The Menagerie has a quiet sort of hum about it, today. Rukbat hangs bright in the sky like a golden coin, and the excess of sunshine seems to have the creatures of that place moving chittering and rumbling and whuffling. It's far from a din, but there's a comfortable sort of sound living things. Dressed in her customary white and veiled in Steen scarlet, Midra is seated in the central courtyard with a well-worn hide satchel slung across her shoulders. Three 'lizards sit before her on the ground, attentive. As she focuses on each, they leap to air in succession - at varying rates - rising into the air to race about the courtyard itself in a tight gyre before returning to the ground before her for a shred of bloody meat. They're small creatures, yet, the bronze, green, and brown - only half a dozen sevens old - but already well-defined muscles move easily beneath hides that shine with health.

A dark form shadows the walkways of the Menagerie this day, one that rarely makes time to venture in this place of pacing unique beast and rare avian of fantastic feather. Ko'an simply doesn't have time for sight-seeing, though that doesn't mean other sources of business don't drive him down into even this segment of the sprawling desert Bazaar. It's almost cool for an early Igen august day, that 89degrees simmering only enough that he doesn't wear a long coat- rather taking to a shorter leather jacket with just as many stark silver clasps along its edge. He's not all so different than the time she saw him before, wrapped in monochromatic flare and gawdy jewelry, except his left hand is wrapped in a piece of dark cloth like a fingerless glove, leaving exposed the blood rings that glint as he raises a hand to rub roughly at the scruff his face in an idle fashion. The roguish man of kohl-rimmed eyes moves through the sparse crowd like a ship in water, waves parting before his bow in the command he embodies. He does have a small satchel with him, lightly weighted, that sits just beside the hilt of the cutlass that sways at his hip alongside his swagger. It may have been Midra who he had been looking for when he'd stopped at the Tea shop earlier, though not finding her present, moved on to other associates that awaited him this day. And, perhaps he still doesn't quite realize it's her, veiled as she is, but she is quite obviously of the sort he was intending to find. The man swathed of shadows and ill-intent pauses beside a closed booth some strides away from the girl to not easily be immediately noticed- though he is a hard presence to ignore, so perhaps it doesn't go entirely missed. His elbow rests on the flat of the vendor booth, a wry, small smirk laying crooked on his rugged features. Just as one of those pieces of bloody meat are thrown into the air, a bronze firelizard clearly of many more turns than the three younglings before her crawls up the back of the bench. To snag fangs into that satchel. To yank it off of her shoulder, or tear a very large rent in it to send the meat free. If he manages the entire satchel, he would attempt to begin to fly off with it. If he only manages the tear, well, there will be a large amount of meat not eaten, but apprehended in his jaw to take away. The little beastie… he's scrawny, he's lithe, he's skeletal… he may just be a little familiar.

Focused as she is, Midra takes little heed of the foreign firelizard, or his master. Her only tipoff is when the eyes of her trio tinge a faint red, recognizing a threat to their treats, as the bronze hones in on his prey. Midra frowns, confused for an instant before the attack comes. The bronze gets it up and over her shoulders before she can react and put a stop to it. A thin hand catches ahold of the strap, but it's not quick enough - the hold is tenuous, and standing to pull on it does little to improve the situation. The Steen tries once to pull back on it, but the bronze successfully yanks it away. A few slivers of meat escape the leathery confines, flopping on the ground beside the bench. Midra's bronze and green hop forward to take advantage of the situation, paying little mind to the thief, but the brown leaps to air, chasing the much older brown with a hiss. The young woman seems to have little interest in chasing the thief lizard, and very briefly, looks to where her escort stands to the side, as if to wonder if the man might suddenly sprout wings and be helpful. That seems an unlikely outcome, and so she turns back to watch her retreating satchel. Blackbrown eyes extrapolate his trajectory easily enough, landing on Ko'an and hardening to black ice. Her arms fold, soft skin marred by dried blood, as she looks to him. Coldly: "Don't you have anything better to do than send your beast to harass people?"

The bronze struggles for a moment in the air when she pulls back on the straps. But then he's freed, and his burdened flight takes him to where Ko'an nonchalantly, smugly leans. Talons scrape against booth's top as the firelizard postures over his pillaged booty, a tilted head angling one faceted eye that doesn't even have a lick of angry hue within it, back to where the brown comes in challenge of him. Delayed does Ko'an move, his dark, thick brows furrowing with feigned disapproval. His covered hand sweeps to collect the satchel from where it'd been dropped, the bronze scrambling off of it with a speed provoked by turns of well-instilled fear. His ship-keel sharp sternum brushes the wood in how low he slinks back, chirring some unpleasant low-key noise. "You wound me, lass, for assuming I would want to interrupt such a-" His free hand gestures vaguely towards her, "Tranquil scene. We can't all have such rightly trained creatures. You have my most sincere apologies for his… interruption." The lie is well-laid, but in truth Mate does none but the seaborn man's bidding, and always has since the day he stole that egg long ago from whatever unlucky tradeship he happened to cross paths with. Ko'an straightens, an intimidatingly slow movement, that grin not exactly gone- a wicked contrast to those charming words that drip in their honeyed poison. "It would be my pleasure to return this." He begins to approach her, decreasing the space between them with slow intent, the weight of her belongings transferred to his bare hand to only partially extend it. Either he'll have to stop nearly right next to her, or she'll have to meet him part way if she's to get it back.

As Ko'an takes the satchel, the bold brown hisses one last time at the bronze, making a show of posturing fit for a 'lizard tenfold older. He makes no move to leave, though, swooping and hovering not far above Ko'an as if to warn him off of foulplay. The young creature remains just within reach, and is ready to flit away if the rider looks to close the distance and swat at him. The Steen girl scoffs at that, forehead tilting ever so slightly forward in a look of disbelief. "Of course. You've never ruined a tranquil scene before." The words are said drily, but her stance softens a touch when she sees the bag in his hands and not the bronze's maw. But she tenses once more as the man approaches, slowly. She makes no movement to meet him. Rather, Midra stands her ground, arms still crossed. She remains so until he's nearly upon her, at which point her eyes narrow ever so slightly, and a foot slides back. A hand reaches out to grasp the strap, pulling on it and rocking back on that foot. When he finally released the bag, she stumbles back, sending the green and bronze to squaking and flapping out of the way before returning to clean up the last scraps. The bag is held to her as she regains her balance and the flap smoothed once as she manages a begrudging, "Thank you."

The brown firelizard is an annoyance, but he doesn't outwardly appear all so perturbed by it. A wrong move, though, and there's little doubt the creature would get struck. However, Ko'an is a smooth criminal- that phrase accounting for a number of descriptors of him- and he doesn't bid the brown even a glance before he's standing too-close to Midra herself. A bit crowding, really, and it's a good thing she isn't by a wall or he might well be caging in the way he stands. He keeps ahold of that satchel just long enough that she has to tug a bit extra, not really intending her to take that stumbling step but not exactly anything but entertained by it. The arrogant grin spreads a little, curving the lines of his face darkly. "Of course, love." Is his response to her 'gratitude', though the predator drawls it in his thick accent, making it seem like such an effort was put into retrieving it for her- he is naught but a knight in shining….leather. "Fancy meeting you here. Midra, isn't it?" Either he rememebered her specifically, or he found out her name elsewhere. Doesn't matter at this point, for it's clear that he took the time to remember that name. And there are very select few reasons why he bothers to do so. "I happened to have the whim for tea this afternoon and I was quite disappointed when you weren't there to assist me as you did before." Does he know what she did to him? That's impossible. The man's clever, but not that clever, and certainly not that savvy in teas. "But no matter." He doesn't relieve the pressure he put on her, standing before Midra and her bench as he'd encroached on her to hand her back her possessions. Mate has settled on flat of the closed down vendor booth, bold enough despite the angry brown to ignore him anyway and begin to preen some of the meat juice from his hide that had splattered in the efforts to steal it all. "I have something for you." It comes out of no where, this abrupt offer that barters something for nothing- an impossible concept. Do we accept gifts from strangers here? He shifts, adjusting his broad, squared shoulders so that he can untie the small satchel from near his cutlass's sheath hung from his belt with his good, right hand. "I have an acquaintance who happens to be fond of.. unusual teas. And I thought you might be interested in trying them for yourself."

When she regains her footing, she regains her balance, looking up at him. Hostility is traded in for wariness, though an annoyance bubbles just below the surface. At her name, eyebrows knit faintly in uncertainty. "It is," she finally confirms after a moment, looping the strap over her shoulder. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage, sir." In more ways than one. "You are..?" The young Steen studies him for a long moment, chin raised a touch. "There are plenty of other servers who could have assisted you," Midra points out, meeting his gaze. "And plenty of other teas to try, as a novice." If he actually is one. Midra's arms cross once more across her middle as uncertaintly clouds the small window to her features. Like a host whose guests have stayed for too long, she doesn't know why he's still here - and frankly, is a little annoyed that he hasn't left. Confusion takes center stage as he mentions a gift, cocking her head as he continues. She's not uninterested, certainly, but it's less about the what and the why. Blackbrown eyes flicker to the satchel as he goes to untie it before raising once more to meet his gaze, wary. "You're just a regular small-time hero, are you? Overpaying servers, rescuing them from troublesome lizards, and gifting them with…. unusual teas?" The word is near drawled, stressed as if she might be using it for the first time. Or as if she's dubious about the nature of these teas.

There's the barest of disturbances as Eala finds her way to the vicinity. Perhaps it's the sound of a footfall, or the rustle of fabric which gives her entrance away. Whatever it is, the blonde doesn't quite manage to maintain absolute silence as she unwittingly stumbles upon this scene — not that she knows there's any reason to attempt to maintain it. She's dressed for patrol, although usually sans partner, which might leave some question as to how 'official' this visit truly is. Her swift steps draw up short when she spots two figures in close conference. It might be dismissed as an intimate meeting, except she knows the back of that dark-haired head all too well, and those sharp eyes of hers can recognize wariness at a moment's glance. She takes a step to the side, ensuring she's in Midra's eyeline, and offers the girl a slight nod. A reassurance. Say the word, and she'll knock the big, bad bronzerider down a peg.

Oh there is always a why, Dearie. Ko'an cants his head just a little, that cocksure smirk defining and bold. When she describes herself at being at a disadvantage, it's hard to ignore that glimmer in abyssal eyes, that darkening of his gaze that may not be wholly his own, 'neath oceanic hues and kohl'd shores. "Ko'an, m'lady." He gives nothing further, and by sound alone there is no honorific, there is no dragon or responsibility attached. There is nothing but this incredibly selfish man who keeps displaying this unwarranted generosity. A name is very merely a name, especially when it's not one's truest and basest of names that can mean so much more. He plays it off by being distracted finishing undoing the final loop of the secured sailor's knot, "A gentleman, lass. Always a gentleman." It obviously pleases him, that she so easily recounts his invested measures thus far, a deviled glint in that look he gives her should be warning enough. It's a serpent's warmth, truly, for there is little chill there, little threat aside from the suggestion of danger that submerges the whole of him. The smaller satchel is held partially towards her, and if she tempts to take it too soon, he'll raise a hand with a disapproving "Ah-ah" to ask of her patience- though, truly, he's never really asking. He doesn't notice Eala's arrival with his back to her, so he continues on, "There are better ones.. and there are… more." He drawls, unhurried, considering the bag himself, turning it over on his bare palm and lying his covered one on the handle of his weapon. His voice is a little lower, graveled when the volume drops, yet silken in the way he's luring into his offer, "This one I've found to be a peculiar favorite and I just came into possession of the ingredients on one of my last voyages. A tea of it makes you dream while you're awake, or dream more vividly when asleep.. Some say they relive their fondest memories or their most buried ones- I don't bloody well know the details of it. But it's certainly worth more than its weight in marks." It's a mixture of a tiny bit of deliri shrub and some other herbal materials, that which causes mild hallucinations- a thing of vague and not entirely legal substance that could be wonderful or quite terrible. "If you wish it, it is yours."

"Ko'an." Midra repeats the name, testing it with a small nod. The faintest hint of something enters her voice - doubt? There is no recognition in her tone, though - for one who remembers names near as well as she does faces, she does not seem to recall his. There's a soft scoff at that, and though she remains wary, there's a boldness that returns to her - a mistaken sense that, just maybe, the danger has passed? "A gentleman doesn't speak to young women the way you spoke when last we met." There's the faintest hint of reprimand in her tone - a test. At her feet, the bronze and green have sated themselves on what remained. The green takes wing, perching in a nearby tree, while the bronze comes to rest on Midra's shoulder. His hide is near as dark as his mistress' eyes, but his eyes whirl a lazy yellow, fixed on Ko'an. Eala's arrival draws her eye, and her gaze flickers to the side for just an instant. There's the faintest wrinkling about her eyes, and had she not been veiled, it's all too likely that a relieved smile would be seen beneath. What fear yet fouled her frame, flees, and she meets Ko'an's gaze with renewed surety. On her shoulder, the bronze's eyes calm to a yellow-green. And, indeed, as he offers the pouch, she begins to reach for it, but his disapproval has her hand recoiling as if she'd touched a hearth brick. Eyebrows knit as he explains its properties - and she can't help but betray some curiosity - but when he's finished, she remains wary. "Why would you think that I would want something like this?" A pause. "And if it's so valuable, why would you give it so freely?"

When her presence isn't immediately noted by the bronzerider, Eala takes the opportunity to move closer. This time she makes no noise, but remains careful in her tread — not too close — ensuring that she's just able to make out snippets of conversation. It's clear Midra is being offered something, and the greenrider eyes that bag in Ko'an's position with a curiousity that's overlaid by annoyance. She catches something about waking dreams, and marks, and her eyes roll skyward with absolute exasperation. She's going to kill him. Not here, in front of witnesses, but he has to come home eventually… In spite of her determination to end her weyrmate at a later date, she meets Midra's renewed confidence with an encouraging smirk, all too willing to propel the girl toward standing up for herself. But the blonde makes no move to reveal herself just yet, giving the Steen girl her opportunity to turn Ko'an away at her leisure — or not, should his wares be of interest. Instead, she crosses her arms below her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she watches events unfolding.

"I only asked a few easy questions, lass. And simply offered to expand your horizons a little." In regards to all the most acceptable topics, of course. Ko'an's grin is a little lewd with that, bemused by the reminder of the conversation had while he so delightfully delayed their closing time. "We can return to those subjects if any caught your particular interests." It would seem her reprimand does little but spur him on, though one may be hard pressed to find something that doesn't. The curiosity she betrays does not go missed, for even just the tiniest flicker of such was exactly what he was looking for. It shows in the flicker at the edge of his lips and in the depths of his eyes, the sinister glimmer o'er ocean vast, alight against the Darkness that writhes, pleased, beneath them. That's all he- they- needed- to make ajar the door, to make the choice available. Nothing is more powerful than choosing it oneself. "I'm quite certain you do." He doesn't need a reason when he's trying to only inflame those she might come up with herself, and with that he holds it for her to take if she would. Before he can answer with the 'why'- the most important phase of this ordeal if he was going to answer it at all- Mate makes a soft humming sound. He damn near coos. For a pirate's pet, it is one hell of a sweet noise. And he keeps it up, flaring his wings as Eala gets closer to greet her. Mate adores the woman, apparently. There may be something significant that phases over the man's expression so-fleetingly in immediate reaction to the noise behind him, though it's hard to tell if it's amusement, affection or dread or a combination of all of the above. His eyes close for a moment before he turns to see her, "Eala love, have you met Midra?" Smooth, buddy.

Whatever test it may have been, he seems to have succeeded - or perhaps, failed. Regardless, she rolls her eyes, impatient. They both know how elaboration on that topic is going to go, surely. She seems so certain of that, in fact, that she makes no indication to further respond to the barbs or lewd smile. She gives him a hard look at the counter, but makes no move to deny it. It's an answer, after a fashion, but it's not the answer she was dreading, at least. She considers the pouch soberly for a long moment, and as if his croons urge her on, Midra plucks up the pouch as the bronze 'lizard takes wing. Her gaze is drawn to him as he he flies by, gliding through the air to Eala, and Midra frowns. Her brown flutters to the bench, eyeing the thief warily, but makes no move to chase him further. The young Steen looks back to Ko'an, confused, and then watching him turn to face Eala. Her gaze flickers to where Kagran stands, dozing as he leans against a wall, before looking back to the pair. Uncertainty returns to her form, even as the eyes of the bronze on her shoulder trend yellow again. For a moment, she ignores Ko'an, looking directly to Eala, incredulous: "You know him?"

Of course it's Mate who gives her away. Why didn't she signal to the bronze for silence? There's a frustrated huff from the greenrider as her position is given away by the creature's pleased greeting, and in spite of her annoyance at being caught, she still purses her lips in a short whistle before gesturing to her shoulder. Should Mate oblige, he'll be showered in those scritches which Ko'an seems intent upon denying him. And speaking of the bronzerider… "Darling," Eala begins in a dry drawl, but there's a bite behind that rarely-used word which suggests the pet name isn't entirely affectionate, "I have, actually. And this is the second time I've threatened a man for her." The words are quite pointed, as she shifts blue eyes to the Steen girl caught in the midst of this immediately. The posed question is initially ignored in favor of more pressing demands — and perhaps because Eala isn't altogether keen to admit that her weyrmate is likely up to no good. "What do you say, Midra? Would you sleep easier if this man spent the night in the brig? Because that can certainly be arranged." Even though her expression is pleasant enough, it's backed by a steeled resolve that doesn't hold a hint of joking in it. Still, she can't just ignore the question. Her jaw clenches for a moment before she admits, "That's my weyrmate." Unfortunately.

The scrawny bronze firelizard crafted of worn and rugged edges and faded lines like some old long-lost map would probably have listened, too, commanded by the one he prefers so, but now that things have already come to pass, he moves a little closer to the edge of the booth's tabletop, wings almost fully at their length as if hopeful to be called. And that whistle does finally come, the creature taken to wing to land on the greenrider's shoulder and settle himself there, tail curled 'round the back of her neck, where he tilts his little chin up to take in all the offered scritches. Those sounds continue, the hums quieter given the closeness. There's a steady, slow inhale and a sigh emitted from the man, the hand that had begun to reach to invite her closer raising to scratch 'neath his earring'd ear in his peculiar idle tick as a result of those pointed words and altered greeting he reads well enough. Whatever approval, pleasure, victory is taken by what lies beneath is not apparent in the face of the greenrider now. The grin remains, though waned from the utter smugness it had before at the bite of that affectionate term. "I was simply offering her a gift. One of the rarer sorts I've come across as of late." For another mutual acquaintance of theirs.. "I thought she might enjoy it." In one way or another, and the 'favors' have only begun to start adding up. Never a kindness done without something owed. The offer given to Midra does actually cause the man's behavior to stutter slightly, his brow furrowing a little in his surprise, "That's hardly necessary. You wouldn't lock me up, love." For as sure of himself as he usually is, he might be a little bit less now.

The Steen remains silent as she watches the pair's greeting with confusion and uncertainty. As Eala does indeed threaten a second man on her behalf, though, that uncertainty seems to fade, though the confusion remains. The young woman seems to be seriously considering the offer when Eala finally answers the earlier question, and the offer seems forgotten. Dark eyes fly open, wide in disbelief. Her eyes shift between Ko'an and Eala, trying to reconcile her views of the two, and finally failing to do so. The bronze on her shoulder opens his maw a little, baring teeth, but Midra says nothing, flabbergasted as she watches the conversation unfold before her. She can't help but feel like she pulled her arm out from the feline's jaws just in time - this time, anyhow. The pouch is stashed away in a fold of her dress while the weyrmates face one another, and she does little more than watch the spectacle.

Eala continues to demonstrate her affection for the little bronze, scratching that hide with one hand while murmuring soft praise for only him to hear. Whatever adoration is usually offered to the man before her is instead given to the creature upon her shoulder, and it's only when the conversation begs her return that those scritches turn more absentminded, and her focus returns to people over firelizards. "I'm sure you were," she agrees in a flat tone, her gaze flickering toward Midra as she speaks. There's a hint of disapproval in blue eyes, because the girl did take the offered bag — and the greenrider seems to think that she ought to know better by now. Purposefully, her words are still directed toward the Steen girl, even if they're meant for Ko'an. "And when is she going to have to pay for that gift?" His 'favors' don't escape her notice, and as Midra's self-appointed protector, Eala isn't holding her tongue. When it seems the girl declines to answer her question about locking Ko'an away, the blonde is left to softly sigh her disappointment. "Wouldn't I?" she asks of the bronzerider, fixing him with an unwavering stare that's nigh impenetrable.

Ko'an glances over his shoulder to Midra, though only enough to view her from his periphery. However, when no answers come, he looks back at Eala with that same affection-touched look bordering on betraying some concern. There's a softening of some of his hard lines in the presence of this greenrider, a shift obvious for some, subtle to others from what he was before her arrival as if whatever was driving him before begins to ebb like some grotesque, grim tide. The question.. that very specific question that demonstrates too well how intimately she knows of that side of him makes the edge of his grin falter further, the remains of it faint on his features. The look of him, no of raised brows and careful expression, is somewhat beseaching where she's cornered him. "I've asked no price. I'm simply invested in her future." He can't lie to her, won't lie to her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't leave some things out in their current company. Only then does he take a step towards her and finally away from where he'd crowded the Steen, "Come now, love." Reaching for her arm with his good hand, "No harm came to the lass, I've done her no wrongs. Have I, m'lady?" The latter, of course, is to Midra.

At the disapproval, Midra's shoulders drop ever so slightly and she looks askance, avoiding the greenrider's gaze. At the first question, though, blackbrown eyes harden, looking up to Eala, and then Ko'an. There's a wide gully betweeen suspicion and certainty, and Midra seems to have just crossed it. On her shoulder, the shadowed bronze's eyes whirl crimson as he ventures an angry screech at the man. A hand fumbles at the pouch in its fold, retrieving it before taking deliberate steps forward to shove it at Ko'an. "I don't want your investment." A beat. "Whatever that's supposed to mean." The pendulum swings the other way, and whereas she had begun to grow comfortable and less wary, her frame is anything but, now. Dark eyes stare unblinkingly at Ko'an as she waits for him to take the pouch. There is no reply to Ko'an's question, as she does not know how to answer. Does the unscathed survivor go unharmed? She is shaken, at the very least. Instead, she finally answers the greenrider's earlier question in a restrained, low voice. "I don't feel comfortable telling you what to do or not do in regards to your own weyrmate, Eala. It's not my place." There's a brief pause. "I'm sorry."

"Why don't you invest in the future of someone old enough and experienced enough to know what they're dealing with?" Although Eala doesn't raise her voice, the accusation is plainly there in her words: he's taking advantage of someone who's not yet prepared for it. Then, in a lower tone just for his ears, "She can't be more than four or five turns older than Ean." No, she's not above a guilt trip to remind the bronzerider of his conscience. Her gaze drops to the hand laid upon her arm, but she doesn't try to shake him off. Instead she allows him his beseeching looks and attempts at softening her heart with innocent words, but nothing melts the icy look she wears. At least not when it comes to him, for it's a far kinder look she offers to Midra after the girl shoves the satchel back in the bronzerider's direction. "As someone who keeps the peace around here, I'm asking you if this man should be locked up. Whether or not that means I'll have an empty weyr tonight isn't part of that equation." At least no one can say she grants him preferential treatment. "But if you don't say you want him locked up, I suppose he won't be." There's a tinge of regret to her tone, and she turns her gaze back to the bronzerider with an expectant, "I think you owe her thanks for that."

Even though she doesn't shake him off, Ko'an releases her arm after a beat or two, instead looking to where he'd touched her for a long, slow moment before letting that hand drift back to his side. "He has nothing to do with this." This, too, hushed between them in regards to Ean. Whatever grin was left is gone once she brings up that topic, the muscles in his jaw flex in annoyance, perhaps frustration. A shift of his feet, of his still poised form makes him stand more beside Eala than in front of her. There are easy answers to what she asks him, his reasons are as simple as they may be elaborate at their farthest expanse. In essence, he's almost certain she already knows what he may say, so he flicks his gaze up at her once more before suddenly that pouch is back in his possession, being shoved into him enough that he'd react reflexively to take it. The scowl comes as he rolls his eyes at the interpretation- whether it be right or wrong- of what he'd said of his… intentions. Fortunately for everyone involved, however, he's a different man around Parhelion's wingsecond. And in consequence of the threats of the brig from his own, the cocksure ease that he seems to craft him is marred with a little bit of discomfort. There's a faint darkness that lingers over his features, a chill that hadn't been there before. A sliver of steel o'er seafoam as he watches Midra following the return, "As you wish, lass." There's always something someone wants more. Something of more worth, more.. desire. Something that can't so easily be handed back. But now is not the time. Seaborn gaze is drawn again to Eala as she re-defines the reason to imprison him, a set tension about his jaw keeping him quiet for once. When she intends for him to demonstrate gratitude, there's no humor in the delayed and barely granted, "Aye."

Midra's gaze flickers to Eala at that, a touch offended, perhaps. She is not a child, after all, but it fades quickly - the situation does seem far worse than whatever it had seemed. Eyebrows knit as the pair speaks, but she can't make out what's said. From that icy look, Midra can't help but wonder if sharing a weyr with her for the evening won't be worse punishment for him, but sets that thought aside quickly enough. When Ko'an takes the satchel back, she steps back, readjusting her own. She regards the pair for a long moment, dark eyes a mystery before she finally shakes her head once. "I'm fine, I think, Eala." There's a pause as she looks to the satchel, thoughtfully, before looking back up at the greenrider. "Surprised…but fine. Steens are made of sterner stuff, after all." Her head tilts to the side, indicating Kagran, who watches them from the side, having been roused from his nap. "And Kagran is here." At Ko'an's all but lack of gratitude, her eyes meet his, and she inclines her head, graciously. "You're welcome."

"And what about when Ailsa is her age, will it be fine for someone to use her to gain favor with you or me?" This is uttered low enough that Midra might pick up a word or two, but it's largely meant only for Ko'an's ears. She'll deal with the fallout of his frustration later, when they're alone and voices can be raised and words spoken that can't be said here, even in the quietest of voices. Midra's offense is no doubt well placed, but it's a pressure point the greenrider is seeking, and if the girl must be painted in a childlike light, that's an insult she's willing to give. Ignoring the scowl upon the bronzerider's face, Eala steps forward, fishing in a purse attached to her belt to pull out a small pin from her bag. It's nothing, really — an oddity meant for Oriahysciath, a cheap attempt at the image of a firelizard in flight that turned out looking slightly disturbed — but it's the best she has on her. "Keep this. If anything comes up, and you need me," there's a tilt of her head toward the bronzerider, "just give it to one of your firelizards and have them find me." That light of approval is back in her eyes as Midra claims to be made of sterner stuff, and as her gaze sweeps over the young woman, she can't help but nod. "You are, I've seen it myself. I saw it with Nasrin when we stood together." A glance goes toward Kagran, his utility suddenly clear. Whether or not Midra accepts her offering, the greenrider makes her way to Ko'an's side, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning against his side in a gesture that's oddly affectionate for her words of only moments before.

"I wouldn't allow that to happen." This response may be a little louder than the relatively unpleasant whispers exchanged before, may be more audible to Midra with his accent-heavied and graveled voice that's lost some of that alluring silken devilishness to be replaced by something far more dire. Whatever offense Midra takes of Eala's points, he largely ignores them. Most of his attention stays on Eala as she steps forwards to bridge the space between her and the vieled Steen-girl. And then when her intention comes to light, his expression lingers in a careful neutral before it flickers in dark amusement. A quiet huff of humored breath comes through his nose, his weight shifted again and a thumb hooked into his belt as he waits out the exchange. There is no alleviation to how frustrated he's become, but the Darkness is both infuriated by the complication, and entertained by the craftiness of what now bars it from its target. There are very few times the man is silent, and this is one of those times. For here is his anchor, the one and only person that has kept all this at bay, yet as she challenges it so directly that there is no disguising it in the depth of his gaze, the way he watches each move she makes. That slight smirk that's reclaimed his expression. "You never fail to surprise me, love." Is spoken quietly upon her return, and despite whatever lurks to be discussed in private, he would never deny her. Could never deny her. Once she's at his side, his arm raises to hold her 'round her shoulders. Then, despite Eala collected against him, his next words are towards the younger girl, "I'm sure our paths will cross again, lass." Ensured, really, despite the trinket she now holds and the trouble that may cause him- surely he'd not test it, not when it leads so directly to this woman. "I think it's high time we shoved off, Eala love. It's getting late." And it will probably be much later before they sleep, too.

There's another faint frown as the quieted conversation continues, and her gaze slides between the pair. When Eala's attention returns to her, she listens attentively. A hand reaches out to take the pin, and as she does so, she studies Eala's face for a long moment. "Thank you, Eala," Midra replies soberly, holding the pin in a closed palm. "I will." It's a promise as much as an assurance. Dark eyes brighten a touch at the greenrider's reply, though there's a thoughtful glint at mention of Nasrin, but in the end, nothing is said. Her gaze rises to Ko'an as he addresses her, considering. "The bazaar is a small world," is her only reply - a vague acceptance of the inevitability of another encounter. The satchel at her side is hitched up and she turns to nod at the ex-pit fighter, motioning towards the exit. "I expect I should be departing as well. Good afternoon." They're given a brief nod and she steps away and out of the courtyard, an escort and three young firelizards in her retinue. When she's finally out of sight of the pair, she pins the small trinket to the fabric of her veil and covers it with folds of crimson, to remain safely hidden.

"Good to see you again," is all that's said to Midra as the Steen departs, but blue eyes follow her until she's fully out of sight. Eala's gaze is protective, watchful — and perhaps calculating, if one looks closely enough. Once even the memory of Midra has departed, the greenrider turns her eyes toward the bronzerider at her side. Lips curl in a prideful smirk as she regards him, affection warring with that lingering exasperation in her expression. The latter still seems to be winning. "You'd make more friends by doing them favors first, love," she teases, but there's a warning which rides underneath her words, and the promise of other things which need to be said. But those are words for the safety of home, where none will hear the verbal lashing she's likely to give him for this, nor the Darkness-driven response he likely has waiting for her. Instead, that smirk shifts into a more pleasant smile as she briefly squeezes her arm around his waist. "Home it is. I have been feeling overtired, lately." And with that, she pulls away to twine her fingers with his good hand, leading him toward the promise of home, and whatever awaits them there.