Who

Mayte, D'wane

What

Mayte catches up with D'wane, and so does his shelf-breaking ways.

Where Thieves Thieve Things Thievely (but not while Mayte's around)

When

It is 6:26 PM where you are.
It is evening of the nineteenth day of the third month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

The Stores

OOC Date 13 Feb 2018 07:00

 

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The Stores

A vast and sprawling cavern, the main storage area of the weyr is well-tended by the loving and stern hands of those who oversee the bounty stored within. Depending on the time of day, it is a place of illuminated neatness, stacks of dry goods and foodstuffs labeled clearly… or it is a place of werelight and stygian darkness that taunts those who would dare challenge the depths thereof.


A few thefts here, a little petit larceny there. Normally this wouldn't be the type of thing that makes its way all the way up to the Weyrsecond, but well… when it's Laevia's favorite spatula that went missing, that's the sort of thing that gets noticed. Or at least it's the sort of excuse that D'wane seized to have him be in one of the least likely places ever! All the more improbable for certain goldriders to find him, right? D'wane's totally not hiding deep in the depths of Southern's store rooms, with all sorts of large cutlery splayed out in front of him. He's got a clipboard and pen ready and tallying he goes and some of those slotted spoons are sorted over. He picks up another spoon with holes in it and stops to just ponder.

The thing about running from Mayte is, Rhiscorath. The goldrider has been notably less visible (or less audible) for a little while, and the rumour has been that a cold bug has laid her low. But the respite is over and Mayte has started to take an interest in more than how many handkerchiefs she can send back to the laundry for cleaning which means those little thievy buggers are on her radar. As well as some other incidents; Rocketh might find it curious how suddenly Rhiscorath has suddenly closed up the library early for the night. The Librarian is Out. And now a soft shuffle of footsteps into the Stores, a very very brief sniffle… and from around the corner springs Mayte! "Aha! What are you doing, D'wane?" As if suddenly even the bronzerider's name is suspect. Mayte is the epitome of self-satisfaction. Case cracked and closed.

And clink, clink, clink goes all those carefully sorted spoons now get all mixed up. Look what you made D'wane do, Mayte! There was at least a fledging form of order and now it's back to anarchy. The bronzerider straightens up a little bit, and look like he's not just been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. And since he was seated doing his counting, the weyrwoman gets to be the one doing the looming. He'll just look up from his clipboard. "Well, I was doing an inventory. Spoons have been going missing if you haven't heard." Spoons or spatulas. Who is counting?

Anarchy, Mayte's favourite ice cream. Fists on hips, the goldrider scowls at D'wane, "Riiiiight, an inventory." The healers have cleared her for being out in public, right? Or they gave up. "Also, those are slotted spoons," because contrary is her default, "which are a cooking utensil, whereas spoons are an eating utensil. Of course I've heard about the missing spoons, which is why it's interesting that you're looking at one instead of the other." Oh Mayte can loom even if you're standing up; it's called Short Goldrider Syndrome (it sounds better than Tiny Bitch Attitude).

D'wane just shrugs. "Take it up with the headwoman? She's the one who asked…" Although she probably didn't expect him to actually go about scouring the stores for any possible hidden spatulas himself. "I have a description!" He might not get the word right, but there is a bit of a sketch of a spatula on the top page. He'll try to pick up one more of the utensils to make sure it goes in the right pile. And a tick mark goes next to the category of 'the long spoons with holes.'

Mayte's eyes narrow at D'wane, "Fine, I will." That the tall man has a description has her eyes brighten a bit until she inspects… the description. "A spatula," Mayte says flatly, "That's a spatula." The 'you fool' is a silent vowel appended to the end of that and for a moment, Mayte pulls back to eye D'wane critically from head to toe, which takes less time because he's seated. "Did you know," she starts off on a totally different tack and if there was enough room between the racks of equipment in the stores, Mayte would be pacing a little, "that Rhiscorath roused me out of bed a while ago, because her books were… out of order?"

To be fair to D'wane, it is a very big pile of general utensils over there. He may have planned to be here for at least a couple hours. There may have been spatulas hiding in there somewhere. Unfortunately considering turns of candidates have left the existing utensil storage to be more of just throw it all together and pray to find it later than any real system. "You poke things with it, right?" D'wane does a lot of eating, but clearly he hasn't been doing much cooking. He's going to very obviously NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT about the statement the books. "Yeah… there were the faulty bookshelves, right?" faulty

Admittedly, D'wane and Mayte seem to be on the same scale when it comes to 'how to make dinner' but it's only a small pause of uncertainty: "Of course you do. Food, specifically!" As for her bookshelves, Mayte glowers: "They were as faulty as your spatula excuse," she tells him, "I specifically had the Woodsmiths reinforce it for the weight of my books and memorabilia!" Pausing, Mayte massages the skin between her eyebrows (that specific place where Mom tells you you'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning Like That). "And then, I come in to find my books out of place, and some of my wine awards are missing!" Whether those were on that actual shelf or not is left uncertain.

D'wane clearly doesn't poke any food with any spatula seeing as Laevia had to actually give him a sketch of the thing before sending him on his way to look for it. He looks like he's about try and defend himself about spatula ruse but then she's throwing more accusations out before he can do more than start to form a word. Luckily, there is that pause and he'll seize the moment. "And those woodsmiths are going to be making you a better bookshelf. A bigger bookshelf. To hold more books. And stuff. But the weight of a single firelizard really shouldn't cause a bookshelf to collapse like that!" Where is the misbehaving firelizard in question now? Probably off trying to find something else shiny to steal.

The promise of a bigger and better bookshelf isn't enough to assuage Mayte, busy gathering steam for a full-on rant: "I don't want a better bookshelf! I want my books as they were! Some of their covers have bends in them! And my wine awards!" A pause and Mayte's eyes fully light up, the possibility of shouting at someone who won't cry or break dawning on her: "A firelizard? Your firelizard broke my shelf?" In the quiet of the Stores, Mayte is thunder and lightning without the six seconds' count between, "You let your firelizard play with my books and my things?"

Who says D'wane won't cry or break? He might just end up crying big manly tears alone in his weyr after this… but what Mayte doesn't see, she doesn't know! Unless the evidence was left in the middle of her office to find. He does stand up at this point because really, it's awkward being yelled down at. The mountain of a man isn't used to it. He'll stand, at a rather formal parade rest. He was wingsecond to K'vvan. Yelling he can deal with. "I didn't let the firelizard do anything. I was stopping him. and then… poof." The parade rest is broken because he really does have to demonstrate with his hands that the shelf just broke JUST LIKE THAT. "I didn't think to make sure 'absolutely under no circumstances go near any of the weyrwoman's things' until after it was too late." Some rules get made after disaster happens, right?

Mayte'll just add that to her collection of underlings' tears. "You didn't stop him enough!" she yells back, no matter that D'wane's a full foot higher and about two or three times as wide. The demonstration doesn't help the Weyrsecond's argument very well: "You'd better make sure he doesn't enter my offices again," she says, her voice dropping to 'low tone, high possibility of pain' octave, "especially since I need some new bookshelves," wait, how many did D'wane's firelizard destroy? "and you're just the man for the job!"

Was that one of the 'awards' that D'wane supposedly broke? The tears of her vanquished foes? D'wane's back at parade rest, nodding along. Clearly he didn't stop the firelizard soon enough or they wouldn't be having this very conversation. But he has a plan. "Damn thing isn't allowed anywhere inside that isn't my weyr." Mostly muttered, but true enough. Mayte should not be seeing a Peeble unless she's frequenting the beach. Or well, D'wane's weyr is probably an unlikely place for her to end up anytime soon… He does blink once, twice, three times in confusion at what was just declared. "Bookshelves. So you don't want the smiths making them?" He's not exactly protesting, just clarifying

Mayte probably actually has those in her weyr so she can look at them when she wakes up each day. Peeble's sentence to house arrest has her glaring at D'wane like she isn't sure what she heard but that next part, Mayte hears perfectly, a devious little smile playing at one side of her mouth: "Yes, Weyrsecond. Bookshelves. I need bookshelves, and the perfect person to replace them is the person who broke them in the first place!" Nevermind the bad logic. "I expect you after drills tomorrow morning in my office, D'wane. The Smiths will supply the goods, and you will supply the expertise." Give or take some years of experience. Imperiously, Mayte draws herself up, her frigid demeanor broken only when she eyes the pile of kitchenware next to him: "And clean up those spoons! Spatulas. Whatever!" Whirling on her heel in a nearly perfectly executed military turn, Mayte stomps out, no longer secret spy she came in as.

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