K'ane, El'ai, Th'seus, Yules, Maosa


It's an Ocelot reunion + one Lynx Wingleader and one Igen rider. They talk about eggs, bodily fluids and eat potato skins. El'ai's skins.


It is evening of the seventh day of the second month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


The Tipsy Kitten

OOC Date


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The Tipsy Kitten

Here there be drunkards: a marble bar and the gorgeous array of colored bottles behind it would be enough to draw them in, but more yet lures those to enjoy the recreation the Kitten has to offer. Windows allow light to naturally illuminate the first floor of the tavern in the daytime, while green-tinted glows shine after nightfall. A door behind the bar leads to the tiny kitchen, while a stairway leads above to the rooms available for rent. Among the hubbub and the ruckus, a calamity of tables scatter through the open space, plenty enough for dragonpoker tournaments on restday eve.

The day has dawned to the end of the road, Rukbat's slow fall into the darkness of night leaves Southern in a twilight state of in-between. The heat has fallen from the apex of melting degrees into the somewhat cooler, yet humid, shadows of night. At least one can breath once those golden rays fade into just the hint of blush at the edge of a deep azure sky. Stars dot the eastern edge where blackness awaits. Dinner has pulled much of the weyr's denizens to the living caverns, a much less cloistered space. Thus, this leaves the tavern mostly empty and the barkeep bored behind the counter. El'ai sits, alone, at a table twirling a half empty glass, staring into its depths. He's shorn the riding attire in deference to the heat, sitting practically shirtless in what can only be described as a thin, tank-top style undershirt tucked into black pants. He is, apparently, deep in thought. Oh, and there's a half-empty bowl of what looks to be fairly fresh potato skins.

Yules makes her way into bar, the best cure for a good work-out being a cold ale. Down to pants and a long loose shirt, she's mildly startled that it's so quiet here, but hey, more ale for her, right? Quick step to the barkeep, who looks about as happy to see her as he was being bored, and retrieves a tall mug of beer with maybe a bit too much head before starting a slow circuit of the room and finds, surprisingly, El'ai. "Wingrider," Yules greets with some surprise, but doesn't sit down. Too formal for non-leathers? "El'ai," Yules tries again and then a sip of her beer, leaving a faint head mustache. "How are you doing?"

"Don't mind if I do…" Th'seus drawls as he takes up residence next to El'ai at the bar. He could say hello or ask permission, but that's not half as much fun as assuming familiarity. He pops a potato skin into his mouth, chewing and then swallowing. "So congratulations. Plan on taking a vacation there when the eggs drop?" Yules appearance has him twisting around, greasy hand wiggling thick fingers at her. "Evening. Want one?" He asks, holding the bowl out to her. The bowl of not-his-food. Clearly she wants to eat something like this after working out.

Maosa isn't much of a drinker - except for klah, anyway. (A semi-secret: she can't hold her liquor worth a shit.) Thus she moves into the Kitten with the faintest touch of uncertainty, a careful window of space left between herself and everyone else, her passage marked by with silent steps. She might have passed the group at the bar altogether, without so much as a word. Except… are those potato skins? Without commentary, without more than the slightest of nods (well - Yules gets a deeper incline, because she's YULES) a roughened hand weasels in. YOINK.

Suddenly… there are people. At his table. El'ai lifts his head and blinks those blue eyes owlishly, shifting his lanky form laconically. "Hey…" Those were his potato skins. "Um. Wingse-Yules." He's a little slow if only for how deep his thoughts were before. "What the! You just stole my — " It's a CONSPIRACY here. Although, Maosa might maybe get some second glances here, before he gives up and turns to Th'seus. "I will, yeah. Go to Igen. It's my first clutch." Not to mention his first flight. Sneaking a look to Yules, there might be a blush. It's hard to tell. SOMEONE is trying to let some scruff grow.

SURPRISE! IT's an Ocelot-plus-one party! Yules mphs quietly as she follows Th'seus down into a seat - her own, as it were - and looks up at another familiar face: "Maosa," Yules greets her old clutchmate with at least familiarity, and gestures her beer at another seat, "Come sit, we were just congratulating El'ai on Sekhaenkath's prowess." We were? Sure we were, as Yules reaches for a potato skin, eyeing it with a hint of suspicion. "Is that how it happens, when an out-Weyr's bronze flies a queen?" The question is technically for everyone, but Th'seus gets a long stare. Nibble of potato skin, followed by an surprised glare at it. How dare you be delicious? "These are good, El'ai!" While Yules doesn't actually smile at the new clutch-papa's rider, she does look… appreciatively at him.

Where did that hand come from? Th'seus blinks, narrows his eyes and ducks his head to look around Yules, spotting the wildlingly girl beyond her. It's then maybe that he realizes he's surrounded by all these Ocelot riders. "Do guys travel in packs on purpose?" He jokes before popping another in his mouth and sliding the bowl back to El'ai. He winks at him companionably. "Good for you. It's not hot as fuck there right now." Which is pretty much a +100 points of awesome across the board for him right now. Southern is one serious sweat pit. "More or less. Unless there's some extenuating circumstances, maybe." A barmaid goes by and he flags her down, quickly putting an order in for his beer. After all, he didn't just come here for the potato skins.

"Your face looks funny." Maosa lacks Yules' appreciation for El'ai's scruff. She also lacks Yules' manners. Th'seus's joke only earns the wingleader a long, unblinking stare, before her attention abruptly drifts back to the potato skins. Those are what she's really here for, let's be real. Without bothering to ask, the bluerider takes a seat, the better to begin consuming in earnest. After a spell of comfortable, starchy silence, she suddenly speaks: "Osweith says Elicheritath let Sekhaenkath catch on purpose." The wildling gives El'ai a solemn, slow blink. "You should watch yourself."

"I was here first," El'ai takes a moment to note, giving everyone a look, especially as his precious potato skins start to dwindle. "We need another basket — we need another basket!" That last is called out to the bartender, the potato-skin-order-taker. "Seriously, what is up with the weather? I blame Th-" Fred? Thed? Nah, probably Thread, though the bronzerider shifts a little beneath Yules's appreciative stare. "They are. The Kitten makes the best potato skins." He's as much in the dark as Yules — okay perhaps a touch less — but it's still with rapt attention that he gives the old(er) bronzerider. "I am kind of excited to see what comes out of her — what?!" Yes. That is El'ai. Choking on a potato skin, giving Maosa big eyes. Not big eyes of love, but big eyes of pleasedon'tletmediefrompotatoskinkilling.

No, Yules is not slowly nibbling down the length of her potato skin, though she can't seem to decide how large of a bite she wants to take next. Fortunately, she does stop to nip off a bite and mmms happily at the result. "It was quite warm the night we were…" The wingsecond's voice fades in recollection to Th'seus, "Or was that the… uh, situation?" A guilty look at El'ai, but onto more pleasant topics as broached by Maosa: "Well, it would have to happen sooner or later, right? Was it choice," the brownrider asks, rudely philosophical, "or just excellent timing?" Wait, did Yules just compliment Desmeth's former competition? "Yes, more potato skins are an excellent idea." Death by potatoskin? Yules watches the younger man choke for a moment, one fist waving threateningly to reach over and thump him on the back. In that time, she'll ask, "Did you stay long after?" You know, for when El'ai is breathing again?

"I think he's trying to grow some manly facial hair." Th'seus points out helpfully, thanking the woman who brings his beer over. He takes an appreciative swallow out of the glass, before his mouth curls up in amusement at El'ai. "If you were here first it just means you set the party up." Maosa is given a long, considering look for comment on the younger bronzerider watching himself. It's complete with the slight arch of his dark eyebrows, but he must decide to not comment. Instead he clears his throat and says, "I don't really care for the egg part. I like when they hatch and run around on the sands. That's the real moment of truth. Until then, any shell could be hiding anything." He reaches for another potato skin and waves it about. "That's sort of personal." In regards to El'ai staying long after with the Igenite goldrider.

"We know." Maosa doesn't seem to have picked up on El'ai's subtle implication that it is RUDE of them to be stealing his skins. She regards the younger bronzerider's choking with a mellow air, remaining in place, silently staring. He's got Yules to save him from dying, she can just keep eating his food! Munch, munch. "Things can be hidden, with or without shells," she observes. Munch, munch.

Mind. Blown. By. Maosa. The offending potato skin finally slides down a tortured throat, just in time for Yules's question that has a fit of coughing come upon El'ai once again. The expression he gives Th'seus might be a mixture of gratitude and 'help' with a significant look to the females. "I… " How does one answer that question? By grabbing for food and stuffing it in one's mouth, that's how. Only when he's sure he can speak without choking does he manage to mutter, in true teen-boy fashion: "Until it was over?" All the while looking down at the table. Th'seus's thoughts are grabbed onto, clutched tightly, and ran with. "Khalyssrielth doesn't really much like her eggs when they're just eggs too. But… I do wanna see if it's a fine clutch or … if… " It's like comparing wieners. His dragon can't have a mike-and-ike. Finally, queries somewhat hesitantly, "Like…" aghast, "… deformities?!"

Yules tries to see the facial hair, and ahhs after a moment of searching. A pause and then Yules adds, "Growing in nicely then." Because that's what you say, right? Sure, whatever; food ain't getting any warmer! And since El'ai isn't turning blue or grey or any unfortunate colours, Yules' fist falls back to the table to pick up her beer. You can nom beer, right? Though El'ai gets a slightly concerned look - not worried at ALL.She nods in agreement over her beer at Maosa, "You never know whether it's a blue or a bronze, or," and never seen one, Yules huhs: "Or could a blue egg look like a gold egg?" Suspicious! But as for deformities? Yules wrinkles her nose: "Why would the clutch have anything like that?" Yules is not a believer.

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Osweith thinks « Quite suddenly, Osweith. « Has anyone NOTICED » the words are backlit in harsh white light, a glowbasket hidden somewhere just outside of peripheral vision « that Thread arrives, and a Northern Weyr coincidentally lets a Southern dragon sire their clutch? » Suspicion twitch-twitch-twitches its tail. « And at the same time, we suddenly have a major heat wave? » »

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Ice crystalizes. A single thought stands frozen: Operation World Domination through Legacy: Stage 1, Complete. (Khalyssrielth)

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Osweith KNEW IT.

"It's an early pass clutch, strong sire and dam. I'm sure that it's going to be just fine, El'ai." Th'seus is a good support system. Even if he totally ate the younger man's food and offered it to other people. "There won't be any deformities." He's quick stamp out that worry, lifting an eyebrow at the strange bluerider. Not that he seems to expect it's going to do much. "I think a gold egg is usually pretty obvious. But I suppose there's been times when one wasn't quite so."

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Caelth narrows the hundreds of red eyes peeking through the forest, and hisses. « A conspiracy against our what?? »

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Desmeth sighs and offers his dear friend Osweith a drink, a long sip from a cool white-wine trough. « My dear brother, some things are just… things. » The brown is a warm brandy snifter of ease and relaxation, « And to drink to his success! » Desmeth doesn't hold grudges.

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Osweith has only sharp-lit solemnity for Caelth. « Our precious bodily fluids. » I mean. Obviously.

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Dhiammarath is as her constant presence: the North star as seen by paper lantern'd light, soft gleaming sands shifting timeless under the watchful mien of stars and cast reflections of eternal pools. Perhaps there's bubbles to the pool: perhaps the North star shades amused in blush champagne. She does not acknowledge her youth, her ingenious son, other than to send a brush of tranquility touched by lemongrass and night-blooming jasmine. Only a mother's love.

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Vossuth just sighs.

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Osweith takes Desmeth's drink… with caution. « I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time around bronzes lately, Desmeth… »

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Caelth makes noises about hunting down these body fluid thieves and killing them with fire.

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Kraakenaeth daren't mention the unlikely … circumstance … that he is of the boundless depths of water, the trenches of the depths. (This has nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't enough tears from baby dragons to fill it, and sweat would do in a pinch.)

Maosa doesn't really have much to contribute here: she's only really paid attention to the one clutch, after all. So she takes a potato skin, and then another, and then a third. Maosa is going to get fat. Abruptly: "How do dragons get deformities, anyway?" That the choice of topic might be unkind does not appear to occur to her. "And I thought gold eggs always looked. Gold."

<Southern Weyr> Vossuth senses that: Inlayraith now feels just terrible that she hasn't provided Kraakenaeth with enough tears. So sorry :(

Does El'ai rub his hands across his face when Yules makes her growing comment? Oh yes. For a good, long second he's hiding nicely behind his hands, before he rejoins the rest of society. "Yes, well. I didn't think there would be deformities." Of course he didn't. Sitting up straighter, he gives Yules and Maosa a nervous kind of look, but the boy's growing maturity shows in how he doesn't just rush to say random shit. "A gold egg," is mused, instead. Hung on a moment before he shakes his had. "Nah, no gold egg would come from a first clutch." Beat. "I don't think they can. No, surely they can't." El'ai is firm in this. His dragon isn't going to be making wrong babies. "Anyway. I guess I gotta figure out where I'm going to stay there. In Igen." He's certainly not shacking up with Tuli! Or is he? CONSPIR-AMYSTERIES.

Yules shrugs at the possibility: "I've never actually seen one," she comments and then backtracks: "Though when I first got to Igen, there was one. Briefly." And since that can never lead anywhere pleasant, Yules is content to contribute: "Why not?" Let's just break all the boundaries tonight: golds in blue-eggs, first-clutch golds, water flowing up-hill, Rukbat rising on the opposite horizon. The last of her stole… procured potato skin gets popped into Yules' mouth and munched before swallows. "We'll have to find a way," Wingsecond cranium interruptus, "To fill your position until you come back." The rapidly depleted supply of food earns Maosa a slightly dirty, mostly fond look before Yules is twisting to find the waitress. Helloooooo, potato skins, table Ocelot and Th'seus!

"Why not? It isn't her first clutch. Though I don't think that has any bearing on it anyway." Th'seus takes a long swig from his beer, stretching his legs out underneath the table. Hopefully he doesn't play footsie with anyone. "Something goes wrong during the dragons development in the shell. I don't really know why. Same as with babies, I guess." He shrugs for the possibility of a gold egg not looking quite gold. "All the ones I've ever seen were distinct. But I'm sure in the great history of the world there could have been some that weren't, maybe."

"Osweith says," no statement that begins that way ever ends well, "that it depends on what Elicheritath is up to. And how much of his bodily fluids she took." See? It never ends well. Stealing the final potato skin from the basket, Maosa munch-crunches it, then folds her hands in her lap like the lady she isn't. She blinks at the three of them, slowly, and waits for the refills to arrive.

Finally, the potato skins that El'ai yelled for earlier comes around their table on the hands of the bartender, who drops it in the middle of the table. Just in time for Maosa not to be blasted to death by Th'seus's, El'ai's and Yules's death stares for taking the last one. Pulling his drink closer, the younger bronzerider considers everything they say, muttering, "Maybe. Who knows. I'll be happy if it's at least a moderately sized clutch." Blue eyes look to Yules from 'neath dark lashes, before dipping down again when he leans in to sip his (alcoholic) beverage. "I…" Yules, Th'seus. Help. How does a man even answer that?

And if anyone should know (in theory), it is the tried and tested Wingleader of Lynx, right? Yules hmmms at Th'seus' explanation for imperfect eggs and then suggests: "Well… perhaps it has something to do with their diet." Even before she can warm to her subject, Yules' eyes fade in thought for a moment before coming back. And nothing more on that subject comes from the former amateur dietician. The new skins are pounced upon, or one is, snatched up by long, questing fingers. And for once, maybe Yules can be a good Wingsecond: "Sekhaenkath's clutch will be good and strong. I mean, his dam hauled a huge rock onto the Sands." Ergo, vis a vis. And since Maosa brought it up, "How long can they really exchange fluids for?" Since Yules and Maosa took the same dragon mating classes, "I suppose it depends on how high they fly. But does that dictate colour?"

Th'seus stares across at the bluerider, sucks in a breath and then takes another drink. "What she said." Then just for fun, he swallows the rest of his beer and raises his hand for another refill on it. "At any rate, I don't think you're going to be disappointed by the clutch, El'ai. Quit thinking so hard about it." He doesn't know when he become some sort of expert on these subjects but at Yules idea that it could be diet, he just shrugs helplessly. "Look, I don't know. I just you know, fly a dragon like everyone else here at this table. You want better information, ask Arianne." It's not said unkindly. Just, you know.

"I will," states Maosa, solemnly, calmly, "be sure to ask Arianne about dragon bodily fluids." She manages to choose a moment of relative silence in the Kitten to make this announcement - naturally, of course she does. She reaches to purloin a potato skin, pauses to daintily lick the salt off her fingers, and proceeds to STARE at El'ai. "I think you should bring Southern dragons with you." Slow blink. "For company." Pause. Blink. "In case Igen tries something." Another potato skin is acquired.

Oh awkward. El'ai slouches a little in his chair, fiddling with his drink as everyone around him starts wondering about the whole exchange of bodily fluids. He's not weighing in on that, not at all. They all sit around the bar at a table with fresh potato skins — cheesy, bacony goodness here folks — and seem to be discussing Sekhaenkath's prowess. At least it's just the bronze's prowess! And hey, they are no longer talking about how well his dragon has sex: "You mean like… you?" He squints at the wildling girl-rider and cants his head to the side. She does look like she would eat someone, kinda. A blue-eyed look is shot back to Yules and Th'seus. "I don't know if Tuli would allow it… but it's half mine, right? I can say something. About that."

From the doorway, K'ane. That's right, it's a verb now. Or a statement. A choate expression, a whole sentence in one word. Or maybe he's just lingering, squinting in the relative gloom. "What about bodily fluids?" is the Igenite's incredulous comment; he moves over that-a-ways, probably looking for Hannah (or someone) but finding instead THIS knot of deviants.

Time for a cold one! Yules takes a long sip of hers and adds philosphically to Th'seus' encouragement, "And it's sort of out of your hands right now." Doesn't that just make El'ai feel better? "Oh, yes, Arianne should know things like that, right?" Arianne knows all, insert creepy stare goodness here. Maosa's suggestion earns a pursed-lip, thoughtful look, "We'd have to clear it by the Weyrleader first, if we're going to be sending over dragon-power." Way to rain on the parade, Yules! "And Ocelot will be short El'ai already." Rain, downpour, hailstones? And then there's a new person. Yules rears back from her thinking, potato skin held out in front of her defensively: "Does more of it make differently coloured dragons." O hai, K'ane.

If Th'seus was someone else, he'd probably make a really off-color joke to the women at the table about not allowing K'ane to put his bodily fluids inside of them unless they want babies. But alas. :( His player will just have to put in this meta right here. "You should take her with you to Igen, definitely. As a bodyguard." Because that's what they need there, Maosa. "I'm sure Arianne would enjoy answering all of those questions." Another beer in his hand, it's clear that the bronzerider is content to be some kind of instigating influence. The Igenite's arrival gets a short wave, "K'ane." Since sure, he remembers his name from that one time they met. At Yules' explanation, he shrugs at the other man and takes a long drink.

"Well." Maosa's voracious potato-consumption slows: now she is even able to pause and toy with one, the before crunch-munch. "Osweith thinks Igen is up to something." Slow-blink. "Also, the last time I went to the Northern Continent, there was Thread at Keroon." Munch. "I'm curious about the North." Slow pause. "If the Weyrleader agrees, we should spend time there with you." So is that a diplomacy mission… or a test of might for Igen's soon-to-be Candidates? K'ane's intrusion is noted. Maosa does not seem terribly surprised to see an Igen rider suddenly appear: she just stares at him. And then, quite calmly, takes the potato skin basket and holds it out. Come, sit. Let her state at you.

Oh Faranth. It's K'ane. Let's just entirely have a reunion of all the riders at Tuli's flight. El'ai sits up straighter, however, shrugging shoulders almost bare in the tank-top style under tunic he's wearing instead of a real shirt. What? Southern is absolutely melting here, guys. "K'ane," the boy manages to say without it being too formal or awkward. "Bodyguard? I don't know. It's just a clutch. I think Q'fex will need all his riders here. At the weyr." The young bronzerider seems to shift to agreeing with Yules, for some reason or another. He just sighs when Maosa holds out the fresh potato skins and leans back to flag the bartender down. "Another." It does have the distinct advantage of showing off the fact that El'ai is no longer classified in the 'kid' category.

Remember, K'ane almost dropped-trous in front of El'ai! To show Tuli his… stick. It's a moment he'd rather forget. "Hey, Th'seus," K'ane greets, settling down next to the other bronzerider without a hitch in his step. Or in the vicinity, or whatever. He squints over at Yules for a long moment: "Do I know you?" before scanning over at Maosa. And her potato skins. He takes one with a little philosophical shrug, shoves it in his mouth and nods over at El'ai in the mouth-ful what-up-man kind of way that guys give one another.

WEll everyone else seems friendly with the New Guy, but Yules is firm in her, "No. Probably not. But you did ask." Oh wait, a name? Yules retreats with her potato skin and noms it a bit, watching everyone else play pleasant, except where she nods with El'ai about Q'fex. "But maybe Bailey can as…" Wait. Yules rethinks this idea. "You could ask really nicely?" she suggests as if this is a bizarre idea for her too. Drink. Potato skin. Repeat.

"Is Igen up to something?" Th'seus asks K'ane outright, lifting his eyebrows and decidedly not looking at Maosa over there. He reaches out then and snatches up another potato skin, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly as he waits for the answer. Starch is washed down with a swallow of beer before he turns back to the younger riders, a quick wave of his hand. "El'ai doesn't really need a bodyguard. He'll be alright. As long as he stays out of the back alleys and shit."

Never let it be said that Maosa is entirely without airs and graces: quite suddenly, she turns her gaze fully upon El'ai. "Would you like a bodyguard?" Slow blink. "Just in case that goldrider tries something." SLOW BLINK. The hand that was holding out the potato skin basket to K'ane retreats… and brings the basket with it. What? El'ai already ordered another, and they all know Maosa's going to eat most of them, anyway.

Whatever embers existed of El'ai's boy-crush on Maosa fan out into nothingness at the girl's strangeness. What? He was superficial and Maosa is GORGEOUS (wellokaymaybestrangeisbetter). "I…" Slow pause, blink, "… don't know. I can't imagine Tuli killing me." Or trying to. "People don't just do that." Th'seus is right. Some level of belief in the goodness of the world exists in the man, who kicks his feet and reaches out to take one of the potato skins from the basket he ordered. An air of challenge given to the bluerider before raising K'ane's chin-nod with one of his own. "Yules, I think I'll not especially bring this up to Q'fex." No need to spread the conspiracy rumors further than they're already gonna go. Wait for it: "Stay out of back alleys?" Welcome to Igen, El'ai.

K'ane stares at Yules like Maosa stares at him. "I know you from somewhere." Maybe he's just planning on repeating himself until the brownrider acknowledges he's alive. He's perverse like that. To Th'seus: "Uh. They could be. They don't tell me much, y'know, bein' an Oldtimer 'n all." K'ane shrugs a shoulder. "Tuli would totally kill y'if she thought she could get away with it," K'ane stage-whispers at El'ai. "She's kinda a bitch."

There, it's settled. Yules shrugs at El'ai, "As you prefer…" Though she stares at the young man a little longer than necessary. Like K'ane might be staring at her. It's a creepy-thon. And then, something occurs to the brownrider, "Wait. Aren't our Weyrwoman and that goldrider friends?" like there's some clause of friends don't let friends eat their Weyr's riders? "I just think I remember hearing Lendai talk about her before." Or something; Yules shrugs at the idea, passing on to the idea of Igen-at-it's-worst (hi, K'ane): "It can be pretty awful there," Yules tells El'ai solemnly, "Watch out for snakes." And OH OKAY, Yules will give K'ane another half-once-over, and she huffs, "The last time I was at Igen was with," a chin jerk at the youngest bronzer, "when Elicheritath went up." A memorable night? Yules huffs and sips more ale. As for Maosa, Yules tries her luck at the basket the bluerider holds, fingers wiggling to see if there are any left.

To Maosa, Th'seus silently repeats, 'they could be'. Like she really needed any help. But to the younger bronzerider, he shakes his head and reassures again. "No one is going to kill you there." As for those back alleys, he shrugs his shoulders. "It is Igen. Things happen there. Just stay out of the places you don't belong." The Lendai might be backing Tuli up in the friendship department. That doesn't exactly generate a relaxed expression on his face, but the Wingleader just keeps. his. mouth. shut.

Maosa remains as oblivious to El'ai's weirded-out-ness as she ever was to his crush. Look only for predatory beasts, and pay no attention to anything else: that is the Jungle Way. (Besides, as far as anyone has ever been able to ascertain, Maosa doesn't seem terribly invested in her pink parts.) You know what she is invested in, though? Potato skins. OM NOM. "Really? I heard people try to kill people at Igen all the time." This isn't said in tones of scandal, mind you. If anything, Maosa sounds very faintly intrigued.

Though she does, since her player ONLY JUST NOTICED sorry, offer up the basket to Yules. Yules makes good klah: Yules can have a potato skin.

"I stayed in Igen for a little while to try and bring Bailey over. Vergora…" Even El'ai still shudders at the mad power in the former Weyrwoman's demeanor. "I don't think Tuli would kill me," confidence exudes, even with K'ane's whispered comment. "I don't expect to stay there long enough to get in trouble," he adds, with a final nod to Yules and Th'seus. Then Yules has to go and mention where they all hung out together at, which gets El'ai shrugging at Maosa. Luckily, he's saved by the arrival of the third basket of potato skins. Great, now everyone else can have some.

K'ane snaps his fingers, "Oh, right. Th' brownrider." To Yules. "A'ight, I've gotta find Lendai. Good talkin' t'ya'll." He waves off to EVERYONE and then starts off towards the exit, muttering something to himself.

You overhear K'ane mutter, "… … … ass … riders an' … … … … … find Lendai. … … … …" to himself.

Yules will nod her agreement with Th'seus about the dark corners of Igen, though El'ai's revelation gets a bemused look, "Really? I was there too." They have SO much in common, isn't this exciting? "Except I didn't have much to do with riders then; I was a cook then." So many Turns ago. Fond sigh. And then K'ane is taking off, and Yules nods a reasonably un-rude farewell to the man. And when potato skin finds Yules-skin, Maosa gets a little smile. Maosa passes over potato skin, so Maosa can have more klah. When Yules grinds it up. "Thanks, Maosa." And then because she only heard part of that, said brownrider wonders, "Does anyone know what he was muttering about?"

K'ane, that is.

"Right, I forgot about that." About El'ai having been at Igen, that is. The bronzerider knocks back the rest of his beer and then slides his chair, slowly getting to his feet. "Stay out of trouble, kids." To the bar he goes to pay off his tab, all two beers worth. And later when El'ai goes to settle up, he'll find that at least one of his baskets of potato skins have been paid for. He's good for something at least.

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