Despite the early hour, it's blisteringly hot outside, but down in the deeper caverns it's cool, especially if one keeps away from the shaft of sunlight coming from the small window. The space is pleasantly empty, too - just the thing if you want some peace and quiet to work in pleasant surroundings. R'zel has brought his admin tasks down, and he's taking advantage of an uncrowded space to get a few jobs done. He's pulled a chair up to one of the desks and he's busily writing something, though there are hides spread around, from one of which he seems to be transferring information to his new document.

Z'bor isn't the only one seeking peace and quiet this morning, it seems. As he descends into the garden area, it's immediately apparent that there's another at work here. However, upon recognition, Z'bor is more than happy to find R'zel down here. He won't disturb the man overly long, but he must say hello at least. He weaves through the garden beds over to where R'zel has made camp and gives the man a clap on the shoulder. "Mornin' friend." Z'bor has his own stack of hidework in hand and takes up residence at the nearest desk.

R'zel looks up and grins as he spots his friend and a stack of hides. "Morning, Z'bor. Are you looking for a quiet spot for hidework, too? Great minds think alike, eh? I'm trying to work out if we could do our sweep schedule a bit more efficiently. Some of the routes can be carved up more than one way…" He does't go into detail, but it's clear that there are a couple of maps among the hides that he's brought down here. "How's things?"

Z'bor laughs. "Quiet is an upside, but I think the most prominent goal at the moment is not melting in the soupy air outside." Z'bor is a child of the heat, loves summer and openly despises cold weather, but what's occurring outside right now is just too much. "I have some reports to fill out, and I'm making notes on who I'd like to tap into Serval when the weyrlings graduate. Been eyeing a few since the hatching." At mention of sweeps, Z'bor sets his hides down and looks over at what R'zel is working on. "Aye, keeping our routes covered is becoming a bit of a pain for us too. But graduation will get us some relief, eh?" Though, there's something in Z'bor's tone that says he's trying to make himself believe it too. Yes, Southern will have upwards of ninety new riders, a swell in numbers for sure. But that's ninety inexperienced riders with a lot weighing on their proverbial shoulders, forgive Z'bor if he's nervous.

"Yes, and there should be several for each wing, too - not just the usual couple. I've got my eye on a few, for sure." R'zel sounds quite positive, until he adds, "I just hope we manage to keep them in one piece a bit longer this time. One of my last pair of new riders is going to be out for most of this turn - that is, if her dragons's ever fit enough to fly Fall again." He brightens at the next thought, though: "And another clutch on the way! Even if the result of the flight was a bit unexpected, more dragons have to be good news." He lays his pen down and turns so that he can face Z'bor more easily.

Z'bor aims a look of sympathy R'zel's way. "We can all hope the dragon makes a good recovery, though this life doesn't come without its losses. Still, we endure." Z'bor nods along when R'zel starts up talk of the clutch on its way. "Aye! It was a surprise when that Telgari rider and his mate won. Wonder if he caught back home before Treista joined us. It'll be an interesting change. Let's just hope Yorprith doesn't give us more eggs than we can handle, that first clutch of hers was quite big."

R'zel laughs. "It was, wasn't it." He seems to be listening to something for a moment, then grins. "Verokanth says he's quite certain that this clutch will be smaller. He was quite put out that he didn't catch again - but I certainly wasn't!" He gives a thoughtful nod, still smiling. "But I don't think there's any such thing as too many eggs, in our current situation. I mean, we're not likely to have another double clutch, so it won't be anything like the last lot, and if the weyrlingstaff can manage that, they can manage anything. The senior class will be through before the Hatching, too. Maybe our new Weyrleader will be able to talk someone into being Weyrlingmaster, though - that'd be helpful."

Z'bor has to chuckle at Verokanth a little, but he'd be proud too if he were the bronze. "I'm quite glad I never have to worry about that end of things, I'd make an awful Weyrleader, I like to surf too much." He listens as R'zel talks about the upcoming clutch and has to smile and shake his head. "Not likely no, but around here, I wouldn't discount anything. The least expected always seems to happen in Southern…" He finally shrugs off the rucksack that's occupied his shoulders since he woke this morning and digs through for a writing utensil and finally sets to work. "A solid Weyrlingmaster would be nice, though I think the AWLM's did well with this batch considering."

"I think P'quil has been pretty much taking the lead, even though he wouldn't take the knot again." R'zel gives a slight twitch of the shoulders. "Can't say I blame him - casualties are bad enough as a wingleader: it must be worse when they're weyrlings. And flying resupply is always going to be risky. Still, they aren't doing badly so far. And it'll certainly be a relief when there are two more golds clutching." He gives a grin that's only partly sympathetic. "M'kel must be wondering what's hit him, too. This place is really not like Telgar."

Z'bor nods in agreement with R'zel and then laughs. "Aye, I'm sure it'll be quite the culture swap for the poor man." He can remember how long it took Treista to adjust to Southern's …quirkier side. "Still, he'll have Treista to help him settle in. I'll admit though, it has been amusing watching some of these Telgari get used to things down here." He's wondering how they're all doing with the humidity when even the Weyr's own residents are fleeing the oppressive heat.

"Well, you'll be a novelty, for one thing." R'zel's grinning at his friend, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and there's a hint of concern there. "Greenriding wingleaders are definitely not a Telgar thing." Yes, that's a wry twist of the lips. "And my father reckons some of the leadership they've got take 'starchy' to a whole new level of stiffness, even though they got a fair few oldtimers there as well." He adds, "I wondered if he'd move, but he's got kids there." R'zel's a regular visitor to Telgar Weyr rather than a frequent one, now that he's a wingleader, but he's surely mentioned the half of his family that's there to Z'bor.

Z'bor shrugs. "I doubt he'll find reason to replace me…But should my leadership prove distasteful to him, he's well within his rights as Weyrleader to replace me. I'd like to see him try though, no one knows Serval better than I, saving perhaps, Rielle. He may have a hard time getting his riders in line he shakes things up too much." Z'bor may run a tight, tight ship, but he's got the respect of his wing, if nothing else. "You thinking about asking your Da' to move here?"

"I can ask, I suppose." R'zel sounds uncertain. "From what he's said, he'd like it here. But I don't think he'd come - the latest kid is only five, and my sisters are there. And I'm picking up hints from my sister that there's another… not weyrmate exactly, but another relationship." The corner of his mouth quirks. "Father's being cagey about it, though, which I'm learning usually means he thinks I wouldn't approve. And he likes his Wing. Telgar's pretty good when it comes to Threadfighting, and he likes that part of it."

Z'bor nods. "Aye, well, family matters can be tricky things. You wouldn't catch me Mam anywhere outside Ista. She's rooted deeper than our oldest trees." Z'bor sighs at the last though, sitting back in his chair and lifting his writing tool from the hides. "Aye, I've heard of Telgar's prowess in that area, lets hope they don't think us too lacking in discipline." And he's bouncing topics. "Why would your Da think you wouldn't approve?" Aye. He's asking for gossip, anything to distract the mind from Southern's dire state of late.

R'zel shrugs. "Maybe he thinks I won't like her, or something. Though I'm not sure… Valeiza wouldn't even tell me her name, which isn't like her. And she went all giggly when I asked" In a wry tone, he adds, "My middle sister is a mine of information. She should have been on the harper side of the family." He too can switch topic! "They seem fairly conventional in their choice of formations, from what Father's told me. I don't think they have the range of climates to deal with that we have."

Z'bor just listens happily as R'zel chats about his family. "Well, girls do like to gossip." He says of the sister being a well of information. "Must be interesting coming from such a large family." He comments idly. Z'bor's is getting there, Weyrmate, kids, lover…it's a giant complicated web and he loves every moment of it, and all of it is new to him. He came from a very small family. And back on to wing formations! "Telgar is mostly plains is it not? Their patterns are probably a mite more predictable than ours as well."

"Some of it's hilly, and they've got mountains in the north of their coverage, and the Central range that runs down to Igen." R'zel's seen some maps, apparently. "Nothing tropical. I must have another chat with Dh'mick about it, though - that's the brownrider that's joined us. You never know what you can learn from how other people do things."

Z'bor nods. "You've got the right of it there. And some fresh ideas on the table are more than welcome at this point." Z'bor moves to begin writing again, but instead pauses and gets the oddest look on his face. A moment later his stomach makes an audible complaint against being empty and Z'bor looks up somewhat embarrassed. "Pardon me. Apparently I forgot breakfast this morning." And his body is done waiting for him to remember it. Sighing, he begins packing up. He had intended on getting some work done, but apparently he must tend to other needs first.

"That won't do," R'zel smiles. "Go and get something to eat. I'll see you later. I'm destined for a morning of hidework, so I won't be going anywhere. Clear skies!" He turns back to his schedules and pulls one of the maps towards him, then picks up his pen. Soon he's engrossed in the details, and lo! Ocelot really will have a more efficient sweep schedule by the time he's finished.