The door to the Kitten swings open and an explosion of minute leathery wings bursts into the establishment, each reflecting different hues as they navigate behind a gold who hisses a brown lizard off of prime real estate. Four lizards huddle then near the little queen as she surveys the area. The door swings closed behind a lean figure remarkable for her washed-out tones and distinct ability to be mistaken for either gender. She has a rider's knot on casual clothing of a style that, while not exactly Telgar, is absolutely not anything normally found in Southern Weyr. The figure pads in with the sort of effortless glide that elicits little sound on the floor, easily angles away from a suddenly-scootched out chair, and continues to the bar, her pale regard sweeping the room. Small knots of drinkers seem mostly gathered around tables with games on them, though there is the necessary installment of two young men earnestly discussing something and sketching pictures on a piece of scrap hide.

Already here an hour or so, D'ex has a single, half-full tankard at his elbow and a hand of cards in one fist. Though trying to seem far more along on the drinks than he actually is, it does not seem to be helping his game tonight. D'ex frowns at the cards. Perhaps they would looks more promising from a slightly different angle. Nope. Luck as been terrible tonight and as the door flies open to emit another patron, it only seems to be getting worse. D'ex's glance up is out of habit than actual interest in the new comer, eyes immediately back on his cards and half a second later his head jerks up again, "What the hell." The cards are dropped on the table, his bets for the night forgit as the bluerider stands and steps away from the game. He finishes the tankard in a few gulps, and starts to trail after the way-too-familure figure. When he reachs the bar a hand is waved for two shots, "Hello there stranger, I wasn't looking for ghosts, but then again, you still aren't one."

The voice calls to Zavyr, her regard zeroing in on the redheaded fellow and a momentary confusion clears quickly "Ah. Well then. You're still alive? How nice for your dragon." She half-smiles, to show there's no real rancor in her words, but she'd not have anticipated this reaction from the former pirate. As D'ex calls for a drink for both of them, shots even, Zavyr quirks her brow up. She grins and shakes her head, "They said Southern was desperate for riders, but I was not expecting this kind of welcome. Thank you. I'll get the next round." Assuming there will be a next round and these two have not devolved to blows. "You look well." Zav's eyes flick over the man, clinically, before she nods, "No one will talk to me here. They think I'm from Telgar. What's the news?"

One of the shots is placed down in front of Zavyr as D'ex takes a seat on the stool, nodding seriously, "Yes, yes, he appreicates that, I am sure." D'ex is far better dressed then when Zav would have ever seen him before. His clothing not only obsessivly clean now, but no longer threadbare and worn. A sword still hangs at D'ex's hip, but it is not one Zav knows, nor does it have the look of a weapon that is used. "Dead people make people desprate, that's how that goes. You will not be paying for anything." The words come easily, and D'ex shrugs, throwing back his shot without waiting for the other bluerider, "You look like someone from Telgar. And they are asses. Apparenlty they have enough sway to keep females off the sands this Search and wings with fighting females are having inner issues. Though, I can't imagine you having too much of a hard time with that Z'vyr. Where are you from if not here with the wretches? I honestly didn't think you'd step foot on this half of the planet again."

She reaches for the shot and considers it. Perhaps it's a gesture toward camaraderie that has her finally lifting the shot, toasting, "To bygones being bygones.", and then throwing the drink back. A shudder passes through the woman, suggesting that she still hasn't taken up drinking for sport, and she slams the glass down with a bit more force than she'd normally, as the drink sears its way down. Eyes watering just slightly, Zav looks over at D'ex and nods. It's a reasonable question. "Something happened in Igen and I had to leave." She will leave to D'ex' imagination what sort of incident may have occurred; likely it'll be far from the truth. "I had to get away. I thought about coming down here, but it was still too close. I went to High Reaches for a bit." She pauses, as if considering how much honesty a drink might buy, but exhales a sigh. "Lane's buried up there, at the Hold. They're good riders. We learned alot." She pauses, studying the empty shot glass for a bit, before exhaling a few more quieter words, "There was time to heal. No one asking questions. Then I volunteered for a Telgar swap. Nynnth can sustain flame as well as a brown, and my wingleader thought we could show the Telgar riders a thing or two." She shakes her head and looks sidelong at D'ex, lowering her voice, "It's a different world there, D'ex. And as the law of irony would have it, it's the first time we were seriously injured. Nynnth took a scoring that grounded us." -Naturally proving to the Telgar riders that females have no business on fighting dragons, despite the nearly flawless record that Zavyr and Nynnth had, of NOT being scored. "We'd have come with the others, but had to get cleared for flight again." She pauses as the second shot arrives, "I could not have endured much longer there." That last, also, spoken softly.

D'ex leans forward against the bar, one hand running through his hair. He watches the drink go down with a smirk, raising a hand to call for a refill for both of them. "Bygones being bygones indeed." Lane… .who was Lane… . D'ex had only heard the name a few times, but the image of the person himself will be summoned with crystal clarity despite the name being dusty. He doesn't reply to this right away, one finger running over the edge of his empty shotglass, "Good. I … . I'm happy for you. That is needed sometimes… . I guess you could say that I, or we, are healing too. But different scars. I'm with someone now, not sure how that happened, but he is perhaps the best human being in Pern. You'd probably like him, he's got a good scowl that I think you could match pretty easily." The attempt is toward a lighter tone to this reunion, and as the shotglasses are refilled, D'ex nods, clearly Zavyr has experience with the asshole-ery of the Tegs. Good to hear at least that conversation didn't need to happen, "You here to stay then? The weather is far nicer here than High Reaches at any rate and usually the people are nicer than Teglar. Once our lovely visiting guests take thier leave, things should go back to normal. Granted, they probably won't be gone til these eggs are impressed and grown. Or perhaps our Threadfall will finally straighten itself out and go back to nice consistent fall-schedules. I don't think those people are the sort that should have to be endured, but knocking any sense into any of them would be more trouble than it's worth."

At the pronoun in D'ex' admission that he has found someone, Zav peers sidelong with the whisper of a grin about her lips. She'd not have him figured for that, but appreciates that she missed what are probably obvious signs. "Good for you." The sincerity cannot be mistaken. "For finding the best human being on Pern. And one who scowls. That has to add some spice to your world." She grins then, before looking at the second shot. "Once I figured out Telgar… I spent a lot of time at the various holds, checking in with Watchriders, or doing volunteer sweeps, or just…" Buggering out, where she could get away - just exploring the wilds in that area of the planet. "I'm hoping Southern will keep us. We're officially attached to Telgar. How is it that Southern got to be so desperate? Have the falls down here been so… Unmanageable, or have the queens not been laying?" The question is genuine, not posed as criticism.

"I know right? Brownrider. Weird dragon. Lots of spice. Will introduce you sometime and leave out all the important details." If the glance or smirk is noticed, D'ex makes no sign of it, unwilling to give a name of his special someone just yet. D'ex tosses back his second shot and offers another nod, "That sounds like a reasonable thing to do to avoid being surrounded by dimwits. They are horrid and I wish they would pack up sooner." This last question will bring another nod, "Yeah, things were fine, but suddenly all the predictions started being off, surprise falls in bad weather conditions. The queens were doing great, new gold and everything, but new riders flying hard falls means that a lot of them didn't have the time to get the experience to last. We've had this sort of thing happen before, but not to this degree of loss. It's been ridiculous. That we even had to reach out for help to be able to host a full fall is ridiculous. And of course who can help is them. Still, I'm sure Southern would be happy to have you if none of their bad habits have rubbed off."

"I'm not Telgar." Zavyr intones. "I was just visiting. Then I was looking for a way to get out. This might be a happy circumstance." She takes the second shot and downs it, tears coming to her eyes again, before she looks back over at D'ex with a grin. "I've enjoyed this. And I'd like to meet your brownrider." She nods. "Thank you. Next time, I buy. Nynnth's scar is itching and he's insisting I return right now to address it. Good to see you, D'ex. We'll pick up… Where we've left off here. If you have anyone's ear," she bids, "Put in a good word for me. For a wing that is mostly Southern." A half-smile twitches across her features as she rises and executes a theatrical bow toward D'ex. Then she'll turn and head out, that same flurry of leathery wings interfering effectively with her exit.