The dinner rush is over! Finally! And all that is left to be done is the mountain of dishes left behind by satisfied diners. But before Naneska lends her efforts to that Herculean task, she's going to take a moment and linger over dessert. SHE'S EARNED IT! Still warmed from the ovens and the chaos she's settled upon one of the benches, close to a terracotta chiminea, with a fancy looking oven dish in one hand, and a goodly sized spoon in the other. Slowly teasing tiny nibbles of the sweet goodness onto her spoon and into her mouth she looks about idly.

After spending a considerable about of turns in your prime in one of the least savory places in Igen, it's almost baffling how amazing things smell when you're well away from it. Sheridan slowly makes his way across the courtyard, knowing those dishes are waiting for their scrubbing. Naturally, he's in no rush at all. The young man opens his mouth to speak but pauses, eyeing what Naneska has in her hands. Instead, he reaches up and manually closes his jaw by pressing up on his chin, sidling closer and closer until he's outside of swinging rage. Naneska is wielding a spoon, afterall! "Whatcha liberated from the kitchens?" HRM?

Naneska's eyes fair gleam with triumph, even as she wriggles that spoon in greeting. "Bread n' butter puddin'." And if he's a good boy, she'll even tilt that oven dish to show that it is about half full. PLENTY TO SHARE (was she going to eat it all herself? Where does she put it?). "If ye get yerself a spoon, I might even be persuaded t' share." The dishes can wait, this pudding is serious with golden caramelized bits of bread and little nuggets of dried fruit. She's even managed a generous dollop of cream. It smells amazing because it is amazing!

"Get myself a spoon?" he says mournfully, letting his shoulders sag a bit as he peers over with a pout. It does look absolutely appetizing, though. Sheridan straightens up, kneading his knuckles as he peers over to the kitchens. His eyes shift from side to side and he even chews the edge of his lip in thought. Can the man truly make it in, acquire a spoon without being seen, and make it back outside unscathed to some delicious pudding? "Sounds dangerous." Pudding is dangerous! Dangerous pudding. It should come with a warning label.

"I'm not sharin' mine." Naneska informs him with a shrug, and the beginnings of a cheeky smile. "If any one gives ye bother, jist say 'Nan said.' " All those longing glances towards the entrance of the kitchens giving away his conundrum. "I'm Nan. Naneska." She pokes a thumb at her chest before teasing another bite from her bounty. "Ye best be quick! Chop chop!" It's almost as if she is enjoying the conflict her dangerously delicious temptation is creating as much as the temptation it self. "Mmm, it's soogood." Just in case he needs the extra incentive.

"Naneska," he says, slowly nodding his head as his mission becomes clearer by the second. That evil pudding, so fluffy and so sweet smelling! The wind betraying his senses by lending a gentle tease with every gust. "I'm Sheridan and if I don't make it back alive, you can say I fought valiantly for my Sweet… And I guess you, of course." The young man grins and offers Naneska a wink before he quickly strides outside of the kitchen entrance, standing close to the wall as he takes in the scene and the movement of people around him. He's looking hopeful, then quickly ducking back with a scowl. What's left of the puddin' has his name on it! Maybe. Could just be crumbs.

Naneska chuckles, low and under her breath. "They don't bite, Sheridan. But I shall compose a lay to thee, braveheart, should ye not make it back in one piece." What kind of woman is totally okay with the exchange of endearments so soon in a relationship? This one apparently! Naneska is probably the only one that does bite, and she's currently under the same restrictions that he is. "Pop in, grab a spoon and git yer ass out." Yes, she's back-seat 'borrowing', but there is still plenty of pudding in her dish, if there is none left in the kitchens, and candidates gotta stick together right?

Easier said than done! Sheridan takes the chance, though, as he slips in and is only gone for a moment. He has a spoon! A clean one. Though the way he quickly strides behind Naneska with a hand resting on his own chest, panting while eyes scan the way he came a bit. "Getting a spoon from the kitchens shouldn't feel like a moonless night in the bazaar. The things Candidacy does to a man. Definitely puts into perspective how out of touch I am with things… Like that pudding. Please tell me there's some left." You wouldn't leave your fellow Candidate without the sweet stuff, would you?

Naneska grins, and holds aloft the prize! Sweet sticky pudding! "There's plenty! But ye should be quick." Because now that he has a spoon, she suspects that there won't be much for long. Companionably she pats the bench beside her, that way she doesn't have to hold the oven dish up, and they can both satisfy their desire… FOR BREAD AND BUTTER PUDDING! "'Tis only as scary as ye make it yeah?" She adds conversationally, she's talking about both kitchen and bazaar. "Ye a merchant?" As a trader it's her logical assumption.

Sheridan carefully takes a spoonful of the pudding and he savors the morsel, tilting his head back while he just enjoys the flavor. "You know, little by little, I'm getting my taste back. I couldn't taste food before, now it's like meeting someone you fell in love with all over again. Only, you can eat them and not get locked up for it." Well, that's one way to put things. He takes another small spoonful and glances back over to Naneska. "Of sorts. I used to work the Middens. You know, make sure it all stays in the Middens. The weyr sure knows where to dump their garbage… and uh, other baggage." Things.

Shuffling steps announce Eanraig's arrival, his stride stunted by distraction as he attempts to both read and walk at the same time. There's a deep furrow to his brow which suggests he's not doing so well with the former, and his awkward gait doesn't say much for his ability to keep up with the latter. The faint awareness that there's a conversation going on about the middens draws his attention and the young man looks up, only to stare around his surroundings in confusion. "This isn't the bazaar…" So, it's definitely a 'no' on that ability to walk and read at the same time. "Hey." Now that he's here, it seems an awkward greeting is in order.

Naneska giggles this time. "Ye did a shit job o' it." Ba-dah-dum-tish! "I've furtled about the place a time or two." Delightful dinner conversation: Check! "Once I found a ladies ring scrunched up in some radish leaves." She knows the truth of what gets sent to the middens! It also means she's not likely to disdain him for his former occupation. "Bet the chores n' lessons don't measure up at all." She adds conversationally. "I'm… I was a trader. From Bitra originally, and that…" She uses her spoon to gesture at the gloopy goodness. "Is love! It's me gran's secret recipe. It's like being wit' her, without eatin' her." There is a wink for her fellow candidate, because she gets what he's saying, although it is a bit creepy. Clearly these two are no strangers to awkward, seeing as their conversation is all about the middens and loving cannibalism. "No, ye've made ye way t' the kitchens. Grab a spoon!" That's Naneska for 'HAI' right on back to the book-reading teen.

"You heard the wielder of divine sweets, get in there and get yourself a spoon otherwise you're going to miss out on this amazing plate. Nice to meet you…?" Did he miss the name? Pudding. Sheridan glances back over to Naneska with a grin, holding the spoon in his mouth for a moment before pulling it back out. Can't have it covered in drool or anything like that. "I've found some jewelry. Mostly paperwork, though for some reason, it's all tightly bundled in layers as if people aren't wanting it to get ruined but they stick it in the Midden of all places. Sometimes I see people coming late at night to retrieve things they've lost." Shoes, a favorite jacket. Maybe a quality kitchen utensil that could no way have been used for MURDER. Perhaps it was used for a salad. You never know!

If he's going to make a fool of himself by somehow wandering into the kitchen area instead of into the bazaar, Eanraig is at least going to make the most of it. He snaps the book shut, tucking the tome under his arm. "Really, I can have some?" He hasn't heard all the wonders of her gran's secret recipe, but those few words were more than enough for someone with a significant sweet tooth. "Oh, I've got a spoon." He flips the flap up on his belt pouch, reaching inside to pull out a rudimentary form of a multi-tool. It's no Swiss Army Knife, but it'll do the trick. "You know, to be prepared and all of that. And call me Ean." He holds up the spoon end of his odd little multi-tool, politely waiting his turn for a scoop of the good stuff. But when he gets it, "This is delicious. Did you make this?" There's an almost nervous edge to his cheerful energy, like a puppy who's waiting to be kicked out at any moment. "How often do you think people pick up someone else's lost stuff by accident?"

There will be no kicking of puppies on Nan's watch! Instead she shuffles over, all up in Sheridans personal space so that there is room for all three of them on the bench to gorge on deliciousness. That is if Eanraig doesn't mind the continuing midden conversation. "I'm Nan. This is… Dan." Yep, three letter names are ALL the rage! "Or Naneska and Sheridan." In case he wants their proper names instead of made up ones. "Aye. 'Lost'". She takes a moment to appropriately use the quote-y fingers, before digging in to the now crowded oven dish. "I wasn't pickin' up peoples stuff by accident!" She deliberately goes looking for stuff to find. "'N yes. I had kitchen rotation, so I thought I'd treat th' weyr." The multi-tool captures her attention now. "Ooh, where'd ye get one of those?" Because it is AWESOME!

Sheridan sends Nan a knowing gaze, laughing quietly before he turns to answer Ean. "I suppose the only way to find out is to watch them in the shadows and hope they don't see you. Which, was pretty easy. You start stinking like the place because it seems down into your bones so if you're upwind, they won't notice. Then, if you spend enough time in the bazaar, just wait and see. There's no telling what folks find, whether they intended on finding it or not. Though, I've seen a few poor youngin's thinking they're going to find something interesting end up running home to their mothers and if they had tails, they'd likely be between their legs the whole way back." Sheridan eyes the pudding and debates for a moment before he takes one last morsel for himself. Can't be hogging the wealth now. Please don't say the Middens for the fancy toolygig.

Eanraig will take that invitation, sliding onto the seat with a grateful, toothy smile sent Naneska's way. "Hey, Nan and Dan." He notes those full names, just in case. "You could also call me Eanraig." But don't, because Ean is so much easier! He takes another spoonful, mumbling some more (essentially incoherent) praise around a mouthful of pudding. "I didn't mean you, I just meant-" But he doesn't finish his explanation, because Sheridan is sharing strategies for midden-hunting and Eanraig's attention is captivated. It's a shame he only has that book tucked under his arm and nothing to write on. Spoon-contraption licked clean, he holds it up again. "This? I made it." The craftmanship certainly isn't that of an expert, but he at least makes for a competent amateur.

It doesn't matter what the craftsmanship is like, it is clever and compact and Naneska would find more than a few uses for it on the trail. "Ye ever feel like makin' another let me know." There is a cheeky smile as she is now surrounded by boys. "I'll give ye a pretty ladies ring." Surely that thing has been decontaminated by now? And what Eanraig does with it is entirely his business. There is another swoop at the pudding while she listens to the strategies for finding the 'good stuff' in the middens. "Who knew th' middens were so busy!" The trader exclaims, because there's a whole world there in the filth she had no idea about.

Ean is definitely much easier, both to say and to remember. Sheridan gravely nods his head, "Yep. It's simply teeming with life! Well, mainly of the seedy variety but when business is good, it's the best kind of life there is." You know what else is the best kind of life? The kind that doesn't get extra duty when you got a kitchen worker standing in the door way with arms across her chest and a scowl accentuated by what could be a shadow but might as well be a mustache. Welp. "Naneska, thank you for that memorable pudding, you're the sweetest there is. Ean, it's a pleasure meeting you and I hope to see more of your ingenuity so don't be a stranger. If you both will excuse me, I have some dishes to scrub. The things we do for love… of Pudding." Carefully, he rises off of the bench without disturbing the others and he takes his spoon back to the kitchens so it can have a nice hot little bubble bath with it's friends.

Ean's brows lift a little in surprise, but it's soon shrugged off with a brief lift of his shoulders. "Yeah, sure, I can do that." Just like that! "And as long as it's clean, I'll just give it to my little sister. She'd probably like it." He just won't tell her where it's from, because he's a great older brother. His gaze darts toward the doorway when Sheridan begins to make his goodbyes, his easygoing smile temporarily marred by a grimace. Yikes. "Good luck?" he offers uncertainly, pulling an 'uh oh' face in Naneska's direction. Hopefully Sheridan escapes the kitchen in one piece, eventually. "Are you from Bitra?" he asks after a moment, curiosity impossible to contain. His own brogue is a bit muddled by distance, but it's still there.

Naneska grins at the grumpy kitchen worker and wiggles her spoon. "Fare well my dumplin' til we meet again!" There is a dramatic faux-swoon even as she turns her attention back to the desert. She's a familiar face around these parts so she can get away with a little extra loitering. "I think I like him." But of course he was flattering her outrageously so there's no surprise there right? "Aye, sixteen turns born n' bred. But not wed!" Which is why she is here and not there! Letting slip that accent of hers to a gentler burr. "Easier to make a living if people think you're pretty and stupid yeah?" She shares because he is her country man, and she's feeling expansive. "It's clean. Can't sell it if it isn't. But I'm not goin' anywhere fer a while."

"Like him like him, or like him?" Eanraig feels a little dumb as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but look, most of his social interaction involves pestering people with questions. Smooth talking is not yet in his wheelhouse. With that bit of extra space on the bench, he sets the book aside, carefully ensuring that it isn't about to tumble into the dirt. "I was only there for nine or ten turns, something like that. Not wed, either!" There's a wry twist to his smile, because he knows very well that he was in no real danger of that even if he'd been there a full eighteen turns. "Yeah, but don't people sometimes treat you awful, too? Even if you're not acting stupid." People make a lot of snap judgement on that accent alone. "You don't have to give me anything. I'm happy to just make you one, since there's no rush."

"I'll let ye know when I've made up me mind." She gives a companionable wink, for that question and for the declaration of the single life. There is even a dip of her spoon for a pudding toast. "Some are made fer marriage, 'n some are not." She definitely counts herself in camp not. Taking a moment to enjoy that spoonful, she chews thoughtfully. "They'd treat me that way no matter what, I'm young and I'm female." She admits ruefully. "Can't see how pretendin' I'm not Bitran would help there." Although it would probably make her easier to understand. At the offer of a free handy-dandy multi-tool her nose wrinkles. "I may be Bitran, but I'm a honest one. If ye don't want th' ring. I'm sure I have somethin' packed away t' pay ye fer yer time." He may be a big brother, and not at all that much younger than the trader but if he's not careful he's about to be adopted. "I have brothers about yer age." Another spoonful is scooped up and devoured.

Eanraig laughs at that, easily reassured by the lack of mockery in Naneska's tone. "Keep me up to date, I don't want to miss out on the story." Of this epic romance that may or may not be brewing. "I'm hoping to get one of those knots," you know, the white ones, "so I'm pretty sure marriage isn't on the table anyway." It's not as though marriage worked out very well for his mother. He reaches for another spoonful, swallowing before he reveals, "My sister does that, too. She swindles a lot of old guys at cards." A wonderful skill for a 14-turn-old. "I don't know. Sometimes people treat you better when they think you from Fort or something like it." Somewhere known for having slightly more class than Bitra. "Nah, I mean I'll take the ring," he quick to amend, as much as he may want to just give her the thing, he doesn't try to press it. "I just didn't think it was worth a ring, is all. But Ailsa will love anything shiny." Eanraig doesn't turn down family, provided they're decent people, and Naneska seems to fit that bill. "I've just got the one sister."

Naneska only mocks those that deserve it, and it's been turns and miles since she has been reminded of her brothers, for that alone he is undeserving. "Ye know ye can jist ask for one yeah?" She offers this newly learned tidbit quietly. "I did! After a bluerider talked me into it. They're after bodies with two clutches on the sands." Sorry I'dre you're now part of her narrative for ever and ever and ever… "It's not swindlin' as such." Now she sounds slightly aghast. "More, playin' th' part they expect." And getting better bargins in the process. Okay, so maybe it's a little dodgy! "I don't do cards or nothin'. The occasional race. I love runners." There is a dreamy sigh for that, another thing forbodden by the candidacy restrictions. "It's a midden ring, I doubt it's worth much. Nice little garnet in it though." It would probably suit his sister perfectly! "There's always a story, be it that one or another." There is another wink, appropriate? Probably not. Fun? Yep!

"Yeah, but I've never been asked before. I'd like to be asked, you know?" There's a need to be validated underscoring those words. "Also, I'm not sure how my mom will take it. The way I see it, if I'm asked, she can't be too bothered." H'es playing the long game over here. Eanraig laughs again at her tone, his shrug a half-hearted apology. "You might not be swindling, but she definitely is. She cheats." The benefits of having a pirate as a father figure, hey. "I've never spent much time around runners." So he doesn't fully understand that dreamy sigh, but he can at least offer a sympathetic smile. "If it's not worth much, I'll take it as payment." His grin turns to one of mischief, as he adds, "I'll just tell her someone found it. Where's not important."

Naneska gets that! "Aye. I didn't take I'dre seriously til he said his dragon approved." That little bit sometimes gets left out of her grand story of how she came to be a candidate at the ripe old age of almost-22! "I wish ye luck then. Sometimes family, particularly if they're riders can… be a bit of a pain in th' arse." She'll just tell it like it is, even as she takes the last bite, she's a cruel one this one! CHOMP! "Ah, I have. I kin shoe 'em if I need to!" And that is an accomplishment. There is another sigh, this time resigned for the empty dish, and the full belly. "I suppose I should follow after Sheridan." A Weyr's worth of dinner dishes won't wash themselves, no matter how hard a certain trader wishes. "It was nice t' meet ye, Ean. And hopefully I'll see ye sooner rather than later." Particularly if he ends up in the candidate's barracks like he wishes.

"That does seem important. And I think I'd feel pretty stupid if I didn't impress, if no dragon thought it was a good idea." He's careful in is phrasing, trying to ensure that Naneska is excluded from this particular category of people who ask to stand. She does have dragon approval, after all! "Thanks. All of mine that're left are riders." And worse, almost all of them are riders at Igen, so there's no escaping it. But Eanraig doesn't dwell too long on the what-ifs, instead adding a belated, "I wish you luck, too." He's earnest in his good wishes for her success. While he may not have much experience with runners, he does (at least theoretically) understand what it is to shoe one, and his brows lift, impressed. "I'll remember that if I ever need shoes." For a runner, one hopes. He doesn't disguise his disappointment for their conversation being cut short, but he makes no attempt to detain her, either. Work is work! "Nice to meet you, too." As for seeing him sooner rather than later? "I'll be back to for some more pudding before you know it."

Hopefully THIS time Eanraig finds his way to his original destination in the bazaar. Or else this is not the only adventure he's going to have tonight. Naneska gives a final wave from the kitchen doorway before she too disappears. THE END!