Can I help you? [E'kan]

The greenrider was sprawled in his seat, with both legs kicked up to stretch across his desk at the front of the classroom he'd laid claim to several turns back, when the Craft Hall had first been opened up. The room before him was empty, his classes for the day long since having been done and dusted. Outside, Larrikith was sprawled against the wall, legs and wings stretched in every direction as she dozed in the sunshine. B'jin could pick up the faint sound of the fat dragon snoring lightly, a habit the little dragon vehemently denied possessing, despite the fact that she knew B'jin was about as good at lying as the grass was at growing pink. Personally, B'jin couldn't wait until someone else pointed it out... preferably someone Larrikith respected, so that at least they couldn't be eaten for it.

B'jin tapped his quill against his chin, flicking the tip of the feather lightly back and forward and amusing himself with the gentle touch of the feather. Before him, he had a square of rough parchment, the stuff used to get the slightly older students used to pen and paper. It was starting to wear and had been scraped one too many times, but that was all well and fine. The man's expression was deeply amused as he puzzled through the terrible combination of bad writing and worse spelling. Some of these kids! Scratching a light correction in, B'jin managed to decipher another sentence and moved on to the next. Some of these kids were going to find themselves at a sore disadvantage if D'ren decided to toughen up on the requirements of Weyrbrats and their education. They were already competing against men and women with more turns education than most of the 'brats were old.

Finally managing to work his way through the sheet, B'jin tossed it onto the pile of others that had been marked, and turned his attention upon the next. Another atrocious hand, this one almost had legible handwriting and while he still had to decipher what the word was meant to be, B'jin found it much easier to do when he could actually see what the letter was intended to be. Brushing the feather across his cheek absently, B'jin's eyebrow arched as he read through what was written. Some of these brats needed to be more subtle with some of their opinions. Instead of going on the main pile, this one got shoved in a draw that B'jin twisted to tug open and shove it in, being careful not to unseat himself in the process. The next piece was, at least, almost up to B'jin's (rather extravagant) standards. He could read it with ease, and the spelling was even almost entirely correct! Unfortunately, as a result, it needed little more than a bare glance in order to read and mark it... and B'jin was back to the horror of terrible writing, atrocious spelling, and a sudden desire to have his dragon chew firestone so he could burn it all... Sure, let's add unauthorised firestone usage to your list of rule breaking. And you worry about the handwriting of children. Larrikith's voice was a sleepy mumble on the edge of his mind. Your priorities need work, love. B'jin ignored her, in order to toss aside the latest atrocity.

You have a visitor. The little dragon shook herself awake just enough to have her eyes flutter open, though she didn't actually move. Sleepy eyes glanced around, and then she gave a huff and shifted to become more comfortable. Her eyes sunk shut once more, and her breathing slowly deepened. Really! Who? B'jin's thoughts, in comparison, were bright and enthusiastic at the prospect of being interrupted. He couldn't really think who it could be; he was pretty sure his usual array of companions were busy doing one thing or another, and besides, he'd let his students out early so none of them would actually expect him to be free for another hour or so. Brown Zhekemth's rider. Larrikith said gently, not immune to the way B'jin's entire attitude changed at her words. She didn't understand his fear and aversion of her brown brothers and their riders, and occasionally she found it hilarious, sometimes she found it tiresome, but mostly she just didn't care. She couldn't find any reason for it in his mind, and so it was pointless dramatics. B'jin disagreed, but he still wouldn't elaborate so why should she change her tune?

... What does he want? B'jin's voice was reserved now, almost holding back from speaking to her and she could feel the captured memories trying to get free, though she couldn't touch them. Stupid human.  How should I know? she snapped, ignoring the fact that a simple query could answer such a question. Ask him yourself. B'jin's brown eyes lifted warily from the parchment he was holding, and stared at the form of E'kan in the doorway, neither welcoming nor dismissing his appearance.

"Can I help you?" His words were quiet, and polite.