Chores done, lessons finished- save for those assigned to work with the Starcrafter this eve- the barracks are growing gradually more rowdy as candidates filter in. It isn't quite bursting at the seams yet, some youngsters still at table or scraping work grit off their skins in the baths, but give it time. If you Search them, they will come. In the corner, one of the older girls has a circle of the youngest around her, sprawled on floor, rugs, cushions and cots, the lot of them listening to their elder tell the story of the Boy Who Called Wher. Over there, a couple of shifty-eyed boys plucked from the Bazaar discuss something in low, buzzing tones that fall silent whenever another candidate walks by. And here, in an aisle between this bunk and that, Safid is stripped down to shorts and a sleeveless undershirt to perform his evening exercises. One would think chores would be enough but the man has worked up another sweat as he perches on toes and palms, arms levering himself up and down, up and down, to a panted count of, "…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…"

Threvobek only recently passed through the threshold late though actual chores were completed just before supper. Evidence pulled from his hair and general multifacted aroma prove he was catching up with the status of the stables, his former habitat. A ceramic jar, pulled from under his bed and containing neutrally scented grease, is pinned between his knees. A green, small, is beckoned with a thought and Iscah comes. Now that that routine's been started Rev's attentions wander to the barracks at large, and they so happen to fall on Safid's plank shape. "Old habits die hard eh?" Rumors swirl around the man and the effort wasn't yet made to decide which of them are true.

Jaelynn has spent most of her day like the others, lost in chores, busy with lessons and then there is the talk of some Starcrafter lessons later on, which she is actually rather interested in. Her cot isn't to far from the story telling, though also not to far from a set of other cots, where one has Safid and the other has Threvobek. She peeks up curiously hearing the question from Threvobek, though she doesn't give them her full attention as a little bronze firelizard is busy nipping at her fingers wanting the bit of food she was holding onto. A soft ouch escapes her before the lizard gets what he was after and is busy chewing on the bit of meat.

Finn's entrance into the barracks is quiet, strange for that, the young smith-Candidate given to big gestures and easy laughter. He makes his way through the racks and Candidates about their activities, exercise, repose, a smile for those who'd found Trill's clutch as he moves along to his rack and flounces, thoughts drawn in dark cloak around him.

The count continues, on and on, from twenty-five all the way through thirty. It can be safely assumed that through this count, Safid doesn't deign to give Threvobek an answer- his breath is reserved for other things than speech. After though, after he's wedged a knee up and pushed off to settle back with rear perched on raised heels, he tilts level regard towards the younger male. Just that at first, a hooded stare and a sense of contemplation- of answer, of Threvobek himself- before he says, "Good habits die easy." His hand sweeps out to pluck the scrap of terrycloth laid on the bunk before he'd begun, reeling it in to scrub over his face. From behind that moving barrier, he adds, "Like bathing. That's a good habit."

Not to be overlooked, Valmai, Threvobek's older brown, orbits his caretaker until he too can be oiled. Iscah's status is compliant which will make the process smoother for everyone. "Need some after?" Rev blindly asks Jaelynn, also the recipient of Trill spawn. Speaking of which… "Eve Finn— you've got that look and I'm looking away." If misery loves company, keep looking. In fairness, it doesn't seem he truly shuns the smith, just won't attempt to yet inquire. "Stay upwind." Rejoinder to Safid casual, focus centered on the tissue between the firelizard's spars.

Jaelynn catches bits of the conversation, though she isn't one to offer much in the way of some comment just yet it seems. The bronze is given a slight pet to the head and she peers at it curiously. "I think you got bigger then yesterday.." Is that possible? She peeks up hearing Threvobek at the offer of the oil. "Actually, yes. I used up all I had for him this morning. He was really itchy and such." A faint glance is sent to Safid and then back to Threvobek at the talk one staying up wind.

"Easier said than done, when there's no wind." There's no bite in the answer from Safid though, making it either simple observation or a joke that borders on dry enough to cure meat. There's no sign of his own little freshly hatched brown but there is a suspicious lump in the center of the pillow that decorates the man's cot. A lump that, if one listens closely, emits a whistling little snore on occasion. "Was it yours up half the night complaining?" This could be for Jaelynn- he does glance towards the girl- or it could be for Rev. He leaves it to them to duke it out for title of recipient, while he pulls himself up onto his cot to sit. The towel ends draped over the back of his neck, left to dangle.

Iscah's a small beast and Threvobek has the oiling practice to par back time investment. A small gob will see Valmai through thus the cannister is passed on to Jaelynn. "Keep what you want, it's easy enough to manufacture." His brown will be almost a paint job, filling in what dry spots he possesses like wielding wall spackle. Their arid conditions tend to do a number on any form of flesh. "Couldn't tell ye, I was sleeping after my head hit the pillow. You sure it was a 'lizard and not some sod missing home?" Hazel eyes range to Jaelynn, stating for the record, "no offense."

Jaelynn smiles to Threvobek and nods to him while leaning over to take hold of the canister. "Thanks a lot for sharing." She offers while glances to Safid and she blinks at the question before looking to Ahote, the bronze tilts his head and croons out at the appearance of the oil. "I don't think so I'm pretty sure he was sleeping." She ponders the idea for a few moments though and smirks a touch before shaking her head as she hears Threvobek. "No offense taken." She goes about getting a bit of the oil on her fingers and works on rubbing it across the young lizard's head and neck. Ahote sits nice a straight like fully enjoying the attention it seems.

Safid tilts to the side to snare the corner of the pillow. It's pulled closer and he completes the trio of proud parenting by reaching inside to extricate the lump that's taken to a sudden screechy flailing at being disturbed. The brown removed from that nest is deposited on his shoulder, where it clings to his ear and shrills displeasure. "Sounded more like this," he remarks, tapping the critter atop its tiny head and winning a brief reprieve from all of the noise- not to mention demonstrating how discipline can be maintained, even with the newborn. Then he's up, shifting off the cot and padding towards barracks exit. "Time enough for a soak before the stars come out," he comments on his way. Helpful like.

Second neck ridge, a hind inner toe, little stippling on his back, and Valmai's ready to avoid scorching another day. Hell, then there're Eldoon and Krisser's flock to oil (long story, lost bet). "You've got the right idea," deciding Safid's decision should be a trend he should follow, "but Jaelynn love, I'm gonna need that oil again." Two blues and a brown en route. See how competent this candidate group is?