Oh, the awkwardness. Mating flights. Well… they are awkward for MOST PEOPLE. And then there's K'ane, sitting behind his scarred desk like it's no big thing, despite the fact that there are an assortment of PUPPETS. Yeah. PUPPETS GUYS, HAND PUPPETS… in front of him, spread out in disarray over the surface of the desk itself. An area has been cleared for a portion of the senior weyrlings to mull into — it'll be close quarters, people brushing up against one another, squeezing in for space. That can't NOT be by design.

Awkward? Pffft. Come oooon. This is Prymelia. Who is currently looking about as awkward as fish with legs trying to fly using its fins. So that would be her, slinking in and situating riiiiight at the back. Preferably behind someone tall and broad those puppets given a dirty look as she peeks around someone's shoulder. "What is this?" She mutters to someone shoved up against her shoulder. "Sex ed 101 with fardling wings?"

T'ral is posted up at K'ane's shoulder, just behind and to the side and that can't NOT be by design either. He is standing at his ease, checking names off of a clipboard as weyrlings enter. His dark eyes scan the faces and mark the roster as folks file in, stuffed into close proximity. It's a good talk. "Sex Ed 201. 101 is Human Sexuality." Scan, scan… "Prymelia. Check." He looks for all the world like this is truth. His brows go up attentively awaiting other bordering-on-late Weyrlings.

K'lir hesitates at the door of the close quarters of the Weyrlingmaster's office as he sees the other Sr. weyrlings already crowding the room. Taking a deep breath, he squeezes his bulk in to lean against the wall where he'll not loom too much over the shorter weyrlings. Hearing Prymelia's voice so close, he glances at her with a smile and shrugs his broad shoulders. "I guess so. Probably just to make you ladies more uncomfortable though." The young man isn't at all embarrassed, he's already got kids after all so this is all 'no big deal', right?

Niyati eyes that desk suspiciously. In some professions it's been said that a clean desk is the sign of a disturbed mind, but when that desk is littered with puppets one has to wonder. The fact that she's packed in like salted fish with other weyrlings doesn't seem to bother her. Then again, that groan of pain from behind her and the innocent look on her face could be the reason. "I do hope this isn't a lingering lesson," she whispers toward Prymelia. "Someone forgot that bath time is a daily thing." A smirk answers K'lir's words. "We ladies and a few young men."

Seriously. Just look over to Ko'rei, who looks like he's about to pass out in a nervous wreck. Poor child. :(

"Everyone sit!" comes K'ane's voice, booming. "Yeah, yeah, I know y'can all fit, we've tested it." That had to have been hilarious. "Cross-legged on the floor, children, c'mon." With one quick grin to K'lir, he gestures everyone down so he can SEE them all (that's right Prym, no more hiding!) and smiles benignly at Niyati. "Wingleader. Are you excited about mating flights?"

Ha! NBD!! "… … the … … at some … will … … glowworm … through … night." Prymelia mutters under her breath. Sorry, K'lir, T'ral, K'ane and anything else associated with a male dragon, no smiles for YOU! Just narrowed looks. Niyati of course, she gets a wry snort for her comment about poor bathing habits. "Bet we could tag team him." She says of S'tinky. Purse lipped for the command to sit, she does as bidden elbowing the brownrider on the other side of her accidentally-on-purpose.

K'lir groans along with everyone else when they are told to sit but the tall bronzer manages to slide down the wall into a cross-legged position. He wonders if he's going to end up with someone in his lap before everyone gets settled down. He chuckles softly at the grin K'ane sends his way before his gaze is caught by Niyati's narrowed look. The greenrider gets his best 'what'd I do' look of innocense before he trots out his more predatory leer that looks like he's a feline ready to pounce on a choice morsel.

"K'lir. Niyati." That's the lot of them. OH! "Ko'rei." Didn't see him there, slumped weakly against the bookshelf. He marks the last of the names down and puts the clipboard to the side. This is K'ane's show. They had tested it. And it WAS hilarious. T'ral's August Mien may falter a little, a lip twitch, quickly schooled to neutrality. This was srs biness. K'lir's predatory look is noted. Prymelia's elbowing and no-smiling, noted. Niyati's … well… dark eyes turn towards Niyati, awaiting her reply to K'ane's question with carefully bland interest.

Niyati raise an eyebrow and grins. "You mean all of that unbridled lust and random sex?" Maybe she's just trying to make Ko'rei faint. "Who wouldn't be? It's positively scandalous." She does manage to find an area in which to sit as directed and nods to Prymelia's suggestion. "You take the bucket, I'll get the scrubbing brush," she agrees, making a scrubbing motion over her elbow to indicate just how much she thinks said Weyrling needs a bath. K'lir earns a chuckle that she stifles lest she be called on it. "As if any bronze could catch Kaiyth," She teases. "You might want to give that look to a weyrwoman, though." Really, she'll watch.

"Behave," K'ane rumbles out to K'lir, though the word comes out terribly amused. Notable is his absence of expression Prymelia-wards — is he leaving her for LATER? Niyati receives the full consideration of K'ane's attention. After, he has a deep chuckle, a reverberation from sound from a powerful chest. "Well, that's one way t' look at it. T'ral!" he half-barks, swiveling in his chair to cast a glance up at his assistant. "What was it like, th' first time you chased?"

K'lir can't help the laugh that bursts out at Niyati's return teasing though she does manage to make the young bronzerider blush a little at the thought of giving that look to any of their weyrwomen. His head shakes as he quiets himself, amber eyes sparkling with amusement. "No thanks, I value my hide attached to my bones." Glancing toward Ko'rei, the young man sighs at the possibility of the other man fainting though he figures it'll happen to someone eventually … even if it's just from the heat of so many bodies crowded in this small room. When K'ane rumbles at him, he falls silent and turns his attention to the front of this 'class'. He looks at T'ral with interest, this is going to be new and probably interesting information.

Niyati flashes a smile at K'lir. "Brains and looks," she answers in a complimentary tone. To K'ane, she shrugs. "There's no sense in being afraid of inevitabilities." She does take a moment to glance over at Prymelia and gives her fellow greenrider an encouraging grin. "As long as that inevitability bathes." Ko'rei is glanced toward but she's not going to stare. If the boy falls over there are plenty of bodies to catch him.

This wasn't part of the rehearsal. K'ANE IS OFF SCRIPT! T'ral's eyebrows hike so hard the shock of them skidding into his hairline sends a reverberation through the upright frame. He blinks and thinks a moment, hiked brows dropping, "The first time I recall, Sir," he casts his mind back. "Wasn't long after I came back to duty." Eyes fog, "Igen. A green went up, one that Esanth chased before. He's sweet on her, I think." The slightly addled memory-sifting look slips fond at his dragon's odd and singular focus. Uh. "She'd been his first, actually. Catch, I mean." T'ral is studiously not looking at Prymelia. "Mine too." A deep breath and his face shifts, fondness turning fierce. "'s different with everyone, Sir, but," his chest expands. The former Harper's voice drops low, "Esanth is beautiful when he chases." The bluerider's eyes are alight, "Everything out there, pushed to the limit, but… not out of duty." He pauses, lips pursed, nose wrinkling as he searches out the right words, "…just life. He loves to fly." He clamps his teeth shut with a clack, jaw muscles bunching. He swallows. "The first time," that he remembers, he laughs, a sardonic huff, "He lost. But, damn, he was gorgeous."

See, K'ane's an asshole. Haven't you guys figured that one out yet? During T'ral's answer, an INTERESTING PHENOMENON occurs: K'ane, see, has decided these things need visual representation! T'ral waxed off about how beautiful his lifemate is, and K'ane hand-puppets a green up into the air. He's pretty damn good at it, too, showing her fleeing to the skies, skittish like a horse. AND HERE COMES A BLUE roaring after her. When T'ral gets to the 'He lost' part, K'ane effects this by the simple efficiency of shaking the blue puppet off. It falls to the ground. "And after a flight you've lost? How d'you feel?" He keeps the green up there, frozen in time for a moment, conversating with T'ral as if he's not putting on this hilarious puppet show and that they don't have an audience of twenty-something weyrlings.

That must be one STUBBORN thread because Prymelia doesn't once look up during the reply given except maybe to glance at those puppets flitting through the air, her mouth curving about an odd little line when the blue one goes falling to the ground. Next to her, the brownriding weyrling is snickering and whispering with his blueriding mate. The snippets of a mutter picked up that when cobbled together, "…green…always…wins…" finds the redhead leaning back slightly. Not a half second later there's a yelp from said brownrider now rubbing at his arse and glaring furiously at Prymelia who is all of a sudden eyes front and VERY interested in the lecture complete with animated puppetry.

K'lir listens with interest at T'ral's description of his blue's first chase and frowns slightly. Most people wouldn't call his bulky, soot-darkened, block-like dragon gorgeous even though the bronze is quite an elegant flier in the air. The addition of the puppets distracts the bronzer from T'ral's explanation as he snickers softly enough it could have come from anyone around him.

Puppets. For a flight lesson. Niyati watches the display with disturbed attention. K'ane might be an asshole, but he's an asshole who plays with puppets. Her train of thought is disturbed by that yelp and she gives Prymelia an approving grin before turning her attention back to T'ral. He's got a question to answer, after all. Not that she'll need the info. As the mutterer said, the green always wins, but curiosity is still there. At least, once she stops her own muffled laugh- THANK YOU, K'LIR.

Ah, heh. K'ane. ASShole. "It was more like," T'ral twists, arms going up, were T'ral a dragon in flight, he be showing an Immelmann, "…that, but you've got the gist." Jerk. "After." Huge jerk. "Ah… heh." The bluerider scratches at his jaw, looking down, or, rather, without focus into the press of weyrlingflesh. He doesn't see Prymelia's clothing maintenance, though he'd approve - there's a thread on his jacket that is suddenly riveting. "Frustrated. Energized. Usually nothing a good long run or a tumble can't fix." Usually. Dark eyes flick up to that huff of laughter, narrowing briefly at K'lir as if to ask, 'Et tu, K'lir?' His eyes drop to the floor and he flicks a look out at the weyrlings. Candid talk, it'd only help. "Esanth's curious, though. He's attached to that green and, uh, it took some, uh," brows flick up, and K'ane is set with a look, "doing to work through his," not T'ral's nopenopenope, "Frustration." Call your doctor if… "You need a puppet for that?" The 'ASSHOLE,' is felt if not stated. He bares teeth at the weyrlings, Hi Niyati, bared teeth just for joo.

"What's he trying to say, kids," K'ane bluntly amends T'ral's statements, "Is that it's really fuckin' easy t' get blue balls after y' miss a flight. And sometimes you have lifemates who think it's fuckin' hilarious to pull you away from a nice solid flight fuck to wash them RIGHT after they are done." Welcome to Mating Flights with K'ane, everyone. "For those of y'with male dragons, ye'll figure out a way t' work off the excess. There's a reason the holders call th' lower caverns girls whores after all, aye?" So, so sorry, lower cavern workers. "Anyhow. Any questions on losin' flights before we go on?" He slips T'ral a grin askance: "If not, our thanks, T'ral, for that… stunning representation of a flight loss." Such an asshole.

T'ral mutters, "He … …" to K'ane.

K'ane mutters, "… used to, until I … … … … … off." to T'ral.

T'ral might just choke a bit. Ahem. Water. We got water in here, yeah? WATER.

From K'ane to the puppets to T'ral to K'lir to Niyati, Prymelia's gaze slides, coming to rest sideways on her fellow greenrider for a moment with something akin to 'Aww, poor babies,' muttered under her breath with lips barely moving. Hey! That could have come from Ko'rei. Her expression of course is nothing but RAPT attention, the smile she wears as bland as lumpy oatmeal.

Okay, maybe this lesson isn't going to be such a breeze as K'lir had thought. The frank talk from K'ane makes even the ex-hunter blush a bit at the imagery that comes to mind. He isn't all that sure how he'd work off that frustration though he suspects it'd involve a lot of alcohol. A shake of his head answers K'ane's question of having questions before the young man is sliding covert glances toward his fellow weyrlings though he avoids catching anyone's gaze if he can help it.

Niyati frowns. "Well, that's a horrible thing to say if they're not being paid for their services." However, she's not quite done just yet. "I think our bronzeriders might benefit from an explanation of how it feels to lose from your perspective, K'ane." It's a helpful suggestion from an ever helpful Weyrling. "You could use your puppets." Look, chromatics need to stick together, even if she did chuckle before. IT WAS TOTALLY K'LIR'S FAULT. She half grins at Prymelia, sharing that sentiment. Poor men. "… naked dragon bathing…" Now there's something to consider.

From Prymelia goes a low five goes to Niyati both for her suggestion and her latter comment, evil the smirk that appears.

Lower caverns girls or, say, visiting goldriders weyrs who you stumbled into accidentally brain fogged with flight lust. You know. Like you DO. Math, T'ral can do it. Wait, wait, wait. To K'ane: "Is THAT why you run all the time?" Blurted. Whoops. His brows hike. "That's our side. It's uncomfortable on the losing end, yeah, but you'll learn to deal. And you young folk, your dragon isn't likely to chase if you're not ready." Taking a page from K'ane's book, "So you've got time to sort sex out on your own terms. And, uh, we recommend that you do." Lower caverns girls, boys, whatever. Git ye some. "So, I've shared quite enough," T'ral bares teeth at K'ane, "And now I know why you wanted me here, K'ane. THANK YOU." Not so much. "I've got to get our riveting interweyr politics," like the etiquette of screwing itinerant goldriders after flight losses while in a strange weyr, "lecture ready for later. You're gonna be begging for the sex talk. It's RIVETING. You'll excuse me." T'ral inclines his head to K'ane and picks his way carefully through the press of riders. A brow arched at K'lir and a sympathetic look. He nods to the ladies, Prymelia, Niyati, "Next bit's all you." T'ral slips through the door. Tata!

Oh, Niyati. K'ane grins at her, crookedly. He sees what you are DOING THERE, greenrider. But before he can answer T'ral is FUCKING OUTING HIM and the bronzerider's head S-L-O-W-L-Y turns to consider T'ral. Deadpan: "There ain't that many greenflights," but there ARE, aren't there? "Well. Losin' a goldflight is a wee bit different than losin' a greenflight. They are far more intense, an' the gold will broadcast as she's takin' her pleasure, aye? So you'll have this cockblock of a pissed off bronze in your head simultaneous to your body sayin' it's time t' go get dirty with some busty brunette." He affixes Niyati with a fond little smile: "That answer your question?" And then, right on the edge of that: "SHOW OF HANDS. Who's a virgin?"

K'lir takes note of T'ral's exit and nods gratefully at the bluerider's sympathetic expression before turning his attention back to the lecture. As uncomfortable as he is right now, it seems a lost flight is going to be moreso. And K'ane's continued comments pretty much confirm that. His mind works to figure out just how he might handle this since when Bryntaeroth gets irritated, the brazen bells in his mind are absolutely stunning so he can't even walk much less think. K'ane's question nets a blink-blink before it soaks in but he keeps his hands resolutely in his lap as he watches how many of his fellow weyrlings have to raise their hands.

Niyati considers the answer as if she's turning over every detail and then nods. The only apologetic look she gives is toward the two or three bronze Weyrlings she's fond of (including K'lir). "I think that's a pretty clear answer. I suppose that running would be enough destraction." But then T'ral's gone and they're left with K'ane. Oh this is going to get interesting. She's not even going to look at the number of hands that are raised or who they belong to. None of them belong to her, so she's going to continue to keep her eyes on K'ane with the exception of a brief grin Prymelia-ward. She has a few guesses.

T'ral finally earns himself a big ole SMIRK! Though what drives it remains unclear for the assistant weyrlingmaster is making his exit and K'ane, well, K'ane, is being K'ane. To Niyati, sotto voice: "See how he didn't use puppets for that? Must be 'cause the gold ones all dusted with glitter and the bronze one's scared he'll land on the floor like the blue one when the brown one kicks his ass." Ahem. There was a question? Quick as a wink Prymelia grabs the wrist of the scrawny brownrider on her other side and shoves it into the air. WHAT? She's helping!! "S'tinky wants to know the name of the busty brunette, sir." S'tinky who had been passing ALL those comments before, is now fishmouthing and turning a delightful shade of red. "S'okay." Prymelia pats him on the shoulder. "I'm sure the Weyrlingmaster can point you to a skan…erm…lower caverns girl."

"Prymelia," K'ane sternly states, "As you are so very concerned with th' sexual wellbeing of your fellow weyrling, I reckon you would be more than happy to be th' one t' help break him in, aye?" Ko'rei is doubtlessly making dying whale noises in the corner. K'ane takes in the scant handful of hands and addresses the class at large: "Aye, and I'm sure some of ye are virgins with th' gender you don't find appealing, if you're still clingin' to your hold-born notions." Thus speaketh the cotholder. "Get rid of it. Virginity in a dragonrider is about as necessary as eggs to a green. It can scar you for life. Y'need to know what's gonna happen or what could happen, an' that goes for all of you." Every. Last. Person. His eyes linger on each weyrling in turn, a slow appraisal that takes him all the way through the class. "And now, on t' proddiness…" Aw, shit.

Cue the innocent blink at the stern call of her name. But rather than being cowed by the suggestion made, Prymelia gives the scrawny chap the once over and utters a snort. "Aye, break." As in the snapping of twiggy arms and legs. But it serves its purpose and she holds to silence while sound advice is handed out to the uninitiated. In fact, she seems to rather be enjoying this whole mating flight lecture thing. Quite a lark really. Until…proddiness. "Bugger!"

And there's the topic of interest for every greenrider in the room. Sorry, Ko'rei. At least she's not all wide eyes and nervousness, though there is that look of one facing uncharted territory. Niyati glances at S'tinky and then Prymelia, but her chuckle gives way to concentration as she turns her attention back to K'ane. …and the puppets.

"Well, ladies — and gentlemen. This is for you." K'ane lifts the GREEN PUPPET again, prancing her around. "You're gonna get proddy. It'll happen sooner or later, an' statistics indicate that y'won't know what's goin' on the first time. I've heard some female greenriders say they feel like they're about t' go on their cycle — irritable an' uncharitable towards th' rest of humanity," PMS FOR THE WIN, "But sometimes proddiness can act as a slight, ah… inhibitor of judgment? Proddiness won't," he stresses this, "Change your personality totally. It'll just inform your opinions 'cause you are basically feelin' th' hormonal shift of your lifemate. After th' first time, it'll be better," he reassures, "But that first proddiness may take a toll." It's a fair warning, and he waits to make sure that his greenriders are keeping up.

Nope. Not Prymelia. NOT GONNA HAPPEN!! There may even be a minute shake of head. Because see here, Issaeryth is going to go up. It has been discussed and agreed upon. End OF!! And so, blithe the smile she sets K'ane and his puppet with.

"Sounds as if we're off easier than the riders of males," Niyati points out. "Hardly seems fair." Not that she has a TON of sympathy. Women have to go through the human version of this all the time, more or less. "So we just take our precautions and hope the person who rides the catching dragon bathes on a regular basis?" It's asked as if she didn't think it would be THAT simple.

Keep on dreamin', Prym. "Generally, yes," K'ane replies to Niyati. "Now, when your lifemate actually goes up… some of 'em will want to blood, some of 'em may not. I've seen it go both ways." He even demonstrates. There's totally a herdbeast prop that he POUNCES on in the latter demonstration. "Th' important thin — it's not nearly as important for you guys than for th' goldriders, of course, but it can still lead to injuries to your lifemates — is t' prevent them from eating. Some of 'em get confused, especially when they are young, and want to glut instead of fuck. An' that's generally bad for all parties involved." He eyes the assembly of riders, as if contemplating saying something.

Issaeryth promised!! But wait. "Hang on. They're not allowed to eat? Just…suck down the blood?" Someone has clearly not paid any attention to what golds do before throwing the Weyr into a state of hormonal disarray. "What…sort of 'generally bad for all parties involved'?" Prymelia asks eyeing the herdbeast ravaging puppet.

Niyati is either amused or vaguely disturbed by the puppet attack on the herdbeast prop. Perhaps it's both. "Is it the weight?" She's as confused as Prymelia on this one. She's been in Weyrs, but she's never had to consider this sort of problem before. Unfortunately, Kaiyth has made no such promises so this ex-weaver will have to gather as much information beforehand as she can.

"How long have you lived in a weyr, Prym?" K'ane's voice is almost exasperated. "Aye, blood only." His voice rumbles, brooks no argument. "No eating, just blood." He grimaces at her question; "Eating produces short flights, normally. And messy. If they are short enough that they don't get enough altitude, get high enough before they mate, they can crash before they're done, an', well. That's obviously not good." No shit sherlock.

"Well I was sort of wrapped around…" Um. Change of track. "I was busy the first time a gold went up and wasn't exactly inspecting herdbeast remains." Prymelia huffs. "And the other time I wasn't in the Weyr I was out on…" Her bluster comes to an abrupt end and she simply stares at K'ane for a few moments gone a little pale when he explains the possible consequences of their greens eating rather than blooding. "Well…that…" Congratulations Weyringmaster, Sir. You have achieved the nigh impossible and rendered Prymelia speechless.

K'ane \o/

Niyati watches the exchange, though she does manage to take in the information imparted. Congratulations, K'ane, you've broken Prym. "I expect that most people don't pay attention to that part unless they're riders or directly responsible for the herds," she assures her fellow greenrider. "No matter what they're engaged in. I'd certainly never know. Mating flights only have to do with clothing when they produce clutches."

"Blood only," K'ane firmly reiterates. "An' just.. be aware that flight sex isn't any sweet and soft affair, normally. You're feelin' all the lust an' the pleasure that your lifemate is feelin' on top of your own, and it can lends for… interesting aftermaths." Look at K'ane! Censoring himself! "Just be kind t' one another after." A gimlet stare for everyone: "Sometimes you'll end up with someone that y'would never ever want to be. It happens to us all. Th' key to staying solid as a weyr, I am certain t' my very fundament, is for people t' not treat flights as anything other than what they are: an expression of draconic sexual appetite. Just cause y' sleep with someone during a flight doesn't mean you are any different th' rest of the time. Doesn't change anything unless you let it change you. Y'hear me?" Again a long pause, and he gestures. "Any questions?"

The assurance offered by Niyati earns her a small smile before Prymelia's attention falls to her hands knotting and unknotting in her lap. Gone is the gregarious cover of earlier. In its place a small frown is stitched between elegantly shaped brows. Beneath downcast lashes, eyes flicker a look upwards with a strange sort of tilt sketching to her mouth though for what K'ane imparts is likely hard to pinpoint. "Aye." A quiet mutter that lifts up along with others acknowledging the firm demand given that they be kind to one another afterwards. "No chewing my arm off." Sardonic, she makes a valiant comeback. "How often can we expect them to go up?"

Niyati shakes her head. "I suppose keeping in mind that we might not be the catcher's dream come true either may be important." She does seem a tad surprised at the self censorship. Given the previous blunt speech, this must translate into incredibly colorful language. "Or kicking them off your ledge naked," she supplies as she nods to Prymelia. "Yes, that. How often can we expect this to happen?"

Coyote Ugly is a thing, people. "It's better t' pretend that you sleep like th' dead and just wait 'em out. Eventually they'll leave," K'ane assures Prymelia with a quirk to his lips. At the greenriders' question, he gives somewhat of a shrug. "It depends on th' green, t' be honest with ye both. I've seen as long as once every turn, as much as four to five times a turn. I'd say th' normal green goes up maybe twice, three times a turn. The precocious ones could go up as soon as ye're tapped into a wing, an' the last of ye will go up by th' time your lifemate's a turn and a half, usually."

Up arches a brow, K'ane set with a dry look. "Really? That's the best you've been able to come up with? Feigning sleep?" Because surely this piece of advice comes from the thick tome of Bronzerider Booty Call, right? "Men." That last a mutter aimed more for Niyati than any of the male types about. In contemplative silence Prymelia listens to the answer given and apparently she doesn't care for some of it given the twist of lips but at least she keeps her trap shut. "I make no promises." Silence broken with a wicked little grin sent Niyati's way for kicking someone naked off her ledge. "There's only so much arsehole I can deal with first thing in the morning. Flight or not."

Niyati chuckles. "It's not the worst solution I've ever heard. You'd skip the awkwardness, at any rate. …but, as Prymelia said, if they're the kind that sleeps in late you're stuck until they're out." There's a bit of deep thought and then a wicked grin curves her lips. "There's always a bucket of ice water and the excuse that you'd like to straighten up. You could skip awkward and go straight to them running away because they think you're psychotic."

"Watch out, Prym," K'ane states as he rises to his feet. "You're soundin' a little edgy. Issaeryth ain't glowin' yet, is she? Antsiness is th' first sign of proddiness for quite a bit of greenriders." His lazy smile for the weyrling is probably not appropriate in this context, but it's there, predatory and masculine and waiting. That's right, Prym. He's going to get you and your little green too! (Or something.) He dismisses his momentarily feigned wicked-warlock-of-the-west expression and smirks at Niyati: "Just don't go makin' enemies out of those who could be of better use bein' a friend… or at least a colleague, aye? Remember that these people what you'll end up fuckin' are th' people who are th' ones who can save your neck in Threadfall, after all." That last grain of wisdom imparted, he gestures at the class at large. "Dismissed!"

Niyati stands and dusts herself off. "Well then. I guess I'd better make sure I'm good enough to make the morning after worth it." Those raised eyebrows are surely a trade in for the smirk the words should come along with. "Not that I'd go the bucket route. Weavers get into as many awkward situations as Healers do. I doubt ending up in the sack with someone is going to top some of the things I've had to try to unsee." With that, she gestures toward Prymelia. "I think we could both use some tea after this…" It's got to be a code word for something.

By sheer force of will, and by jamming her hands in under her thighs, Prymelia prevents herself from affording K'ane a double helping of the middle fingered salute though he does earn himself a snort. "Tsk. And I here I thought I was being such a flirt." Yeah, she's just that full of shit. Or doing what she thinks is a /really good job at hiding her discomfort with the topic of flights as a whole. Niyati's comment of iced water and the illusion of being psychotic earns her an impish grin and she might have had a quip to hand back if not for the caution of yet further wisdom that she can't rightly argue. "Fine. Be nice. Only bite a little." What? Standing when the others do, there's a salute given and then with arms wrapped about her middle, she files out along with Niyati. "And biscuits." Is added because this is serious stuff.

"Don't get too drunk!" K'ane calls after the crew of them: "Drills tomorrow!" Only then does he lean back in his chair, look down at the puppets on his desk, and laugh. Oh, weyrlings. Just like kids… without any of the cuteness.