he stood and clapped B'jin lightly on the arm once (careful to avoid the back), a subtle gesture of reassurance, before walking past and heading into his kitchen. He had a nice bottle of wine he'd kept tucked away for a couple months now. He decided now was as good a time as any to open it, in spite of the hour.

...Okay, so maybe there were some reservations. He actually grimaced at himself as he realized he was drinking before noon.  He paused mid-walk and suddenly made up his mind not to do it, but Ronarth intervened. No the bronze said lightly, You should. It will make you feel better. The dragon's words dripped with desperate guilt. RI upset you...I didn't mean to upset you. You deserve to feel better.

D'ren frowned. Ronarth, he said, Do we need to talk about this? He searched his candid bronze's  mind for any clues, but he was no search dragon. Ronarth was quite the open book though, projecting his distress so tangibly that perhaps even B'jin could feel it pulsing lightly through the walls.

No Ronarth insisted. He didn't want to burden his bonded any more than he already had. He let out a whine, causing  D'ren to flinch a bit. He picked up his wine bottle and a pair of glasses and sighed. It was practically lunchtime anyhow. He went ahead and uncorked the bottle.

He lingered in the kitchen for a moment and closed his eyes, thinking hard in Ronarth's direction in an effort to calm the beast. Please, pet. You haven't upset me. I do worry about you, but you are never a burden to me. You understand that, right? he inquired rhetorically. Ronarth chirped, or produced a sound that resembled a chip when he was young but had sense developed into a deeper, more aggressive sound, and settled. As nervous as Ronarth could be, he was also easily calmed.

Do you promise?

D'ren sighed lightly. It was a great relief to feel Ronarth's mood improving. Of course I do. You're a joy to me...especially because you're always so happy. You always know just what to say to me, you know that? Though in this case, it was D'ren who knew just what to say to Ronarth.

The dragon rumbled instant approval. I'm sorry I worry about you so much. Do I make you worry more by worrying? I guess that's bad, isn't it?

Please don't say things like that

Okay!

Somewhat dazed but also rather refreshed by their conversation, D'ren returned to B'jin's side. "'Sorry about that," he whispered softly, placing the glasses down and pouring B'jin's glass first. D'ren may have been Weyrleader, but at the moment he felt more like a host. S'kef would have had a heart attack, and though at the moment, that image was a soothingly humorous one.

"Ronarth needed a bit of consoling. You know how he can be." He spoke in a way that any rider with a difficult dragon - no matter what kind of difficulty they presented - would instantly recognize. D'ren could tell that lingering concerns lurked on the outskirts of his dragon's wildly erratic consciousness. The bronzerider resolved to set aside time later that evening and talk to Ronarth. Perhaps they could go flying or something...somewhere alone, where the poor beast could enjoy some recreational time and they could commune properly.

For now, Ronarth was happily rolling in the dirt outside. His attention span was mercifully short. D'ren smiled a bit at the trickles of joy coming from the beast and was happy to accept them into his own mood. "I hope this will be to your liking, B'jin. It's a bit strong, but I've never known you to back down from a challenge," he said, holding the glass up for a little toast.

---

We can probably wrap this one up soon, unless you have something else for them to talk about

B'jin was frowning slightly in the general direction Ronarth was located in. while Larrikith was undoubtedly an amazing Search dragon and had proven her weight and then some over the turns with those she chose to bring in, B'jin was the complete opposite. As a younger boy, and in his early teenage years, Benjinamor had been shoved into Search line ups, to stand anxiously as dragons thrust their noses through the group and sniffed - for lack of any other term he could find - out those that were likely to Impress. None had ever so much as glanced at the boy, not until that day Larrikith chose him. B'jin was about as responsive to the emotions of other dragons as a rock. He wasn't, however, deaf.

"It's fine," B'jin murmured slowly in response, the frown still drawing his brows together as the greenrider accepted the glass D'ren offered him. "Thank you," he added quietly before arching a brow and his expression morphed into one of amusement at D'ren commented on his bronze. B'jin gave a snort, tossing a playful wink at the Weyrleader before examining the wine through his glass. "I'll trade you," he teased good-naturedly, eyes brightening in amusement at the idea of D'ren on green - on Larrikith - though he couldn't imagine himself in D'ren's shoes and had no desire to try them on. Weyrleader indeed. He was more than happy to lend a hand where he could, but the only spotlight he was interested in was the one focused on the Harper stage.

"Where's it from?" B'jin asked curiously as he lifted his glass up in toast, wondering if he needed to prepare himself for the bite of a Katilan brew, or something Northern. He couldn't imagine D'ren housing Katilan wine; but then D'ren did some odd things. "I should think not!" B'jin replied cheerfully, lifting the glass to his lips with bright eyes.

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[sup]Not off the top of my head, love. But I am very amused by the image of S'kef dropping by and finding them both roaring drunk at lunchtime. Haha.[/sup]

D'ren really didn't understand B'jin sometimes. The mood swings, the delicate pride...they were all very puzzling. He accepted the greenrider nonetheless, happy to have someone cheerful and carefree in his weyr, especially someone like B'jin who could muscle up and be serious when he had to.

Someone who understood, if only second-hand, why things had to be the way they were.

Having recently made so many enemies, it was nice to find someone who remained a friend.

The bronzerider laughed a bit as he took his first sip. "Not by a long shot. Benden!" he said. "It was a gift some months ago. I've been saving it," he replied. He highly doubted the giver of said gift would find this an appropriate occasion, but shards to them. D'ren was stressed, but highly relieved to find that B'jin hadn't abandoned him, too...in spite of everything.

That was more than worth it.

He sipped again. "So," he said, shifting the topic away from politics. "Tsuen is due in spring." He couldn't hide the bright expression creeping on to his face.

Outside, Ronarth produced a trilling sound to mirror his bonded's happy mood. Perhaps that was why D'ren could endure B'jin's mood swings; Ronarth had them, too!

B'jin was casually at ease, and completely ignorant of his swinging moods. If it had been brought to his attention, B'jin likely would have asked what the other expected of him; his dragon had flown barley a handful of hours previously, badly, and he was still coming down off the rampaging hormones she had shared. Besides which, B'jin's mood was rarely level the past few weeks, as he struggled with the various aspects of his topsy-turvy life.

B'jin took a sip of the wine, enjoying the taste of quality - something Katilan wine was a long shot from ever being - and gave a snort of amusement at D'ren's admittance to saving the brew. He didn't question why his leader had broken the seal, or why he was sharing it with himself. B'jin was not the type to believe D'ren might be surprised that he was there, or that he wasn't holding a grudge against the man. When he wanted to, B'jin could see the world in a very base manner of black and white. D'ren had been required to do something he hadn't wanted to. B'jin might not agree with how many lashes he'd been given or who had done said lashing, but he wasn't so dim witted as to think D'ren had enjoyed it or would rush in to do so again. B'jin had some idea of how his Weyrleader's mind worked and while the man was in power, the greenrider was pretty sure he wouldn't have to really worry about another lashing. The bronzerider was learning to be harsher, but he wasn't cruel.

B'jin would just remember not to press all those buttons at the same time. Just... one or two, occasionally. He liked to know where people's lines were drawn and what buttons made them tick. Now that he had a fairly good idea of how to make D'ren explode, he was more comfortable to sit back, relax, and poke fun at the man just enough to annoy him, possibly anger him, but not end up on his knees in the gather square again. B'jin liked knowing where his boundaries were; he just liked to go leaping and bounding over them before he would obey them.

A crooked grin formed on the man's lips as D'ren changed the subject, brown eyes lighting up with amusement at his words. B'jin was pretty sure D'ren didn't have any children, and since he was pretty sure the man was about as prudish as his own reputation, B'jin was also sure Tusen was the only one he slept with; he had it easier in that regard, of course. He could choose whom his dragon invested a chase in (which was partly why B'jin was still mortified whenever he remembered seeing D'ren, eyes lusty, standing before him. Thank Faranth for Ayyonth! A subtle shudder whispered down B'jin's spine like a cold breeze but he shook it off, and picked up the topic D'ren had offered.

"How is she doing?" B'jin asked, genuinely interested. While Tsuen was hardly old by dragonrider standards, she was still on the far end of the scale when it came to bearing children. Besides that, however, B'jin enjoyed the golderider's company and the idea of having a child with her obviously thrilled D'ren. How could he not be both curious about and happy for them? "Counting down the days?" He added, teasingly, as he winked at D'ren and took another sip from his wine glass. B'jin himself enjoyed his two young brats, though his relationship with them was generally split parenting that had become somewhat rarer, particularly after his lashing. Both women were kind enough to keep the children with them for the most part, though B'jin enjoyed it when the young brats came to spend time with him, and both had shown restraint once they'd realised just how messed up daddy's back was. R'nd was still extremely timid around them and Larrikith had take to warning him if they were around, but B'jin adored the little brats.

"Names?" He asked lightly, raising his eyebrows curiously.

"Indeed," D'ren said smoothly as he took another sip. He nagged himself as he did so, reminding himself that it was midday and he had a mountain of work to do. This was the wrong choice. But he also reminded himself that if he didn't get a little bit of relaxation in soon, he was likely to have a heart attack, as the healers had so kindly pointed out to him. He was reminded at every visit how his habits were aging him prematurely, but most of the time he was too busy to be bothered with listening to them. Funny how that worked...

"We actually haven't discussed names yet," he commented as he took another long sip. The wine was so smooth and dry. It really was a delight, though perhaps a cold white would have been better on a day like this. "I'll probably let her name it. She's the one doing all the work right now," he commented lightly, his tone tinged with the normal chivalrous respect it carried for women. Some didn't appreciate it, but Tsuen was a real lady. He smiled fondly and took yet another drink.

"I am looking forward to it, though. I just hope I'll have enough time to spend with it as it grows up." There wasn;t exactly bitterness in his voice, but instead wistfulness. He couldn't spare the free afternoons that other riders could, though that was something eventual retirement would offer him. Not that he had any plans to retire anytime soon.

"Ronarth is excited, too," he added, sinking into a familiar pattern of friendly conversation.  He was quite pleasant and chatty when he didn't have work on his mind. Work was just...tenacious and hard to fend off. "He loves children..."

B'jin smiled slightly as D'ren admitted to not yet being on the rank of looking into names. He couldn't really blame the man; B'jin had had very little to do with the names that had been chosen for his own children. He was reg lucky enough to have had the women involved decide to incorporate his own name into those of his children; but he wasn't about to bring that up. He had no doubt that Tsuen would select a name that would be perfectly suitable to the child the Weyrleaders would share. B'jin was almost sad that it had taken so long for them to produce said child; They had been Weyrmated for several turns, after all. But, better late than never, and the greenrider was more than thrilled that D'ren was obviously so well pleased with the situation.

Not all riders were quite so cheerful when a woman approached them with such news. Himself included, though he hadn't been a rider during the time in question. Raising a child with the woman probably would have been easier than the life he'd ended up with, but that was neither here nor there, B'jin decided, tossing those memories away forcefully before they showed on his face or tarnished his fairly good mood.

"I'm sure everything will work out," B'jin said easily, pretty confident in his words even as he shrugged slightly and took a sip of the wine himself. He knew D'ren and he highly doubted that a man so obviously excited about a pending baby would allow anything to get in the way of his spending time with the child. "Just delegate more onto your assistants," he said, "that is, after all, what they are for, is it not?" B'jin grinned, amused and threw the Weyrleader a cheerful wink. One man couldn't run the whole Weyr after all, just as one queen could not repopulate it. That was why baby golds were born, and why Weyrseconds were appointed (even if the current choice was worse than Threadfall without a dragon in the middle of the desert. But that was something else B'jin went out of his way to keep to himself). D'ren just needed to make sure his team was well structured when Tsuen was due to birth their baby, and capable of running the Weyr without his constant breathing down their necks so D'ren could enjoy spending time with his 'mate and their child.

"Larri loves kids." B'jin put in when D'ren 's voice idled away and the greenrider smirked , deeply amused. "Of course, only the ones she can torment. The ones that cry don't please her nearly as much." He chuckled to himself. "My two are good. She takes them flying, sometimes. Indamor will be a good rider, someday." While that was said with obvious pride, there was also the soft tone of careful consideration mingled within it. B'jin wasn't just saying his boy would be a good rider because h wanted  him to be; he was saying it because h e would be. That said and done, B'jin wasn't really sure he wanted his little girl anywhere near a dragon, though like all Weyrbrats, he expected he'd have a hard time keeping her away.

She was too much like her lost aunt. He wasn't sure he could live through that twice.

"That's the plan," he replied, speaking of delegation. He was pretty sure he could trust S'kef to run the entire Weyr if he really needed to. Tsuen, of course, would need to find a steady helper while she took maternity leave - and if D'ren had his way, she certainly would take maternity leave! He imagined she wouldn't want to, but it made  D'ren sick top think of her overworking herself right after the birth of their child. At least they'd have the best healers around to keep her safe; between the dedicated midwife and the master, D'ren was certain no harm would actually come to Tsuen.

Certain, and yet he managed to worry about it nonetheless.

He finished off his glass and poured another. "I'm surprised by that, really. Larrikith is not the most patient dragon I've known," he said, his tone tinged with the same confused affection he felt for B'jin. Larrikith was a handful, but she was likable in her own way. She reminded D'ren of that greenrider spirit he found so charming.  "That's good, though. It would be unfortunate if they didn't get along."

He envied B'jin's family. Like many things, though, that was something the bronzerider had long accepted wouldn't be part of his life. Until recently!

It put him in a positively happy mood. Within another fifteen minutes, he was suitably tipsy. He gabbed eagerly with B'jin about all manner of things, from children to gossip and everything in between. D'ren was content to let B'jin do 70% of the talking, and Ronarth another 10, for the dragon frequently chimed in, his grudge against B'jin gradually forgotten thanks to his bonded's good mood.

Things changed suddenly when leathery wingbeats were heard outside. Ronarth was displeased.

Oh, no! he projected to both men. Tyrrisath!


Be quiet, half-wit a calm and intolerably snide voice said to Ronarth, also brushing the very edges of B'jin's mind but passing right over the Weyrleader. Tyrrisath bespoke very few humans. His contact with B'jin could be counted on one hand. He was also typically polite and poised, but his passive insult was, in this case, calculated.

Ronarth quickly became so upset that his indignation distracted D'ren, who was already befuddled from drink. "Ronarth?!"

The door opened. 

B'jin had nothing against the flow of conversation, or the flow of good wine, and babbled happily with the bronzerider, his attitude relaxing substantially as he drank and they spoke of everything possible under the sun without crossing into any of the lanes that contained out of bound subjects or things liable to upset the easy peace that had developed between them. B'jin was content, and he very much enjoyed the lazy conversations and the way his Weyrleader was breaking down walls with little more than a few too many glasses of good Benden wine. The greenrider was curious about from whom he had received the gift, but dared not question his good fortune in being the one with which the seal was broken. Questioning the why of things tended to get it messy, and B'jin liked that not.

Ronarth's voice touching on his mind caused him some surprise, but B'jin was warm and fuzzy from the alcohol; far from drunk but suitably relaxed and happy that he was not surprised the bronze so easily bespoke him. He carefully resealed the wall around those thoughts which were not for anyone, even Larrikith, while also frowning as the words the bronze had spoken registered. Tyrrisath? As if in answer, the brown's voice touched over his mind and B'jin shuddered even as he threw up walls around his mind. It was bad enough, having to talk to S'kef on a far too regular basis, without the disgusting brown lump tarnishing his mind as well! He hadn't quite processed what it was Tyrrisath had said before Larrikith appeared out of between with a shriek of rage, her eyes a hot and furious crimson as she landed on the roof of the hut. The tiny creature was puffed up to her full size with wings half extended in an effort to make herself look bigger as she used the building to tower over the brown.

Stay out of his mind! Her hiss of anger followed the sound of her mindvoice, thick with venomous warning. In and of herself, Larrikith had nothing against Tyrrisath. Or, when he wasn't picking on Ronarth at any rate, she had no qualms against the brown. He was fine beast. B'jin's haunting fear of S'kef kept her from flying with him, despite his chases, and his response when the brown bespoke him made her angry. No one should cause her human such disgusted fear! She did not have access to the one memory that would have had her ripping out Tyrrisath's throat if given a chance, which was probably a very solid reason why B'jin kept it from her.

Ignore him, Ronarth, Larrikith said to the bronze, her tone mightier-than-thou as she glared at the brown. He is the fool, and unworthy of your attentions. Fluttering her wings to her sides once more, Larrikith brushed gently against B'jin's mind, her attention drifting from reassuring Ronarth to focusing more tightly on her rider as he quickly bottled up in his usual manner when the Weyrsecond was around. His stance straightened and he took an almost invisible step toward D'ren, eyes never once leaving the face of the man standing in the doorway. All the same, B'jin raised the glass of wine to his lips and took a delicate sip.

"S'kef," he greeted quietly, nodding his head politely in greeting. The greenrider had not had enough to drink that he was out of the game, and he fell easily into familiar steps when around S'kef. To be polite, cordial, and never, ever let anyone discover how damned terrified he was. Only Larrikith was aware of how truly in the man's control B'jin was, as his pulse raced and he very carefully kept his breathing even if slightly shallow. Nothing unusual there.

The damage was done. Ronarth was suitably upset, coiling himself tightly outside and letting out a vicious hiss at Tyrrisath as the brown landed. I am NOT a half-wit! he barked defensively. He jumped a bit as Larrikith appeared shrieking from between, her tiny body practically exploding in fury. The bronze crooned at her, but at the same time rose from where he lay and placed his large body in between her and Tyrrisath, all but daring the brown to do anything in response to her verbal attacks.

Tyrrisath was uncaring. He cringed a bit from Ronarth's initial reaction, inspired in part by a dragon's natural sense of hierarchy, but also encouraged by his rider. After all, the entire ploy revolved around distracting the bronzepair, did it not?  So the brown lowered his head and folded his wings, eyes flashing yellow for the briefest of moments as he shrank before Ronarth, but his inward thoughts were anything but remorseful.

Sorry, Larrikith he said casually in his deep, rich voice.
But you know how it goes...we must do as our bonded requests His words came almost at a purr, indicating just how little he cared at the mass offense he had caused. After all, it had worked. D'ren came outside, brushing past S'kef as he entered and running to Ronarth.

Ronarth was an impulsive dragon with a lot of spirit, and he could be hard to control. D'ren came to the beast's side and placed his hands on the dragon's bronze hide as he tried to talk him down. D'ren was too alarmed from Ronarth's wild outburst and too hazy from drink to pick up on what was really going on, though.

S'kef moved inside unobstructed, a warm, practically glowing expression on his face. "B'jin," he said, eyes widening hungrily. Was that fear he smelled?

It is. He belongs to you.

Of course

"How are you?" he said with a sickly sweet smile. It was charming in a way, nicely accented by his neat grooming and stately posture. "I'm glad to see you up and on your feet."  While he an Tyrrisath both knew they left an impression on B'jin, neither of them knew quite how deep it ran. It was worth keeping the pressure on, though. And how could S'kef expect to do that with D'ren in the way?

And why would yours want you to commune with mine? The green's voice was indignant, slightly snide but low in tone. His apology settled her somewhat, but not completely for she was not unaware of his lack of remorse. She still felt it completely beyond reason for the brown to touch upon her human's mind without consent, and insulting Ronarth was beyond uncalled for! Her eyes were still hot with irritation and her unhappiness with the situation as she settled on the roof, not unaware of Ronarth positioning himself as a barrier between herself and the much larger brown. Larrikith was distracted from watching D'ren run to comfort Ronarth by the sudden spike in fear that originated from her rider, and she huffed irritably. For goodness sake! This day was not worth the effort it had taken to Fly that morning!

Hush, love. Larrikith murmured gently against B'jin's mind, attempting to brush aside his fear. The alcohol in his system was causing it to burn brighter and hotter than normal, but Larrikith also noted he was not so far gone in the drink as to let it display any more than the emotions S'kef usually brought about in the man did. On the inside, the greenrider was trembling so badly she could just about see his thoughts bouncing around as a result. Outwardly, B'jin stood tall and despite the slightly shallow breathing (which he was convincing himself could be attributed to his chatter and drinking with the Weyrleader) his fear was minimal. A desperate glance flashed after D'ren when the man left the room, but he made no move to follow. That would involve stepping far too close to S'kef and he would rather keep the dining table between them!

The brownrider's smile caused a shudder to tremble down B'jin's spine and he carefully shifted his weight and stance, the better to flee, though in actuality it simply appeared as if he were changing the primary weight holder as he raised his glass once more and took another sip, barely enough liquid passing from glass to mouth to even wet his tongue. Brown eyes, dark with suspicion, didn't leave S'kef for a moment. The man before him, both beautiful and deadly, was not to be underestimated. It was not the first time D'ren had left them alone together and B'jin highly doubted it would be the last. The Weyrleader, always so up to date on everything, was so very unobservant when it came to the two men. B'jin didn't blame him. He and S'kef were both good actors, when the moment called. Right now, the moment was practically screaming as the smaller dragonrider caught the hunger in S'kef's gaze and his terror intensified.

Fighting his own reactions, the greenrider's eyebrow arched upward, and he gave S'kef a slightly amused look. The fear remained, but D'ren was not far away, Larrikith was literally above his head, and so he fell into the familiar dance they moved through together. "Well, thank you," B'jin replied in a deceptively mild tone. "Of course," he said, and the smile on his lips was icy cold, eyes dead as he refused to acknowledge the memory (he couldn't risk Larrikith finding it!) but he knew S'kef would recognise the quip. "You should know I do not fall so easily." His eyebrow lowered back to its natural position and he took another sip of his wine. He didn't offer the Weyrsecond any wine, though he would have if it were not S'kef but someone else - even if the drink in question were not his to give - for B'jin was sure D'ren would be completely unsurprised by such an act from the impulsive greenrider. B'jin simply had no desire to end up cornered in the kitchen, which he had no doubt the brownrider would leap on.

"I do hope you are not here officially," B'jin said lightly, his tone toppling into mild amusement, eyes focused on S'kef's. The Weyrsecond's hard brown eyes were as terrifying as the rest of him, but the greenrider refused to look away. Like a tunnelsnake, he was prepared to bet that one false move would have him striking. B'jin had had a rough enough morning without adding a beating from the Weyrsecond to it, and he didn't have the time to imagine what S'kef would do to him. "D'ren is somewhat inebriated at the moment."

His reasons are his own, and ultimately very complicated Tyrrisath said in a deferring tone. He crept steadily to one side, snaking his neck closer to Ronarth in order to peek around the bronze. Ronarth let out a sudden hiss and swiped his paw at Tyrrisath, swatting the brown in the side of the head. Tyrrisath hissed and pulled back, startled. His usual stoicism was shaken for a brief moment.

S'kef! the brown dragon said in indignant shock.

S'kef's expression tightened as he felt thew blow on his own cheek, discomfort flashing briefly across his face. Keep it together he ordered irritably. He could hear D'ren scolding Ronarth outside, the man's voice all but washed away by Ronarth's whimperings of protest. It was just a little swat!

Well, it was enough for S'kef to feel insulted, and perhaps a bit 'put in his place'. It was a reminder that the Weyrleader was right outside and could stop his game at any moment. His composure was damaged for those few seconds before he shot a positively toxic look at B'jin, who had so often been the victim of his rage before. "I couldn't help but notice that," he said through gritted teeth, eyeing the wine bottle with disapproval. "You're a wonderful influence."

He took a step closer, feeling like he needed to compensate for the brief miscalculation. "But no. I'm not here officially. Just checking in, making sure everything is running smoothly." His eyes narrowed as he rested the palm of one hand on the desk and rocked his weight onto it. "So tell me, B'jin..what are you doing here? Not causing trouble, I take it?"