Midmorning might be a little early for drinks, but Max has never been one for custom or accord. She perches herself on a stool glass in one hand and a dart in the other squinting at the board, a long day of drills and a rough sniff as the dart sails to thunk in the wall beside the board.

As a rule, M'tej is not here, and certainly not a bar at all during the day. But this day, he is. The place is largely empty when he walks in, and he pauses for a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Perhaps it was deliberate, that he came somewhere he's not known any more than the statement his knot makes. Perhaps it was simply the convenience and the promise of a quick repast. Or perhaps hunger; M'tej makes his way to the bar, near where Max is, and orders a bowl of whatever soup is on, in back, and a klah to pass the time. Once the brief entertainment of the server has disappeared, M'tej turns to watch the nearby woman with the darts. He doesn't have any particular advice, but the green lizard who perches on his shoulder loops off to do her own circuit, avoiding the dartboard at a surreptitious cough from the swarthy man she looks to. "Sorry. Morning." That, to Max.

"Mm, is it?" She notes, looking at her drink with a deep exhale. Another dart sails and thunks hard into the board. "Dragons were keening again." She murmurs, lifting the glass to her lips to wet them. "Don't be; I would actually prefer the company." A small smirk crossing her lips. "This is what we are, it's what we do, we fly knowing the risks, and yet. when they keen, It still hits me like this sometimes." She smiles, "Sorry, I shouldn't ruin your breakfast with my melancholy."

"Yeah. We heard." 'We' including Temyrth, who is sitting on the bottom of the lake, likely, where he takes refuge from dragon keening, after he's paid tribute himself. "Lunch. Or in the middle. Yeah. We got an early lunch; no one wanted to deal with this." It was, rumor has it, one of the sorely wounded riders who'd sustained Threadfall injuries earlier in the seven. She died. Her dragon went *between*. The whole Weyr heard it. M'tej's indrawn breath is audible and he'll nod thanks to the server, for the klah. "I'm M'tej. Brown Temyrth. Whirlwind. I don't think I've met you, but you were with us when we went into that hole in the ground. And you've a blue, chased R'em's green?"

Max sighs, "Sad thing is she was one of the best." lifting the glass again. "I'm in your wing M'tej." She flashes a smirk, "But I am quite forgettable. Farnath that fucking flight, you weren't the one I manhandled back to the tent… because if so I am really, really sorry. Max of Blue Bamfth, we transferred in from Benden a turn ago."

"No ma'am. And I thank you for your dragon's win. I do love R'em to death, but not that way. He's a nice kid." M'tej's grin is quick, "And you're right. I should have known that. I'm not usually accused of being the most social of sorts." M'tej's voice is a low bass, his accent not easily ascribed to any particular region, and his dress hopelessly practical while just being within the requirements for Whirlwind. His hair is 'man-bunned' to the regulation length. He offers a hand over to Max, then, "Welcome. Belatedly. Igen treating you well?" The two are over by the bar, though facing the dartboard. A green lizard comes back from a circuit to land possessively on M'tej's shoudler.

A shadow looms over the entrance briefly as a bulky brown touches down just long enough for his rider to drop to the ledge. The shadow disappears as D'kan strides in, loaded with gear which be begins to systematically leave in a neat pile off to the side. Last of all, he shrugs out of his flight jacket, folds it, and drops it on top, only then looking around the place, nodding in generic greeting, then approaching the bar where he proceeds to help himself to a bottle of whisky, splashing a couple fingers' worth into a glass. Formerly of Whirlwind, but gone for upwards of a Turn, he's unlikely to be that familiar a face. Now that he's nearer M'tej and Max, though, he gives a second, slightly more familiar nod of greeting, then proceeds to sip his whisky.

Max offers a nod to the brownrider as he strides in. "Worst flight - ever." Max laments, lifting her glass again and sending another dart sailing on the board. Max flashes a wide smile then at D'kan. "Long time no see."

"D'kan!" M'tej responds, turning to set his klah mug down and offer his hand in a firm grip, "How've you been? We've sure missed having Kazavoth on our team." -This from the same guy who didn't know Bamfth had joined the 'team'. M'tej is evidently selectively aware of dragons. Browns, he's aware of! "You going to come back? Thread's been bad…" Really thinned the ranks. The swarthy Oldtimer retrieves his mug after the offer of a shake, and glances over to Max, "I have no doubt. I'm sure it sucked for R'em, as well. I haven't had a chance to talk to him." M'tej, in fact, intends to have a talk with R'em for the stupid stunt that got the youth captured in the underground cave in the first place.

"So I've heard," D'kan replies to Max as he slouches sideways against the edge of the bar, watching the dart fly. "Kazavoth's already gone off to join the others for now." He shakes M'tej's hand, then lifts his glass toward the other two before taking another sip. "We'll rejoin you next time, maybe. Haven't even had time to send a note off to the weyrleader. V'ard now, I heard?" His question is in his usual, unobtrusive tone, though, all too happy to listen to their conversation, too.

"Mr. Moustacheau yes," Max affirms. with a wry twist of her lips, "This time, they managed to cause a scene right in the Caravan Grounds." The bluerider smirks. "You back for good then? We really could use Kazavoth in the wings. Bamfth at his best can only hold out half a flight, and with the falls we have had over the last few months." Her glass is emptied with a scowl.

"Good to hear it." M'tej echos Max's assertion about the brownpair rejoining, with a nod and another sip of klah. He, too, is happy in the sit-and-listen venue, but he will offer, "There's a lot of openings on the wings, unfortunately. And we have Junior Weyrlings right now, and a new clutch on the way. It's a target-rich environment, where you might get put. A lot of wounded." Way too many dead. "I heard tell that Southern's having a hard time even finding Candidates, and they have a huge clutch. I suspect we'll have a big one too; the queens know we need replacements."

D'kan nods a couple times in answer to Max's question, then a last slower one, agreeing with the last bit. "I felt bad we couldn't return sooner. Had to wait for a replacement, though. Lemos can't afford any more losses right now, either. Telgar came through, though. And so…" He gestures toward the pile of gear he left moments before. Unpacking can clearly wait. "Any good weyrlings?" he asks M'tej, though his eyes fall to the Whirlwind knot a second later. He frowns briefly, then a little more deeply. "I hadn't heard about Southern."

"Burrow takes hold there it puts the Woodcraft hall in a sorry spot." She agrees, refilling the glass and falling quiet as M'tej is asked about the weyrlings, in favor of nursing her drink.

"I haven't watched this last crop." M'tej answers D'kan. I really like some from Zsaviranth's last clutch, but they're all full riders a good while now. One is already a wingsecond in Parhelion. But we lost a few of them right off, once they graduated." He considers, "I was AWLMing for that clutch. Diem asked me to. But after we lost those… I took a break. And now…I feel like we're needed in the wings more. There's so many wounded dragons, they and their riders could serve as AWLMs while they recover and we who are able-bodied need to be in the fighting wings, I think." M'tej often has ideas. He usually keeps them to himself, unless specifically asked. "Couple candlemarks ago, we lost another rider. Dragon went *Between*. Otherwise we Whirlwinders wouldn't be sitting here in the middle of the morning. Poor V'ard - he's got a helluva job ahead of him, with fewer and fewer riders every seven."

"There's bound to be eggs on the sands again any day now. I worry about the green ones though, with the way these falls have been." Though whether that is a good thing or bad thing in Max's view seems unclear. "You want help unpacking later?" She offers to D'kan, before falling quiet again.

D'kan nods once to Max in agreement, then lifts the bottle of whisky, gesturing with it to see if she'd like a refill. Either way, he tops up is how drink before setting the bottle aside again. He gives M'tej a surprised look, asking, "Parhelion?" for whatever reason. He swirls the dark liquid in his glass a couple times, then takes a slow sip before going back to his lean against the bar. He keeps quiet while the other brownrider finishes, then replies, "It's been such a bad Turn for that. A couple Weyrs seem to be holding strong, but…" He trails off wit ha grimace, then knocks back the rest of his whisky.

Wordlessly, M'tej offers his klah for a slug of D'kan's whiskey. "R'xim is in charge of Parhelion now. And he picked a greenrider, Eala, to be his second there. One of the Weyrlings that I helped with." M'tej nods, adds, "The wing's focus, when not fighting Thread, is to try to get the guard units better trained and equipped. We lost quite a few Whirlies to Parhelion, when G'tan reorganized." He reaches to rub his beard lightly with work-coarse fingers. "They fly well, but are basically doing a lot of double-duty - both the guard-training and the Threadfalls. I don't envy them."

Max accepts the offer of a refill eagerly. "Who knows what will change under V'ard though," She adds with a slant of her mouth. "And right after G'tan poached T'ral from southern." For mention of the double duties max frowns. "Can't say I envy them.

D'kan gives the other two a contemplative couple nods as he takes in the new intel. He sets down his empty glass, though he doesn't quiet let go of it yet, apparently undecided as to whether or not he's actually done. "An interesting choice," he muses quietly, adding a moment later, "an interesting several choices, really." He picks up his glass again, but only to grab a rag to clean it out. Ah, Last Call. It's set down with the other just as questionably clean glasses off to the side. "I bet Kazavoth would like that one, but after sitting and watching others fly Thread for a Turn, I'll probably see if we can rejoin Whirlwind."

"We're happy with Whirlwind, and I've never had an issue with V'ard." M'tej has relaxed into his position here at Igen. He draws in a breath and considers, "Alright, Max. I think our break is likely up. D'kan, you need anything from us, have Kazavoth bespeak Temyrth." The brownrider finishes his klah and sets the cup on the bar, before standing into a stretch and glancing outside. Temyrth's lean shadow already casts across the entrance, as the lupine brown backwings to the exceedingly narrow ledge, awaiting his lifemate. "Good to see you again, D'kan. Well met, Max." They both get a grin, before M'tej turns to stride out.