On the first official jaunt out of the groundweyrs K'lir made the error of thinking he'd be allowed to venture out on his own. But no … the bronzerider is flanked by a pair of blanket and pillow toting apprentice healers, hefty enough to pick the big man up should he manage to fall, but looking apprehensive nonetheless. However, the tall rider makes his way through the living caverns to the nighthearth easily enough since he's been practicing with the crutches they've finally given him after days of his fussing and trying to walk without support. Settling into a chair with a sigh he suddenly frowns when the two healers truss him in that blanket and prop his casted leg up with pillows on a footstool and shove other pillows around him as if he were a total invalid. Finally losing his temper, he growls and swats at them both. "Enough already. Get the fuck away and leave me alone!" His glare follows the two startled young men as he tugs loose most of the pillows and tosses them on the floor followed by the blanket though he leaves his leg propped up on the footstool. "Sharding mother hens … first they try to kill me and now they're smothering me … " he grumbles before finally relaxing again.

Aww, look at the baby healers! They are so CUTE. Or something. K'ane enters the nighthearth, looking near as weary as K'lir is of those healers in question. The weyrlingmaster takes the time to pour himself a cup of klah, catching only the tail end of the escapade — missing K'lir's outburst — and only hearing the grumbling. "I don't think they actually, like, try t' kill people," the man offers over K'lir-wards, an absent smile on his face as he focuses on fixing up his klah just perfect. "Unless they're tryin' to kill y' by pillow-smotherin'."

K'lir can't help the dry chuckle that escapes at K'ane's observation and lifts a shoulder in a slight shrug. "I guess not … sure as shards felt like it there for a while though." He shifts in his chair slightly to get more comfortable as he watches the weyrlingmaster fix that cup of klah, wondering if he could get away with a cup of the stimulent without the healers being any wiser. A quiet young woman from the kitchens brings a small tray and sets it next to the bronzerider, a tall glass of juice and a small plate of sweet pastries set out for him. "Hmph. Tell Ardstelle thanks," he murmurs as the girl scuttles off, the man shaking his head in amusement. "Between Arianne, the healers and Ardstelle, I'm not sure if I'll be able to climb up on Bryntaeroth's neck once I'm out of this cast."

"They're good at bein' obnoxious." K'ane shifts a glance askance towards where the two of them loiter, and turns the focus of his blue eyes directly upon K'lir, though the cant of his expression is entirely sly: "Would y' like a cuppa, weyrsecond?" Polite as polite can be, his words are pitched lower, conspiratorial. "I'll trade you for one of those." He gestures with his chin towards that plate of pastries, chuckling quietly for the other man's conversational discussion of weight-gain and dragon-mounting.

K'lir glances sharply at the other bronzerider at the question, the sly expression easing his wariness as he grins. "I'd kill for some klah right now, K'ane. If you wouldn't mind pouring it out for me, I'd greatly appreciate it." Sinking back a bit more comfortably in the chair, enjoying a slouch that he's not been allowed for more than a week, and sighs with relief. "So how has the Weyr been doing? Any pirates been captured?" He's so out of the loop on exactly what's going on he's willing to take gossip instead of cold hard facts if that's all he can get.

"Thankfully, y'don't have t' kill anyone for this," K'ane returns with a flashed grin to K'lir. He sure does pour the other a cup, too, with a mind to how the weyrsecond takes it. K'ane's got a good memory like that, even if his player doesn't. The weyrlingmaster delivers it to K'lir, settles down in the chair one over. "I haven't been seein' too much of it," he admits about the state of the weyr. "We're right in the thick of ::between::, an' it's taking all of my effort to keep this group straight. They're good kids, but it's a handful just like anything else." Taking a sip of klah, and: "An' you? How's," he gestures vaguely. HOW'S LIFE, K'lir.

K'lir grins at the older man and accepts the cup as it is offered, a long inhalation of the scent taken before an equally long swallow of the hot beverage follows the resulting sigh. "Oh, thank Faranth … that's good. Thank you too, K'ane. It's just the way I like it." He listens to the news and grimaces slightly at the mention of being in ::between:: lessons though he doesn't recall any comments from his bronze about bad envisioning so he can nod understandingly. "I can understand that. Bryn has taken a few hours to sit out in the bowl and watch your crew working. He seems to like what he sees." Gesturing to the small plate of pastries, he invites the weyrlingmaster to help himself as he takes one of the lemon sweets for himself since the cook has remembered they are his favorites. "Hmm, well … outside of being confined to the immediate area of the infirmary things are pretty good. Arianne and Kulari have moved into the groundweyr with me until I'm allowed to go back to our weyr which won't be for another sevenday or so." The bronzerider sighs and scrubs a hand through his shaggy hair leaving it more mussed than it was before. "I just can't believe I let that mountain fall on me." Okay, it was only a quarter of the cliff — but still!

"You're welcome," K'ane returns, leaning back in the chair and allowing a breath to ease out of him. Stress relief. K'ane can has it! "They ain't bad," he comments again to the weyrlings. "Just got some confidence issues in a coupla them, but that'll work itself out." His mouth assumes a rough line momentarily: "One way or th' other." The big man hones in on another lemon-filled pastry shamelessly, taking a bite in silence for K'lir's explanation of what's up in his life. "Well, t'least y'got Ari an' th' baby with you. It's a great time, ain't it? When they're too little to talk back." K'ane's face creases in a broad, roughly charmed smile, nostalgic. "You'll be back 'n at it before y'know it, th' mountain be damned."

Nodding in agreement K'lir offers a faint expression of sympathy for the weyrlingmaster, knowing the man is right that any issues will be worked out in some fashion before they group is tapped into the wings. "I think we all had confidence issues when it came to ::between:: … big, dark, cold nothingness that we were expected to go into? I know I wasn't the only one that needed new pants after the first time we jumped." This far into the future he doesn't mind making that admission, at least not to the weyrlingmaster. He chuckles softly as the older man takes one of the lemon pastries as well, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he nods again. "It really is. I didn't get to spend much time with the twins at this age since I was out and about trying to earn my keep for the Weyr. It's amazing how they get under your skin, isn't it?" He grins and can feel a faint blush warming his cheeks, his head ducking slightly as he realizes that the man is correct — he'll probably go climb the mountain that fell on him just to prove that he can.

"Yeah." K'ane half-smiles at the mention of first-between, still caught nostalgic perhaps, given that crook of his mouth. "More'n that, though. Just gotta find some of their spines, an' then it'll all work out, I reckon." MAYBE. If he can find them. Somewhere. "They burrow under there quick. Like little heart-suckin' parasites," K'ane's voice is fondly affectionate on the issue of spawnage. "Then they get older 'n start talkin' back t' you and all y' wanna do is go whup their asses." His grin brightens, roguish, doubling again when the other man blushes and ducks his head.

"Ahh, it's like that, eh?" K'lir asks, lifting his head as that blush starts to fade again though his expression is still rather amused. "What was it you kept telling us? About if we weren't scared the dragon wouldn't be scared? It clicked with us … eventually. Hopefully it will with them too." He coughs softly to clear his throat when he inadvertently inhales a bit of klah when he tries to drink and laugh at the same time. "Heart-sucking parasites … yeah, they are at that. Hope Arianne doesn't catch me calling the baby that because I most likely will now that it's in my head." He chuckles softly as he thinks about the high-jinx his twins get up to and nods. "Don't I know it but every time they'll look at you with those eyes and that innocent smile and you just can't, hmm?"

"This time 'round, I think I need t' be coaching th' dragons on th' fear issue," K'ane comments, his voice droll and dry. His laugh rumbles out into the nighthearth again when K'lir jumps on the bandwagon to make 'heart-sucking parasites' the latest name for the average infant. "Aye, well, don't blame it on me. Woman's scary." He winks overtly to show he kids - Arianne's a sweetheart! - and twines his fingers amongst his cup handle, dangling the mug while his eyes focus softly out into the unseeing distance, no doubt speaking to his lifemate. He listens, too. "I got over it quick with Aikari. She could look so sweet then call y' an asshole t' your face. Tan their asses no matter how cute th' face — that's my advice." K'ane all Old Testament and shit.

K'ane's droll tone earns a grin and nod of understanding. "Well, maybe it'll be a bit easier that way … even with the short memories." He shrugs slightly, not sure how the older man will manage to pass that understanding along. The wink and comment about the other's daughter makes him laugh aloud, the sound not as grating as it has been now that his ribs don't hurt as much. "I promise, she'll not hear I got it from you." His eyes glitter at the weyrlingmaster as that bit of advice is offered, his laughter softening to a rumbling chuckle. "I'm sure if I give Kalira a couple more Turns, she'll be doing the same … her brother will probably follow in her footsteps too, just because." He already knows from the nannies that his twins are cheeky little buggers despite the pair behaving around their father.

"Aye. I'm lucky t'have sired my set on Jedi. She keeps them in check far better than I could ever do myself," he quietly states, undisguised warmth infiltrating his Istan-accented baritone for the brownrider in question. His eyes unfocus again, and with a sigh, the man creaks to his feat. "I'm afraid I have t' leave you t' your healer-murderers," the bronzerider comments to K'lir, shooting a sympathetic grin downwards to the pillow-propped man: "I've got a tangled blue in th' traiing grounds." He takes a sip of his klah and then points a finger at K'lir, wagging it in mock-admonition: "Feel better, now, y'hear?" And with that said, K'ane heads towards the door. He takes his klah with him, unsurprisingly.