There is something magical about sunset on the beach, particularly if the beach faces any direction but west (cos it'd suck to have the sun in your eyes). The waves reflect the dying shades of the setting sun, and L'xan is settled into one of those wallows in the fine fine sand. Sans shirt, but with a beer, he once more has a line in the water, but his expression suggests that he is consumed more by thinking than the lap of water and nibble of fish upon his line.

And it's not coincidence that brings D'wane upon a fishing weyrleader this time. Presumably the wingsecond was summoned. Or at least Nokteryth gave up the location when asked because Rocketh blinks in above this particular cove and circles on down to land a considerate distance away so as not to stir up sand around L'xan before D'wane slips down closes the gap quickly. His jacket is unbuttoned, but not completely removed. He doesn't plan on taking up too much time before he can hopefully find his own beach and his own beer without his own shirt on. "So… F'kan…"

Speaking of Nokteryth, he is currently sprawled in a wallow of his own, wriggling on his back like a pupper with an itch, the twilight ruins of his hide covered in the white sands of the beach. He's even making those weird little growls of a satisfactory itch. There is something about this display that suggests the anarchist bronze is restless and just a little bit antsy. "Fucking F'kan." L'xan responds before taking a swig of his beer. Is it any wonder that the man drinks. "I was pretty stupid the first few turns…" He admits. "But I was never that stupid. And we didn't have thread then." And once Thread arrived, L'xan rather promptly got un-stupid.

"Fucking F'kan," D'wane will agree. That might as well be Ocelot's new motto. At least for K'vvan and D'wane. Probably even R'zel gets in on the cursing this time. And no, absolutely nobody at all is surprised that Southern's Weyrleader drinks. It's be more surprising if he didn't. "It's not like there's a lack of willing women through the whole sharding planet. But he just had to go and sleep with one that was a candidate. At least she wasn't a weyrling." The wingsecond doesn't sound too consoled by the fact, but at least it is the tiniest of silver linings.

L'xan snorts. "Have you read N'iel's reports?" You know the ones where he lists every single excuse used by the brown rider in question. "Clearly we fucked up in his training somewhere. Add that to his gross stupidity…" More drinking! Yay for booze! "When were you planning on speaking to him? I assume there is some discplinary action to occur." If there isn't he's going to have to find something stronger to make up for his disappointment.

D'wane nods. "Yep." And there were so many excuses. "It's not a complex rule. Don't fuck candidates." He'll even hold out fingers as he says each of the three little words. Only three words that they were expecting riders to be able to follow which F'kan apparently couldn't "We are definitely. But not sure if what's in our power is enough of a punishment. Sure, we can assign extra sweeps or have one of the queens ground him outside of duties, but that still leaves him plenty of time to still enjoy Southern's hospitality in some down time."

L'xan laughs, it is not the hearty yeast-laden joyful laugh of a fisherman enjoying his brew, it is a bitter thing. "I did consider posting him to a womanless minehold as a sweep-rider… I'm sure they'd be glad to see his pretty face." Over in his wallow Nokteryth snorts approvingly. Which is probably why L'xan isn't going to persue that line of discipline. "But it occured to me that we currently have very fresh weyrlings right now…" He drifts off to see if the other bronzerider can fill in that great big blank.

The laugh is echoed by a snicker of D'wane's own. But then L'xan is bringing up his serious line of consideration and D'wane raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Repeating weyrlinghood has seemed to at least do some good for N'tash." If the worst they've had to complain about is his horrid handwriting, it's a huge improvement from weyrling N'tash, right?

L'xan is trying to enjoy the moment, the colors of sunset making everything vividly pretty, plus he has beer. How can a man be unhappy with beer? "Well I haven't heard of him killing anyone since he started." That's a VAST improvement right? "Right well, I wouldn't want to interfer with an effective leadership team, but if K'vvan and R'zel agree. I think that is the way forward." Whatcha gunna do about Maaaariiiia? "If you want, I can swing by while you break the joyful news to him. Just so he knows that his shit ain't sticking."

If the beer spills and you don't have another? Crying over spilled beer is much more socially acceptable than crying over spilled milk. D'wane just nods as for N'tash's improvement. There haven't been any Ocelot riders accused of killing anyone through their stupid actions since D'wane's been with Ocelot, and so that includes N'tash and the rest of the wing. VAST improvement. "I'll talk with them. Pretty sure K'vvan will say Good riddance." But with a good deal more cursing. "You already talked with the weyrlingmaster or should we wait until after you talk with him?"

L'xan jams the butt of his fishing rod into the sand, ending all pretense of fishing. "Eh, I'm fairly sure P'quil's seen it all. But I'll have a word with him tomorrow. Be sure he knows to let the weyrlings know who F'kan is, and why exactly he's repeating weyrlinghood with them." After all, there are young teenaged girls there too. Can't let F'kan have a repeat performance. And then there is a gusty sigh. "His Quaverilth is one of Nokteryths… I can't say I'm surprised." However L'xan did manage not to let his lifemate lead him too far astray.

D'wane nods with that. "Sure. If the girl was friendly with even some of her candidate class, it's going to be quite the welcome f'kan will get." Not quite as welcoming as the womenless mining hold, but definitely a fitting welcome for the misdeed. As for Nokteryth's potential bad influence, it's probably just because L'xan is just so sharding stubborn sometimes. IT can be useful with a persistent trouble making lifemate. "If there's nothing else?" He'll be more than happy to leave L'xan to his beer and fishing pole. He's got his wingleader to track down.

L'xan looks hurt. HURT MAN. "Oh sure. Just come poke me about our most recent pain in my ass, then leave me… I understand." There is even a mock sniff for the callousness of it all. "Track down your wingleader, fill him in. And let me know when you inform F'kan of his fate. I definitely want to sit in on that meeting." There is a feral glimmer in L'xan's eyes that suggests it's not so much stubbornness but understanding that helps create the effective bond the Weyrleader has with his still wriggling and grunting (SO DIGNIFIED!) lifemate. "But, beer and fishing for real at some stage!" Whenever duty and life allows right?

Whenever duty and life allows. Which will be sometime, but not now. Cause someone has to talk to K'vvan and apparently that's D'wane. He just gives a grin to the weyrleader and a salute before he's clambering onboard Rocketh. Onwards and upwards! (or downwards and backwards in the case of F'kan himself)