In the Kitchen [M'din]

Wake up, M'din, you bumpkin, moaned Armath from his hollow. The small brown flopped to his side, tail languidly stretched into the dirt road beside the hut. He'd been awake for an hour now, drifting in and out of sleep, unbothered by the hustle and bustle of the more productive members of the Weyr. He added unenthusiastically, You told me you had something to do today, whatever that means.

With a start, M'din sat bolt upright in his bed, wiping a trail of spittle from his mouth. He simultaneously thought, I'm so late for my kitchen chores, Armath! and slurred "Unghghoremath!" He tumbled from his bed as the sheets tangled between his feet, thudding to his knees with a squawk. He grabbed randomly at clothing on the floor and ended with a mismatched outfit no different than any other day's wardrobe. Haphazardly pushing his hair out of his eyes, M'din flew out of his front door with no further ablutions. He threw himself onto Armath, who grunted with displeasure, and shouted, "To the Dining Hall!" The pair blinked between with no more complaints from the sluggish dragon, who promptly dropped his rider off and proceeded to a space ideal for basking on the roof. He ignored the frazzled internal guilt of the bearded man- it would pass momentarily- who had already burst through the front door in a panic.

M'din's hefty form raced through the halls, skidding to a stop just inside the kitchen entrance at the sight of a bear-like dog. He smiled widely, not considering that the canine might dislike strangers, and reached out his left hand saying, "Hi, poochy! Big, nice, fluffy doggie." His right hand remained behind his back in a fit of uncharacteristic thoughtfulness for his physical well-being: the two broken fingers had not mended completely and were incredibly tender when touched.

Glancing upward, the brownrider spotted a serious-looking young man against a wall and assumed he was his partner in kitchen-duty, and likely displeased with his tardiness. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," he said with a sheepish grin. "I really overslept this morning-- afternoon," he corrected. The older man awkwardly extended his left hand, protecting his broken digits again, to introduce himself. Completely unaware of his disheveled appearance, he cheerfully said, "I'm M'din."

[spoiler=OOC]FYI: M'din's shirt is on inside-out, lol. Also, his broken fingers refer to an injury from this thread.