08.May.12, 06:36 AM
B'jin jumped visibly when a basket thumped down near him and he scooted across on the table to better make room for it, even as startled brown eyes focused on the carrier. A split second later, and B'jin's face lit up with a delighted smile as Par'a was recognised. "Hello Par'a!" He greeted, before bursting into laughter at her first words. Her next had him snickering as he pondered who she could mean. He was really behind on the latest gossip, and hadn't been in Par'a's company recently enough to be caught up.
He was sure he knew about- Oh! "Erisi!" B'jin giggled, throwing a wicked glance in the direction of the retreating Weyrling. "I'll pass. He's a little sour for me." Never mind the fact that the young greenrider was involved (to some degree) with Talian. B'jin grimaced at the thought, and shook himself theatrically. "Ooh!" Dropping his riding straps, B'jin brushed his hands against his thighs before taking the offered meat and nibbled on it delicately, a vast comparison to Par'a's more starving-child style. He did, however, snatch at the bread with a wicked grin and tear a chunk off for himself, before pawing through her basket.
"Not in the slightest," B'jin said blandly, grimacing at Par'a, before flicking a glance at Jazira. "Only in flesh that is already dead," B'jin returned to the girl, arching an eyebrow at her odd compliment - well, he assumed it was a compliment. He was pretty sure Talian would have something to say about his stitching quality and B'jin was pretty sure he had no intentions of ever sewing someone shut himself. That's what he had Talian for! Brown eyes soon refocused on the excitable woman that was feeding him, B'jin surfacing from the basket with a chunk of cheese and some more meat. "Yummy," he said, grinning happily as he made it into a sandwich of types.
"Life has been incredibly uneventful!" B'jin continued, back on the topic Par'a had originally instigated. "I've been good!" He said, laughing wickedly. A fact that was true, for the most part; aside from skipping out on Harper duties or springing his brats out of classes to help him bathe Larrikith, B'jin had been minding himself. It wouldn't last forever, of course, but he was hoping it would last at least long enough to get those breathing down his neck off his case. S'kef, in particular, the son of a threadscored Wher!
He was sure he knew about- Oh! "Erisi!" B'jin giggled, throwing a wicked glance in the direction of the retreating Weyrling. "I'll pass. He's a little sour for me." Never mind the fact that the young greenrider was involved (to some degree) with Talian. B'jin grimaced at the thought, and shook himself theatrically. "Ooh!" Dropping his riding straps, B'jin brushed his hands against his thighs before taking the offered meat and nibbled on it delicately, a vast comparison to Par'a's more starving-child style. He did, however, snatch at the bread with a wicked grin and tear a chunk off for himself, before pawing through her basket.
"Not in the slightest," B'jin said blandly, grimacing at Par'a, before flicking a glance at Jazira. "Only in flesh that is already dead," B'jin returned to the girl, arching an eyebrow at her odd compliment - well, he assumed it was a compliment. He was pretty sure Talian would have something to say about his stitching quality and B'jin was pretty sure he had no intentions of ever sewing someone shut himself. That's what he had Talian for! Brown eyes soon refocused on the excitable woman that was feeding him, B'jin surfacing from the basket with a chunk of cheese and some more meat. "Yummy," he said, grinning happily as he made it into a sandwich of types.
"Life has been incredibly uneventful!" B'jin continued, back on the topic Par'a had originally instigated. "I've been good!" He said, laughing wickedly. A fact that was true, for the most part; aside from skipping out on Harper duties or springing his brats out of classes to help him bathe Larrikith, B'jin had been minding himself. It wouldn't last forever, of course, but he was hoping it would last at least long enough to get those breathing down his neck off his case. S'kef, in particular, the son of a threadscored Wher!