Early, way earlier than she would prefer to be up, Dione is in fact making her way through the Living Cavern. There's a remote expression on her face, a look that's got more to do with sleepwalking than cogitation, and it's by some miracle that she manages to make it to the little round tables to sink into the seats. At her side, a large covered basket, presumably filled with laundry. For the moment, she's got her eyes closed and all her attention fixed on the steaming mug in her hand — not klah, some sort of herbal tea blend.

Ebben arrives near the same time as Dione, careful to avoid jostling the pretty redhead as he allows her sleepy shuffle some spac. Though an herbalist by specialty, the Journeyman is a klah drinker by nature, and this locates him at the kettle with a fresh mug and a dab of cream as he takes his morning habit to the breakfast spread. A few meats sliced thin are scooped up and a couple herbed rolls. The healer is relaxed in his search for a table, noting the redhead from earlier, he settles across from her, saving his disarming smile as her eyes are currently closed. However, the soft shuffle and scrape of plate-on-table and mug nearby should alert the barmaid to her company. For his part, Ebben simply tucks a hand into one pocket and pulls out a lithe looking little blue, who immediately scrambles down his wrist and begins delicately tearing at the offered meat scraps while the healer tears into a roll.

Ebben, the saint that he is for not disturbing her first sip of tea of the morning, is offered a sleepy, pretty smile as she opens her eyes. "Heyyy," she greetings, half-slurring it, as she struggles to focus; when she does, it's as if wakefulness slides into her like sunshine. "Hey, Ebben!" She reaches over the table to pat his hand, a remnant from their Candidacy journey together, and offers her mug to clink against his. Botanica's asleep under the sheet covering the washing, if the lump there is to believed, and doesn't stir. Fed already, from the Kitten's kitchen, possibly. "How are you? All grown up and journeymanning forth, I see."

Ebben smiles brightly at Dione as he clasps her patting hand in his momentarily. "Dione." Ahh, candidacy. Nothing like a few months up at the Ice Hold to bond a group. Serac continues nibbling, soft blue wings crumpled to his back in casual comfort. The Journeyman gives his knot a glance as his fingers play along the newly oiled haunches of his firelizard and a sly grin is imparted for Dione. "So I did, turns out that greenhouse idea was pretty clutch." He says it with a self-effacing sort of humor, but the twinkle in his eye belays his pride at the project. "And how have you been? How's the kitten?"

"The Kitten is as it's always been, boisterous in the evenings and quiet in the mornings." It quite tosses her life upside-down at times. A sip of tea later, she eyebrows that mug of klah but doesn't comment. "All graduated now, but for us two." And the rest of the Candidates — frankly, she doesn't remember many of their names. "But tell me when you walked the tables though, and what it was like." Her eyes squinch in merry enjoyment. "Did they finally realise your good graces, and choose to keep them before some pretty girl here at the Weyr stole you away?"

Ebben snorts, his smile charming in its sincerity, though there's a roguish tint to his gaze, something that comes with familiarity. "I hardly see any of them anymore, it's a shame," he shrugs, though his expression does not drop with the consideration. "I suppose the life of riding keeps those who made it busy. The rest, well, it has been long enough…" he unfolds his hands in a little gesture of helplessness when it comes to continued recognition. It was a fairly big class, and he had little interaction with all of them, as the cliques formed along a hundred fault lines. "The table walk was a bit of a surprise to be honest, and they called my name last." A snort as he sips at his klah, tearing away a bit of the roll to offer it to Dione. "Pretty girls? Eh, there's a few around that may sweep me up yet." A wink, and soon he's munching, allowing the roll to keep him from flirting further. Serac, done with his scraps, scoots his small haunches backwards until his seated frame is pressed against the chest of Ebben, and he watches Dione and her lumped laundry with drifting interest.

There's a small tent in the laundry, which moves every now and then, and on occasion a sleepy cheep sounds from beneath, the sound of a firelizard well-fed and well-inclined to have a solid nap. Her human takes the roll from Ebben, murmurs her appreciation for it, and nibbles off a piece of it. "More than a few, I'd think. I should try for you myself, if I weren't eternally single." That, at least, is a joke, made so by her grin. Sitting back against the chair's back she stretches out her legs to one side, concentrating on the toes of her boots. "That place was really dreadful," she reminisces. "I felt cold all the time." A pause. "We should go and visit it again some day, so that we can laugh at the people stuck there, and enjoy a picnic lunch on the boat back."

Ebben tips a look towards the lumpy form of the sleepy cheeper beneath the linens before he chuckles into his klah, nearly upending the mug with sloshing. "So, it's a trip for the petty, then?" He puts down his drink, giving his speckled chin a rub to clear away the frothed klah before leaning in a bit. "As on board as I typically am at laughing at other people's misfortunes," his tone says otherwise, but he's clearly amused, "I don't think now is the time to head up there. I know Renalde is painting a very pretty picture of the work, but we've been there, and we know the short comings." Cold, being a major one. "Haven't you been hearing the rumors? I wouldn't dream of letting you go up there, even with an escort." He's protective of his acquaintances, particularly those that work at the Kitten and fall under the jurisdiction of his predominant romantic interest.

"You," Dione states, "are a spoilsport, sir." It is clear, however, that she's not bothered, given the smile she bestows on him. "We shall still have to go out sometime — I would like to spend at least one afternoon in the company of a good man, no matter how Sevreni might eye me afterwards. No entanglements, just lunch." Perhaps she's lonely. "Or go on one of your herb jaunts? I've neglected spending much time outside the Weyr, and jogging along the inside does tend to get dull at times."

Ebben beams, tipping his chin on an upturned hand as he peeks over at Dione. "I'd be more than happy to take you out for an afternoon." Sevreni can't fault a friendship, especially one that is as educational as it is enjoyable. "I found a good cache of numbweed a bit further out then the average healers are accustomed to going, but what's a little adventure between friends?" The klah is knocked back and Serac scooped up. "Dione, I'm sorry for the short visit, but that greenhouse is being tended by the least capable of my apprentices." A little wink as he moves a hand forward, palm opened and inviting of her own. "In a couple days, care to come harvest that numbweed with me? Pack a lunch?"

The 'tender takes her cue from him, grinning. "Of course I will!" she announces, lifting her face and presenting a cheek for an informal hug. "I'll see you when you have a moment free. As long a we do it during the day, it shouldn't require and off day. My next one is only in two sevens. Good luck with the apprentices!"

Ebben returns the hug and moves to a stand. "Until then!" And he's off, small blue cradled in one hand.