13.Oct.19, 10:07 PM
F’drel reluctantly let T’ryn get up, trying very hard not to make a disappointed noise at the loss of human contact. As T’ryn stood up he rolled onto the slightly warmer patch of floor T’ryn had just vacated. It was a little pathetic, but the floor was cold and now there wasn’t a person against him making it even slightly tolerable. He took the offered hand with a soft ‘thanks’ and moved to start collecting his various items of clothing, setting the knocked over chair back on its feet along the way.
He froze for a moment at T’ryn’s invitation, his usual paranoia rearing its head long enough for him to feel a moment of panic about going back to a bronzerider’s weyr, and a bronzerider he’d just had sex with to boot. Halomirth swatted the thought away grumpily. That was not what she wanted, and F’drel managed to let out the breath he was holding. This was T’ryn, not… well, 99% of potential Flight winners. T’ryn was at least reasonably safe. Maybe not as safe as R’dal, but much safer than most other men he knew. If nothing else, Mylorah would kick her brother’s ass if he did anything - even if he and Mylorah weren’t getting along the same these days, F’drel remembered with a pang. Halomirth let out a gusty sigh and shoved that train of thought away too. Right.
“Thank you,” F’drel said quietly, “I think I’ll take you up on that.” Halomirth practically cheered. He continued to get dressed, pausing again to frown at his shirt. So many people had touched his shirt during the Flight, and he hated thinking about whose hands and where they might have been. Ugh. F’drel wished he didn’t have to put it back on, but it wasn’t like he had any other shirt there at the moment. His pants weren’t as bad, because only T’ryn and maybe one or two other people had touched those, which F’drel supposed was tolerable for the moment. At least his socks were probably fine? He sighed in frustration and threw the shirt on the chair for the moment while he tracked down his other sock.
He froze for a moment at T’ryn’s invitation, his usual paranoia rearing its head long enough for him to feel a moment of panic about going back to a bronzerider’s weyr, and a bronzerider he’d just had sex with to boot. Halomirth swatted the thought away grumpily. That was not what she wanted, and F’drel managed to let out the breath he was holding. This was T’ryn, not… well, 99% of potential Flight winners. T’ryn was at least reasonably safe. Maybe not as safe as R’dal, but much safer than most other men he knew. If nothing else, Mylorah would kick her brother’s ass if he did anything - even if he and Mylorah weren’t getting along the same these days, F’drel remembered with a pang. Halomirth let out a gusty sigh and shoved that train of thought away too. Right.
“Thank you,” F’drel said quietly, “I think I’ll take you up on that.” Halomirth practically cheered. He continued to get dressed, pausing again to frown at his shirt. So many people had touched his shirt during the Flight, and he hated thinking about whose hands and where they might have been. Ugh. F’drel wished he didn’t have to put it back on, but it wasn’t like he had any other shirt there at the moment. His pants weren’t as bad, because only T’ryn and maybe one or two other people had touched those, which F’drel supposed was tolerable for the moment. At least his socks were probably fine? He sighed in frustration and threw the shirt on the chair for the moment while he tracked down his other sock.