==== September 21, 2013
==== Aife, Alyei, Hannah, Xaychil
==== Just a brief break in the tavern: Alyei bums a drink or two off of Aife. They then meet Hannah, and also an exhausted Xaychil.

Who Aife, Alyei, Hannah, Xaychil
What Just a brief break in the tavern: Alyei bums a drink or two off of Aife. They then meet Hannah, and also an exhausted Xaychil.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 3 days until the 12th pass.
Where Tavern, Southern Weyr

Aife1.jpg aly1.jpg hannah_default.jpg


Of course this should be renovated with alacrity: though the glass is yet to be replaced in the windows, there is a large marble-topped bar along the western half of this standalone building, and a random tangle of chairs and tables much like the living caverns. For now, assistant headmen man the meagre stock of beer and wine and whiskey, and no fancy drinks issue forth.

It’s a fairly sparse crowd in the tavern this close to the afternoon, giving those there plenty of room at the tables for privacy should they want it. Chief among them is Aife, situated at a table close to where a breeze could be felt, ruffling through the mass amount of wild curls framing her face. She has beer before her along with a sheet of hide that she’s scribbling furiously on, her head slightly bent down while on occasion looking about her towards anything and anyone that should do anything to catch her sharp attention. Case in point, a table away is a group of four cavern working women playing a friendly game of cards, seeming to be more into their gossip talk than the cards since it looks like no one’s keeping score.

Some people (namely 16-turn-old apprentices) have no business being in taverns at all, but at least midday means they aren't coming in to what might otherwise be some seedy den of iniquity. Sweating, mopping her face with a handkerchief that might be making her more dirty than clean, Alyei bypasses the card-playing ladies with barely a glance, probably because she's still fighting the glare, coming in from outside to the dimmer interior. There's a bit of a grumbling at the bar, where she's trying to order a beer and the bartender's arguing that he ain't giving no girl apprentice no beer. It ends with her settling for cider and pushing sulkily down the bar, now casting a glance around the early patrons and ending up noticing Aife - and Aife's hidework - which prompts a furrow of her brow while she peers over the top of her mug.

It’s good to say that this itinerant healer did catch the small altercation at the bar, involving one young-looking apprentice in between her furious writing. Aife’s gaze next meets Alyei’s right then once she settles down sulkily, her writing stylus pausing just above dotting an i before she slides a look towards the barkeep and gives him some consideration. With the glint in her eye – which is probably not a good thing – she slowly straightens up and sends the oblivious barkeep a significant look. It’s short; it’s meant for the apprentice. Perhaps this next one is, too – a hand reaches out and knuckles the cup of beer in her direction along with a distinct drop of her chin in gesture. Yeah, she could get in trouble if the barkeep sees. The mischief in her gaze says she really doesn’t care. At least she’s daring the sulky girl to come get it.

Alyei finishes the first drink, which does a lot to help with her sweaty state. The ale may not be quite what she wanted, but it was nice and refreshing, and she wipes her hand across her mouth, noticing Aife's gesture only once she's done. Her tongue pokes out for a second, sticking to the corner of her mouth contemplatively while her eyes move shiftily toward the bartender. There aren't so many patrons that he's going to be too busy to notice, but she goes for it anyway. YOLO, right? Pushing off her barstool, she takes the few steps over to Aife's table, puts her ale down right next to the beer mug, slides onto an empty seat, and sooooooo craftily picks up the beer mug instead of the ale. Before she takes the last risk, a drink, she looks across the table to catch the Healer's eyes; she sure about this?

Aife watches Alyei watch the barkeep. There’s humor in her gaze as she shifts to put writing stylus back to hide, but once the apprentice makes her move, the stylus immediately goes down with a low chuckle. At the end of that chuckle, she states in her low and rustic voice, “By the time he looks, you’ve already downed it. You’re welcome, by the way.” That’s if she can down over a half cup of beer, she doesn’t say. Either way, she’s entertained. She does dot that i in the end, though, adding one more sentence down with her eyes more on the hide as she adds in, “A girl shouldn’t be denied her beer. A beer. Any beer. No thanks is needed. Consider it a public service from one thirsty patron to another.”

Alyei, looking over her shoulder, over the back of the chair, takes a deep breath and blows it out in preparation for this monumental feat. After holding up a finger, one sec, she lifts the mug and knocks back… not all of it, but pride has her get pretty far through the half-mug remaining. She has to wipe a dribble off the edge of her mouth before she's done, and her eyes look watery when she lowers it, and there's obviously a big ol' burp lodged somewhere between her belly and her mouth, but she slides the quarter-inch remaining in the bottom back toward Aife. Her, "Thanks," comes out a little strained, with a wry smile for punctuation since Aife just said that no thanks were necessary. "They think they'll get in trouble or something. Can't explain to them that it'd be me, not them." She rolls her eyes to so eloquently express the countless frustrations. Her ale is sitting in the middle of the table all this while, in the public domain.

That she knocks back most of it, Aife’s nodding a few times and looking impressed. “Much better than ale,” she surmises to that thanks. “And of course they think that. They also think they’re doing you a favor. They always do.” She reaches for the cup then, peering into the cup to see what’s remaining within. Eyeing her shoulderknot right then, “Apprentice?” she asks, nodding towards it as she knocks back whatever’s left of the beer and setting the cup down.

"Herder," Alyei confirms, flicking the dusty, wilted knot worn on her shoulder, an adornment that looks about as overheated as the girl wearing it did when she came in to the tavern to begin with. "You're a…?" Squinting, there's an effort to discern what Aife's knot is revealing, forehead wrinkling while the Herder puts more thought into it than someone really should have to. "Healer, yeah? Journeyman." So she's at least confident about some part of it. The burp comes out of her right then and there, big and totally untidy, though she manages to shove at least part of it into her fist and thumps her chest afterward to try to clear the remnants. With a loud ahem, she adds, "Sorry. Beer."

“Healer, yeah,” Aife is casually to affirm her own knot, nodding as she grabs up the ale sitting there and takes a single sip. She seems to be so non-chalant about everything, even. “The place where I’ve learned to down a beer or two, myself, though they really didn’t have a pretty kick-ass place like this. Visiting from the Hall, or were you sent here?” ‘Like her’, she could be implying, though no words get added. The burp draws a quick smile then and a, “Hey, I’d hazard another one but….” But. Aife’s leaning over to look at a the barkeep, considering at least for the moment since it’s obvious the girl is sitting with her. Not that that would stop her.

It's early in the day, so the tavern's none too populated. There's some ladies playing cards and gossiping, a couple of other patrons, a barkeep, and then the two crafters sitting at a table with two mugs in between them, though good luck figuring out which belongs to whom. Aife might have been doing some work not so long ago, since she has some writing implements with her, but Alyei was obviously out and about, with sweat still darkening around her hairline and a handkerchief draped graceless around her neck, wadded with dampness. "Order it and I'll pay ya back? Since I kinda - " A smaller burp finishes that sentence more eloquently than she could have verbally. "You learned to knock back beers at Healer Hall?" she asks, squinting dubiously and forgetting (or foregoing) the explanation of her arrival at the Weyr.

Surely it's five o'clock somewhere, and surely that's why Hannah's wandered into the Tavern dressed in a sundress that shows a fair amount of pale shoulders and collarbones as well as more calf than is decent when the blue-green material's hem comes just above the knee. Pale hair is loosely held together in a braid with tendrils falling free to frame a face that seems expectant to find Sevreni, the owner, behind the bar. Disappointment gives way to a shrug as the junior angles her way to the bar, requesting, "A bottle of your finest…" green eyes scan the shelves, "… just give me something good." Not an alcohol connoisseur, where is Bailey when you need her. It's then that, while waiting, she spots the two crafters. Pale brows lift, but for the moment, she awaits her bottle.

“I run a tight docket when it comes to owing me favors,” Aife is far too easy to state, but she then adds, “but it’s just a beer. I can just borrow from my brother here if I run out of marks.” The way she says it, her wild curls being brushed off one shoulder, one would think that this brother was simply made of marks and couldn’t deny her a piece of it. “Wait here.” She gets up and heads toward the bar counter with cup in hand, standing over towards Hannah since she has the barkeep’s attention. Once Hannah gives her order, and hearing her order with a lopsided grin, “You look like a red wine girl. More of the same,” she tacks on the last at the barkeep with a little circular wave of her empty cup. Since it was just beer, the man with Sevreni passes a filled one towards her with a hard look towards Alyei, then the healer slaps a mark piece down on the counter before tossing a grin their way and returning to their table. Now she addresses Alyei’s question with beer in hand – it’s being set down within reaching arm distance, of course – and passing Hannah a curious glance as she says, “Not much else to do when you’re not studying. Plus it helped take the edge off from all the pressure. I never got caught, of course.” Of course.

Mouth open around the beginning of her question, "Who's yer - " Alyei clips the end of the question to let Aife go fetch the beer, or maybe it's because, looking off the edge of the table, she watches Hannah come in. Nothing'll make a girl more aware of how not awesome she's looking by someone looking great, but the best the Herder can do is take the handkerchief off her neck and, er, wad it around her hand uselessly. She answers the barkeep's look with a smile full of sass, a real 'do something' expression while she waits for him to look away, presumably to serve Hannah. "Who's your brother?" she goes back to, nodding along with the whole 'never got caught' part. "A guy with a lotta marks is worth knowing, after all." She swipes a quick sip, wiping the rim with her (dirty) handkerchief afterward, like that totally helps.

"I do like red wine," Hannah comments with a slight smile, turning to change her order. "Thanks for the suggestion," she gives before Aife's order is given and the crafter heads back to her table. Once she has the bottle in hand, the goldrider steps lightly towards Aife's and Alyei's table, pausing when she comes at the tail end of Aife's comment. "I've never been in a craft, but I think the tedium of learning anything would yield a wee bit of wildness from the students, no?" Both girls are peered at, green eyes alight with curiosity. "Just arrived?" Hannah's life has been a little tumultuous lately, so errors might be made here! "I'm Hannah," she greets, slight smile curving her lips. "And you are… not new Candidates." Which means they can drink. Alyei's handkerchief might be eyed just slightly, especially when she wipes the rim of her glass with it.

Settling down and reaching for her written note as if she’s suddenly remembered that it existed, once the cup is released, Aife’s about to answer Alyei when Hannah arrives. Her eyes? They’re on her sundress – perhaps even covetously. Looking at the drink the weyrwoman has then with some wry sort of satisfaction of being right, “And even when there is just a little spark of intrigue to brighten your day,” is her comment of her words on wildness. A hand lifts and waves for Hannah to join them as she answers her with, “Just about. Name’s Aife,” and she delivers this to both Alyei and Hannah, a nod each. “From Benden. Healer. Well met, Hannah and-“ and then she looks to the apprentice. “We’ve seemed to have exchanged beer but no names.” Pause. “No, not a candidate,” she now adds after a pause. “I think my brother would tear his little beard out if I was. I’m letting him get used to the idea of me being around right now, the one with the marks.” Beat. “Th’seus.” Thus, answering Alyei’s queries in a roundabout way.

Just arrived? Alyei shakes her head, offering no further explanation except that: she's not a newbie. But there are undoubtedly enough tomboyish teenage girls around the Weyr that it's no surprise that she hasn't made an impression, so she just shoves in, "Hi Hannah… ma'am?" She not totally sure how necessary it is, that uncertain tone explains, and she crams on afterward, "I'm Alyei. Ali." She shakes her head again, not a candidate, and turns her hand over with the handkerchief still stuck inside it, offering it toward the goldrider mutely, in case that skeptical look was meant to request the use of the dingy red article. As for Th'seus, her brows go up, but she doesn't jump on top of that tidbit right away, filing it away instead.

"Well met, Aife," Hannah does take a seat at the invitation, setting the unopened bottle onto the table's edge where it won't get smashed or knocked off. Folding her legs beneath her when she does sit; it's not quite a demure position, but it allows a little bit of extra height and doesn't show any embarrassing dangling of feet. "Th'seus. Huh. I should talk to Q'fex to figure out how all the marks seem to flow into his rider's pockets." Husky tone implies: 'and not into mine.' Her red wine is not Benden red, after all. Leaning her elbows on the table's edge, she tucks pale hair behind her ears, and glances from Aife to Alyei. "Well met, Ali." The smile she offers is kind, even as she's waving away any desire to touch the handkerchief. Placement of Alyei's face might finally dawn, though beyond a sharper look to the girl, the junior doesn't comment. "You never know. Your brother might yet Search you. It is his dragon's clutch." And hers too, but for the moment she doesn't voice that.

Ma’am? Aife frowns slightly at Alyei for the deference to Hannah, until she does realize who she’s talking to and it shows on her face. Staring hard at Hannah, “You’re one of the weyrwomen,” she states, as if she doesn’t know. “I mean. Yeah. Ma’am. You go by ‘ma’am’? Or ‘sir’? Or? I didn’t get him in trouble, did I?” Questions in almost rapid succession. Get use to it. It’s her thing. The ‘he’ is likely about Th’seus and his supposed secret stash of marks. She blinks just a bit before she states to Alyei, “Ali. Well met. Don’t want anymore?” The beer. She’s nudging it forward now, towards her. “Drink up. I’ve got some errands to run, so I can’t end up too hazy. You never answ- well,” she amends it, clearing her throat, referring to the question that didn’t get answered earlier. She noticed. She’s noticing a lot from the study Hannah puts on Alyei and the way Alyei is answering back, but the erstwhile healer is not drawing attention to it. Answering the last, there’s a slight shrug and a wry, “That dragon of his isn’t so nice, but, you never know. Can’t imagine me on a dragon of my own, though.”

The sharper look gets a quick twitch of Alyei's eyebrows back at Hannah, like she might be following the goldrider's thoughts - or her realization, anyways, but the two seem to be in concord about not discussing it. Whatever it is. "I didn't say that," she tells Aife quickly, sliding the beer back her way and taking a drink that's not so likely to make her erupt in gigantic burps. The two women have their back-and-forth about the possibility of Aife trading in her Healer's knot for a white one, and, after Aife's last comment, she suggests, "Bet you'd say yes if someone asked you." Like she's so sage about this kinda stuff.

The smile that is given to Aife is one of amused mystery, though Hannah shakes her head minutely, a hint of laughter playing behind her eyes. Brows lift slightly, "I would never cause trouble for Th'seus." The innocence in expression gives way to, "If you keep talking like your brother's full of marks, I can't imagine the other wingleaders are going to stay quiet." Just what Q'fex needs, right? A stampede to his door in outrage at showing one of his wingleaders favoritism by showering him with marks. "Just Hannah, today." This is given to both girls, "Although, I much prefer 'ma'am' to 'sir' as I am no male." Again, the unfurling of amusement in her tone. "Vossuth doesn't need to be nice. Dhiammarath is perfectly content to have him just the way he is." Which helps protect those eggs. An astute look is shot towards Alyei, "Most people do say yes if you ask them. I am partial to this clutch, since it is mine." Hers and Dhiammarath's, that is.

Watching the two with veiled interest, Aife is even more amused when Alyei goes for the beer. “Neither would I,” she answers on causing trouble for her brother. “Duly noted, though, Hannah.” She’s trying Hannah’s name on for size now, after all. She snorts on Vossuth, adding, “Are they all like him then? I don’t really spend time around dragons. This place is the closest I’ve been, even.” There’s a chuckle for Alyei on her last comment about someone asking her, both hands briefly raising in a ‘out of my hands’ gesture before she states, “Well, I’ve got so much on my plate these days…” Right. She’s so busy that she’s sharing a beer in the mid morning. “Maybe I would. I like to keep people guessing, though.” To Hannah, as she starts to fold her hide note in half, “What’s it like, owning a clutch of eggs? If I can ask?” An odd question, maybe.

Most people do say eyes, "Yeah, but not everybody." Alyei's being a little argumentative toward someone she just guessed at ma'am-ing, true, but the edge is less like she's challenging Hannah and more like she's just so totally up to speed on the issue. Afterward, she's peering into the mug when she snickers, lifting her eyes to shoot a glance across the table at Aife in explanation for just why she's snickering. So much, indeed. She takes another good gulp and puts the half-empty/full (depends on your perspective) back in the middle of the table for the Healer to have a go before the Herder's guzzled it all. Also, she burps into her hankie again, quiet afterward to hear what Hannah's got to say about egg ownership.

"No, they aren't. Vossuth is one of a kind." Hannah's prim response seems more from within than not, as if directed from a source other than her own opinion. Unwinding herself from her seat, she grabs up her bottle and gives Aife a curious look. "It is like owning anything of value. You treasure it, nurture it, and protect it from those that seek to harm it. And they are so very fragile." Nibbling the corner of her lip, she frowns, but shakes her head. "And I'd best get back to it. Seems as if Ja'kai wants to send another round of Candidates onto the sands to touch them." Which causes the little goldrider to quiver a little, possibly showing the internal fretting that goes along with such things. "Clear skies, both of you," though she pauses when Alyei makes her statement. However, only a longer look is given towards the girl, a hint of something more dangerous coming to play behind the eyes before the goldrider is off. A cheery wave is given to both girls before junior and red wine bottle sail right out of the tavern.

“Yeah, I can believe that,” Aife comments on Vossuth being one of a kind. She could add more, but Hannah’s explaining about what it’s like owning a clutch, and it’s clear that the healer is taking in every single word said and filing it away. She’s nodding, slowly, frowning slightly before her lips part to deliver some comment. Well, it gets lodged once Alyei says what she does, brows going up at her – not in admonition, though. It’s speculative from her. Believe she’s taking in the sniff, the hint of something turbulent from the weyrwoman that draws her attention and curiosity more than the answer on the clutch. “Clear skies, Hannah,” her farewell, is slow and calculating, watching the woman leave with a little wiggle of fingers that reach for the cup. Only once Hannah’s out of earshot, “What was that all about?” She has to ask. Her nosiness is getting the best of her.

Alyei, leaning forward so her elbow rests on the table and she can cradle the curve between her cheek and her chin on her palm, listens to Hannah's description with a mounting skepticism that reflects in the way she tilts her head, knits her brows, and flattens her mouth. She straightens up real quick when she gets shot that sharper look, and she says (a totally unbelievable), "Oh, you too. Clear skies." It's a phrase she's probably never used before, based on how foreign it sounds coming out of her mouth, and she's right back to slouching the second Hannah's back is turned, a shrug lifting toward Aife. "What was what all about?" she counters with big-eyes, like she's completely clueless. "So your brother nailed that goldrider, huh?" Hi, subject change.

“Judging by the storm gathering in that one’s eyes….” Aife notices with a look towards Hannah’s rapidly retreating back. “What, she stole a dress of yours or something or you just- wait, what?” She was talking, but it all falls short when she asks the last. Now it’s her turn to look clueless. “Who, Th’seus? He’s with her?” She’s duly distracted. For now. “We’re going to need another beer for this.” Maybe it’s just another excuse to drink.

Alyei answers for the likelihood of a stolen dress with a 'you gotta be kidding me' look and a quick flip of her fingers to show her current attire, the denim and sweaty shirt and dirty handkerchief, nuff said. There's still that ale she never drank, so she uses her free hand to nudge it with a fingertip toward Aife, in case that answers for the drink they're going to need, and the Herder points out, "Well, if his dragon and her dragon made eggs together, then, well." She pauses, the dot-dot-dot implied in what she's left unsaid. At least until she says it: "They banged each other." The two crafters sit at a table in the relatively empty tavern, it being late morning and not everyone keen on getting smashed before lunch (losers).

The look from Alyei gets a shrug and a, “I was going to go with if she had fucked your man or something, but…” Aife takes back, opting for the other, crasser option. She does take up the ale though – never good to waste any sort of drink – and considers the next. Of course that thought has crossed her mind, the pause seems to say before, “Well, I mean. That can’t be helped, right? Thought you meant they were-“ There’s fingers wiggling at each other in the pause with a pointed look, as if that’s supposed to convey Th’seus and Hannah really shacking up. “You know. What’s up with changing the subject?” Like a dog with a bone as she leans a bit forward. “You can tell me. Haven’t you heard that healers are known not to squeal shit?” If not, then Aife’s making it a rule now.

Mighty warm here in the Southern jungles, fraught with humidity as it is. It's like to ruin a good hairdo, sure to disappoint the more meticulous among the human population. Good thing Xaychil is hardly likely to notice his hair gone limp as a windless sail — he's much too thirsty to care. Pushing one side of the swinging doors open, he looks about with a nervous squint, hoping the people settled within are not going to pause and STARE. Will they notice the small young man who makes his way into the Tavern? If they're busy enough with their gossip and drinks, Xaychil may be in luck, nervy as he is by the undue attention of too many eyes on him at once. relieved to find them otherwise engaged, her slips on in and glides as unobtrusively as he can over to the bar to procure something chilled to wet his throat. Once that's done, he's wilting bonelessly into a chair with a sigh. Oh, the agony of too much hot.

If dress-stealing got a snide silent answer, then man-stealing gets a snide audible one by way of a snicker, even a laugh that Alyei blows out in a puff. "I just said they nailed each other, not that they're…" She illustrates a more permanent hook-up by making Os out of her thumbs and forefingers and linking them together. She leans back when Aife leans forward, her eyes twitching sideways to follow the blonde guy-kid-thing on his way from the entrance to the bar, watching his collapse even while she counters, "I can tell you what? You didn't really ask anything specific." So it's totally obviously Aife's fault and not Alyei's. Totally.

Yes, Aife is one of those that notices Xaychil when he enters into the tavern. She makes it her business to stare people down when she’s present in their arrival and she does not disappoint. Leaning back more comfortably in her chair with the ale, “Could have been continuous,” she notes on the nailing part. “Not that I’m all that interested in the mating habits of my brother. Though maybe she’s his type. I dunno.” She grins lopsidedly for the hand gestures, either way, briefly lifting up her cup in a sort of toast. Following Alyei’s gaze towards the blonde, “So you’re one of those?” she drawls slowly on her question, a brow arching. “Those that only answer on specifics? The way you were staring that woman down and backtalking like we were back at the Hall. Doesn’t seem like a whole lot of nothing to me,” she muses as she nurses the drink. “It was like you two had in previous run-in that didn’t end so well. So.” There’s a look, even though she cuts her gaze towards the blonde man to add in an aside, “He just come from where you came from?” The clothes. The exhaustion.

Oh, but Xaychil is ALL the disappoint, though he dredges up a ghost of a friendly smile for Aife. One must show manners, after all, even when one doesn't feel like being mannerly. It's the great societal law, and all that. So, he manages to rearrange his small self into a more upright position, clutching his drink in careful fingers and attempting to look less like a wilted wet noodle and more like a person. Hey, wait, are they talking about him? Cringe — and here he is, not looking his best, or anything. Whatever will they think of him. Self-consciously, he brushes a hand over his clothes, trying to discreetly straighten them — and fails. They remain rumpled and worn. Really, now he's *really* disappointed. He's not exactly making a great impression, here.

Alyei says in an undertone, very little voice behind the words, "Pretty sure she's everyone's type," and then she rubs her knuckles against her freckly nose. As for whether or not she's one of those, eh, she shrugs it off and points out, "She didn't even know who I was, remember?" Which seems to deflate the idea that they had a previous anything, let alone a run-in. Back with her jaw on the heel of her hand, she watches Xaychil blatantly for a few seconds and then answers, "Dunno," to Aife. So let's find out: "Hey. Blondie." FYI, manners are not everyone's societal law. "Where you coming from? You look like you've been…" She searches for an appropriate descriptor and comes up with, "Rode hard and put up wet."

“I prefer redheads,” Aife is quick on the quips enough to suggest that she could be just pulling Alyei’s chain. “So it’s a ‘you know her sort of deal,” this is more statement than question since she nods. “I’m starting to think you’ve got a ‘thing’ for the woman.” What kind of ‘thing’, she’s leaving up to interpretation and perceptions. But now there’s Xaychil, drawing more of her attention until Alyei calls him over the way he does. Both brows raise only slightly towards the last, the healer turning to look the blonde over fully now as if she was measuring those last six words for blatant accuracy. There’s a short pant of laughter from her, saying to the herder, “You’ve got some sharp mouth on you, Ali.” Offended? Shocked? If anything, Aife looks like she could be a bad influence! “Remind me to buy you a beer more often.” To Xaychil, jerking her chin over, “You should’ve seen me over a seven ago. I looked like I’ve spent the last turn curled up with felines.” Maybe his clothes aren’t that bad.

Xaychil takes a deliberate sip of his drink — iced tea for the lady, thanks much — and tries to come up with a suitably vague answer to the questions put to him. Hopefully one that does not require more explanation, perhaps — because he doesn't have one. Ah, well, might as well see if he's lost his voice along with his dignity. "Out there." There is some relief in knowing that the soft, heavy timbre hasn't been completely lost in the salty spray off that long wooden jetty. He waves a vague hand out toward the Sea of Asimov, wincing slightly at the slightly dirty finger that is now on display for all to see. His mother would disown him for such sloth. "Was helpin' with the docks, see." Because that's TOTALLY something someone as small as he is would be asked to do. But his clothes are that bad: they're rumpled and not exactly clean. Oh, the horror — Aife's generous to try and downplay his current appearance, however.

Alyei looks… confused… by the idea that she has a thing (of any sort) for Hannah, but the conversation's already shifted, so she doesn't try to take it any further than just the befuddled expression. Whatevs. What she does answer is a firm, "Oh, I will," to the idea that she'll remind Aife to buy her more beers. She starts to take exception to the vague idea that Xaychil's going to get away with that vague answer, straightening up, but then he clarifies at least as much as dock work is concerned and she ahhhhs, got it. "So, no, he didn't come from where I came from," she answers Aife helpfully. And, "Why?" Did Aife look like she'd been curled up with the felines. For what it's worth, Xaychil can probably rest easy that at least one of these girls is totally oblivious to the fact that he's uncomfortable looking like hell. But, then, that girl did just call him blondie, so.

Aife catches the confused look and says, “A bad thing?” For? She doesn’t finish it since there’s the nod to go on the beers. Xaychil’s answer seems to suffice for the healer since she gives him a considerable stare – if not a stare meant to probe further on his attire – but she does pause to answer the look from Alyei as she gets to her feet with the written note and the writing stylus being tucked away above her right ear. “You can say I’ve been on the road for a long while before I bummed a ride here,” is her explanation. She certainly doesn’t look worn in clothes now, at least, thanks to the Weyr’s convenient amenities. Before anyone asks her further on that, though, “Well, break’s over,” she announces, as if she has work to get back to. “I better git. Look me up around the infirmary sometime?” this she sends to Alyei, stepping from the table. “We’ll continue to drink and evade each other’s questions. It’ll be a hoot.” As for Xaychil? She pauses by the counter he’s at to give him a once-over and a, “Check out the baths here when you can. See you around.” Then she’s heading for the swinging door, tucking that note into a pocket on the way out.

Xaychil's smile is bright enough to outshine the sun as he looks up at Aife. She mentioned baths, and is therefore his hero forever. "Oh, sounds like heaven," He breathes, forgetting to use his best posture and slouching, relieved again, into his chair. "Huh? Why what?" He begins to question Alyei, only there's that person over there who's growling about returning to work. "Dammit, I just got a break." He mumbles under his breath, rising with haste as he finishes off his iced tea and going door-ward with extreme reluctance. Woe is he. Oh, WOE.

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