"Don't look now, but..." (Max)

[Requiem]

Dinner by himself tonight. Normally he had the kids for dinner, at least, but T'san had them right now and had seemed especially reluctant to give up Riaren. That was fine. An evening to himself (before his infirmary shift, anyway) would not kill the weyrlingmaster. It might actually be helpful. He loved his children, but M'ta really did start to feel his workload toward the end of the sevenday, and it was difficult not to lose patience with them. Yes. Helpful. He glanced around the dining hall, still trying to talk himself into believing he wanted to be left to his own devices for two whole candlemarks. The brownrider's mind was already cycling through names of people he might be able to bother so he didn't have to listen to his own head as he went through the motions of heaping food onto his plate.

It was only when he moved to go find himself a seat, balancing a tray while using the shard-blasted cane in his other hand, that he noticed the bronzerider and his weyrmate. He paused. M'ta's eyes narrowed on S'rei. Not only was the man huge, but he was a bronzerider, and Elysia certainly made it no secret how much she hated M'ta. Considering M'ta had imprisoned her for about a month at one point, he had no reason to believe that the councilmember didn't share in that resentment. Three strikes. The brownrider turned to give that table a wide berth and very nearly ran into...well, for lack of a better descriptor, a man who could rival a sharding runner. When he froze this time it was certainly the reaction of an animal finding itself suddenly nose to nose with a predator.

He pivoted away from the man he'd seen around but never seen so close, moving as quickly as his injured leg could carry him for the opposite side of the dining hall. Where all the giants weren't. A great start. Actually, you know what? His eyes flicked back toward them. With his luck the other two would come in, as well. Better to just...leave. He could bring the tray back later. So decided, M'ta made a beeline for the door and the corridor beyond, where he could spend the next couple of candlemarks curled up alone on the couch reading or something. Yeah.

[Aftershock]

Max sat at his table, watching the people of the Weyr eating their dinner while he ate his breakfast. He often people-watched during his breakfast, which was one of the few times during the day that the handler could interact with the majority of the Weyr due to his nocturnal schedule. He had been trying to expand his social horizons since the earthquake, with limited success. To be honest, Max was downright bored... after the excitement and madness of the earthquake, nothing much had really happened, and everything was settling into a big grey boring blah of daily grind.

Suddenly, someone interesting caught Max's eye. He saw a smaller man (well, larger than Max, but below-average when it came to "normal" sized men) trying to balance a tray of food while walking with a cane. He seemed to have a few issues, but appeared to be doing well enough... until he suddenly paused and glared at a somewhat larger man and a well-endowed woman sitting near the center of the room. The cane-equipped man turned in an apparent effort to avoid the pair, when he suddenly nearly ran straight into the giant wher Candidate Max had seen around... like it was difficult to miss someone that size. However, in his current target's case, he seemed almost frightened by the larger man, and quickly stumbled his way as far away from the two larger men as possible.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Max kept an eye on the man, who after achieving the opposite end of the dining hall from the two other men, seemed to come to a decision and left, not even eating anything. Mostly finished with his own meal, and not assigned to anything right away, Max moved through the crowd with his plate to drop it off at the kitchens, then exited the dining hall and scanned the hallways. Quickly finding the cane-using man once more, he began pursuing him, eventually catching up to him and saying, "Hello, there, I don't believe we've met. Maximillian, though I prefer Max myself. As I've always said, a man shouldn't have a name longer than the reach of his arms." Grinning at his own joke, Max put out a hand in a friendly manner, saying, "Nice to meet you... and you are?"

[Requiem]

Almost missed his crutches. Strange as that sounded...he could move a lot faster on them than on a leg that had been broken clean in half below the knee, pierced through skin, then had part of the muscle and meat removed due to infection. Oh, it would heal fine. Eventually. If he wasn't stupid. But, for now, walking on it was painstaking, and short of the inconvenience of having both hands occupied the crutches had gotten him around a lot better. He could practically run on them rather than this annoyingly slow half-limping gait. (Course if you never walked you'd never build the muscle back up and you'd never have the use of the leg again. He just wished things would heal faster rather than taking their sweet time about it.)

The incident in the dining hall was so commonplace for M'ta (he'd made something of a lifelong habit of avoiding men who provoked desires to draw blade and stab a myriad of holes into them, since he knew that behavior like that was the behavior of a lunatic, and even if he couldn't help his neuroticism he could at least not bother - or kill - anyone else with it) that it was already out of his mind. Nope, he'd already moved on to getting this food back to the weyr, and maybe inviting the girls over. If Jazheera wasn't out with that bronzerider. M'ta liked having Jazheera and Ruliana around. Two sisters. (Kinda, if you could consider a sort of half-sister-in-law who R'wign had never claimed as sister, but you would never be able to tell from M'ta's behavior that she didn't share his blood. Other than, you know, not looking at all like him.)

Voice. M'ta twitched, at first surprised that someone was at his elbow, and then surprised that he had been surprised at all. He blinked down at the tiny man. Yes, tiny man. Shorter even than M'ta's baby sister Jazzy. Then he glanced over on his other side to see just who this Maximillian, or 'Max', was addressing. The brownrider wasn't used to being singled out and approached by strangers. Strangers. Another oddity; the weyrlingmaster knew most of the people who lived at Selenitas, including drudges and candidates. Then he saw the knots of a wherhandler. That might explain why he didn't remember this man...still...M'ta's eyes narrowed a touch warily on the hand presented to him.

Well, he wasn't Bitran. That was a southern accent. Not that M'ta's lovely Bitran accent was obvious, either, but he couldn't produce a southern one. His words were too devoid of any particular flavor, actually, which was almost a telltale sign that M'ta hided his origins. Not that most people paid that close attention. His mouth twitched a little belatedly at the attempt at humor. It seemed rehearsed. Interesting. "Walking with both hands full," M'ta supplied, giving the extended hand a pointed look before he transfered the cane to his armpit and shook the man's hand anyway. His point had been made. No reason to be a further ass.

"I'm M'ta. Apparently my dragon agrees with your assessment of arm and name length," the brownrider commented dryly. For someone lacking in social graces, he was proving almost friendly. Almost. "Now care to tell me why you're following me? Or do you always strike up random conversations on your way about the halls?" No one said that a man had to be stupid just because he was paranoid; he could be neurotic and sharper than the average person.

[Aftershock]

Max took the proffered hand, his small fingers calloused and surprisingly strong for their size. "Nice to meet you, M'ta. I think I've heard your name around in regards to the newest weyrling class." Releasing the brownrider's hand, he continued to walk beside him, assisted in keeping up with the taller man by virtue of the broken leg, and thought about offering assistance with his tray before deciding against it due to the other man's obvious pride and independence.

Listening to M'ta's response, Max's smile widened, and he replied, "Your dragon is a clever creature, to be sure. As for why I'm following you, you are an observant man indeed to realize this was no random meeting." He tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point, then continued, "Ever since the earthquake, I've figured it was high time I try to become a more active part of the Weyr as a whole, instead of just associating with my fellow handlers. It hasn't been the easiest, as my bonded doesn't really enjoy being permanently blinded, and so often has me keeping his nocturnal schedule, but I've been making attempts at dinner, and it was this evening that I noticed your apparent dislike and avoidance of two of the Weyr's... let's say 'duckers of doorframes'."

Gesturing down at himself, Max then said, "If it's a personal problem, far be it from me to interject myself into your personal business. However, I have had dealings with those of the much taller persuasion myself, though those dealings usually involved me yelling when they nearly tread upon me, so I figured it would be a good an opportunity as any to strike up a conversation," he concluded, obviously waiting for a response from the limping brownrider.

[Requiem]

The man merely nodded in acknowledment of the recognition. Faranth knew it had little enough to do with him. Titles. Fun. When he was growing up in Bitra he never thought he'd have a title of any kind. Nor was it surprising that he'd be recognized by name. Behruth had a very peculiar sense of humor, giving him a name that sounded like a murmur. The only way you could yell it was by leaving off the first syllable. Mmtuh. So it wasn't likely to get mixed up with another name.

M'ta couldn't quite arrest the brow that lifted briefly into his hairline when Max began to answer his question. Was he trying to butter him up or something? The response was turning into quite a story, and by the brownrider's mild frown, it was clear that he was paying attention, at least. "So...basically you're saying that either the reason you were there in the dining hall at this time is you're attempting to expand your social circles into daylight, or you just happened to be there and thought I'd be a prime candidate because I'm short and that gives us something in common. Or both."

Stopping outside his door, the brownrider transferred his cane to his elbow again and unlocked the door a little awkwardly before swinging it open. "You've got a very glib tongue, Max. It's easy for me to lose myself in all that language. If you're curious as to why I reacted that way - which I suspect you are - I don't mind telling you that the woman was on my wing at one point before I got left behind at the old Selenitas. I also had her under lock and key for a good month when she wandered back that direction. S'rei probably shares in some of her...irritation at that circumstance."

He slipped inside his weyr, neither inviting Max to join him nor closing the door. That was as good as the wherhandler was going to get from M'ta. A sort of physical manifestation of the fact that the brownrider was still reserving judgment on this newest of acquaintances. (Of course he hadn't mentioned a thing about that Cainith candidate, but Max wasn't the only one who knew how to play with words when it suited him.)

[Aftershock]

Max nodded as M'ta spoke, but then a look of confusion crossed his face as the brownrider continued. "You certainly nailed the first point, sir, but the second... let me get this straight..." Pausing for effect, Max continued, "You're saying you think that you and I share a bond of shortness? M'ta, at a glance, you're nearly a full foot taller than I am. There is about as much difference between you and I as there is between yourself and... whoever that first fellow you avoided was. The one with the well-equipped woman." Seeming to be in a habit of speaking with his hands, Max punctuated his point by making expansive rounded gestures around his own chest. Hoping he made his point, he added with a look of obvious mock hurt, "If you're short, then where does that leave me?"

As the man reached his weyr, Max pulled up and listened as he continued to speak and explain the situation while opening his door. He followed a bit as M'ta slipped inside, and stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame so as to be able to continue the conversation without inviting himself inside. As M'ta finished, Max began, "So you had... let's call them 'unfortunate interactions'... with the well-front-padded woman, you say? And this S'rei, who I assume has some sort of relationship with this woman, you assume shares those ill feelings towards you? Have you ever asked him to find out?" Crossing one foot over the other as he leaned in the doorway, Max continued, "Even if your assumption is correct, what does that have to do with that other fellow? The true giant who shakes the ground when he walks? Seemed like you were nearly going to soil your britches when you nearly ran into him. Did he mistake you for food or something during a previous encounter?" Max concluded, smiling with a twinkle in his eye to show the jab wasn't meant to be mean-spirited.

[Requiem]

M'ta merely gave Max a rather tired look when the man decided to pick apart his comment. It really was hardly his fault when he was being nice and taking cues from Max's choice of words, in which he'd said that having experience with 'tall people' had prompted him to 'strike up a conversation.' The brownrider could of course have called him on either being nosey and/or offering help unsolicited, but instead he'd gone with this apparent comraderie Max was attempting to establish. And being lectured for it? Okay. The wherhandler received one word in response to his rather long protest. "Shorter." M'ta's being a foot taller than Max did not suddenly make him anything but short.

The weyrlingmaster eyed the small man lounging in his doorframe for a moment, before going over to his cupboard and producing two cups for juice. He'd gotten them both one-by-one to the table by the time Max's extended questioning ended. Sitting down, he gestured to the chair opposite him. "I don't find it terribly comfortable to talk to you from my doorway, wherhandler," he commented, with very little inflection. If Max was determined to be nosey about M'ta, he certainly wasn't going to get a thing out of the man where everyone in the hallway could listen in.

If he got much out of the man at all.

"I've never met the man before. Seen him. It's a bit surprising to be faced with someone so large unexpectedly." M'ta began to eat, his eyes moving back toward this strangely invasive man. Was watching someone avoiding giants really that intriguing? "As for S'rei...irregardless of his size or his relationship to Elysia, I find it best not to associate with the powerful. Not as likely to piss them off," he concluded dryly.

[Aftershock]

Nodding as M'ta gestured invitingly at the chair opposite him, Max moved into the weyr, closing the door behind him and hopping up into the chair before moving his feet behind the legs and then gripping the table to pull himself closer to the table. "I've found most chairs aren't designed for people of my efficient stature," he commented as the chair scraped across the floor, then grabbed the cup and took an experimental sip, nodding in appreciation.

Setting the cup back down, Max scratched his chin in thought for a moment, then responded, "I see your point. When I first spotted the man, I prayed to Faranth he did not approach my table, lest he not notice me and I end up nothing but a smear upon his buttocks." Grinning at his own joke, he then continued, "You, however, deal with weyrlings all day. I'm sure it takes quite a voice to deal with so many easily distracted young people... and dragons. Perhaps you could simply yell at the man to make him aware of your presence rather than inconvenience yourself avoiding him? He already gets to reach the high shelves without stretching, why automatically give him the added convenience of being able to drive you away from places, even if he might not even be aware of it?"

Picking his cup up again and taking a solid gulp from it, he gestured with the now half-empty cup, saying, "As for this S'rei fellow, I do see your point. The truly powerful can be truly dangerous if they're angered. However, they can also be very, very useful allies. Look at it this way... I apologize if the metaphor doesn't quite work for you, but mining metaphors are what I have, so bear with me." Placing his cup down again to free his hands for gesturing, he began, "Imagine you're in a mine, and you see a huge, gorgeous ruby embedded in the ceiling. Sure, you could leave it, avoid the danger of possibly collapsing the mine shaft on top of your head. But that ruby, it could help make life a lot easier for you." Max began to make gestures like swinging a small hammer as he continued, "But if you're very careful, and chip away at the rock around it, taking your time and watching carefully for any telltale cracks or faults, you can get that ruby free, and make your life a lot easier in the future."

Picking the cup up once more and taking another sip, Max settled back in his chair and said, "Now, don't get me wrong, I understand I just met you, effectively, and I don't know the whole story. I'm simply relating my thoughts on the situation, and hoping you can ferret at least a nugget of what I'm saying that applies to your situation and might help make your life better." Finishing his drink, Max put the cup down, concluding, "Because really, isn't people helping people what Weyrs are all about?"

[Requiem]

"You're one of those rose-tinted glasses people, aren't you?" M'ta commented rhetorically. His rather loquacious dinner companion seemed to think himself in possession of the world's wisdom, which he could just impart to whoever happened along his path. A bit full of himself. "In my admittedly limited experience, everyone has an angle." His eyes lingered on Max for an extra second, as if to say, Even you. He wasn't quite sure what it was yet. It could be something as simple as a need to feel useful, or a desire to attempt to make connections with people to alleviate loneliness or boredom. (Both were motivations people normally didn't associate with selfishness, but M'ta was of the persuasion that no one did anything unless they stood to gain something from it, whether it was something tangible or merely a good feeling when it was all said and done. He was very, very good at finding the selfishness behind everything.) Or it could be something more nefarious and underhanded. M'ta didn't know this wherhandler, and he didn't trust him any more than he trusted anyone he hadn't had the chance to observe for a time.

"I already have my ruby. Seems more prudent to just appreciate that one than try to 'mine' one that's likely to collapse the ceiling on top of my head, so to speak. E'rro's friendship is likely to serve me better than any truce with Elysia's weyrmate." M'ta didn't really care to speak of it more, so perhaps that would convince Max that the topic could be dropped. On a more pragmatic level, finding a replacement for M'ta and Behruth would be difficult. Weyrlingmasters were hard to come by and didn't often last long. It took a certain type of person to manage teenagers and dragons for over a turn only to turn around and do it again with another class, to put that much work in, to both care about your job and your charges while maintaining discipline...no, it wasn't easy at all. M'ta and Behruth were strangely suited to it. 'Ruth more than M'ta, but that was neither here nor there. He managed. S'rei likely wouldn't bother him as long as he was filling that role and not poking the bear so to speak. Despite Elysia's venom.

After eating some more of his dinner (and noting that Max was still occupying one of his chairs) M'ta took a sip of juice and spoke again. Maybe, if they conversed long enough, M'ta would figure out just what it was that was motivating this particular man. "I don't really yell. Throwing things is more effective." Actually, M'ta was very soft-spoken. Always had been. He could be talkative at times, his tone could and often did become hard, but he very rarely raised his voice. It wasn't in his nature to be so noisy. No, if he wanted the attention of weyrlings an eraser to the chest or side of the head was typically more than enough to get it. Right now his weyrlings were intimidated. By the time they realized that M'ta was more bark than bite (which was relative considering he definitely knew how to make a weyrling's life miserable regardless) usually some sort of loyalty had formed. Usually. Everyone was different, after all.

"I'm not afraid of large men or being squished or eaten," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Since you seem to be under that impression."

[Aftershock]

"I guess you could call me that. No reason to focus on the negative, simply noting it and doing your best to move past is a much happier way to live your life, I've found." Gesturing at M'ta with his now empty cup, he says, "You, friend, strike me as a glass-half-empty type. Or perhaps glass completely empty type," he added, grinning to help show the joke was not mean-spirited. "What, may I ask, is the advantage in focusing on negative things in your life?"

Max nodded as M'ta continued, responding, "Well, if you're satisfied with what you have, who am I to question it? I've always found having more friends was never a bad thing, but then again, I've also found I need to stand on a chair to reach the middle shelves, so not everyone is the same, obviously," he concluded, his continued grin displaying his overall jovial and joking attitude.

He sat in silence for a while as M'ta finished his dinner, and when M'ta again spoke, Max listened solemnly. "I see. Well, sir, I feel by your reactions that I have overstayed my welcome. It was a pleasure meeting you, and if you ever see me in the halls of the Weyr in the future, feel free to approach me if you wish a jovial discourse. I leave you to the remainder of your meal, and perhaps I shall speak to you again soon." Scooting the chair back by pressing against the table, Max hopped off his seat and gave a slight bow towards M'ta as he backed towards the doorway.

[Requiem]

"Focusing on them? That's something of an assumption, don't you think? I just don't pretend that the world is anything but what it is. If that happens to be negative, then that's just the nature of the beast." M'ta didn't see himself as a pessimist. So maybe his view of the world was colored by his upbringing. Maybe to a southerner like Max it would seem exceedingly pessimistic. The brownrider couldn't find it easy to trust, however, when his trust in the 'good' nature of people had been broken so many times. Individuals he could trust. People as a whole...no. Never.

It was oh so very tempting to just shrug and watch Max out the door. The little paranoid voice in the back of his mind still questioned why a random stranger would approach him the way this wherhandler had. What possible motivation could he have for it? If it was genuinely to be of some help to M'ta, he certainly didn't seem to care about getting the facts straight first, now did he? (Not that M'ta was really volunteering them. Still. He hadn't put much effort in at all, just assumed.)

Apparently curiosity won out with the brownrider, though. "I'm not really sure what you expect from me, wherhandler. You approach me without warning, offering loads of advice regarding what you perceive to be a problem without bothering to fully explore what that problem might be. It's not generally considered polite to give advice to strangers, you know. You don't know me. You haven't the slightest knowledge of anything about me apart from what you saw. And you presume to tell me how to live my life. Am I supposed to welcome that sort of thing from a stranger when even my friends would be more delicate about approaching the topic?"

His eyes fixed on Max. "What exactly are you after, Max?"

[Aftershock]

Pausing in his backing up, Max raised an eyebrow, and commented dryly, "It seems my impression that I caused offense was quite correct, after all." Leaning back upon the door, Max crossed his arms and fixed M'ta with a searching look for a moment, then responded, "What am I after, you ask? In such a manner to imply I have some sort of secret agenda in approaching you?" Max shook his head a bit sadly, and then said, "I'm sorry for whatever terrible things happened in your life to lead you to such a negative view on your fellow man, seeking out ulterior motives behind innocent attempts to get to know someone and maybe offer some advice from what you've learned in your own life that might apply to theirs, might make their life a little better."

Crossing one foot over the other casually, Max continued, "I have no ulterior motives. My attempt at conversation was simply to get to know you, and my advice, as stated, was simply an attempt to give a hand to my fellow Weyr member. It was your choice what advice to take and what to ignore, what applied to your life and what did not. I did not assume to tell you how to run your life, simply give suggestions to problems I saw you might have in an effort to be friendly." Shrugging, he added, "How was I to know you would take them in such a negative manner?"

Recrossing his arms, Max said, "All the people in this Weyr, we come from different places, different backgrounds. But we're all in this one place, and all have to work together to survive, and to thrive. You asked me why I approached you out of nowhere in an attempt to become a part of your life... I ask you, why not? We're physically in the same place, why shouldn't we try to try to find ourselves around the same place emotionally, as well? Even if we can't all get along, at least talking to others, finding out where they come from, trying to be friends, even if you don't succeed, is that such a horrible thing to attempt?"

Shrugging once more, Max uncrossed his legs and arms and turned to turn the handle and open the door to leave, concluding, "It seems to me you're not in a place to make new friends right now. If you wish to try in the future, you know where to find me. In the meantime, I wish you the best of luck in all you do, and all you attempt."

[Requiem]

"Shards, but don't you like the sound of your own voice?" M'ta grumbled, his patience all but evaporated. "Did it never occur to you that maybe there's a reason I don't want to discuss personal things with you? Or that just maybe we're not enough alike for you to just glance at me and have me figured out? You know what's the problem with you? You're so wrapped up in this determination to be friendly and liked and all that other bullshit that you don't pause to think about what the fuck you're saying. If you want a friendship, wherhandler, you're not going to get one from me treating me like a specimen for your little exercises in sociological curiosity. I'm a person with all the faults and twitches and sensitivities that go along with being human. Stop making a philosophical discussion out of how I see things and throwing random generic advice at me. You want a friendship? Treat me like a human being or get the fuck out."

[Aftershock]

Almost out the door, Max looked back at M'ta, pity and disappointment obvious in his eyes. He said nothing, instead shaking his head almost imperceptibly before fully leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

As he walked down the hallway to the wherhandler apartments to retrieve Maximisk and begin his evening's work, Max hoped the next person he tried to socialize with was less... difficult.

((End Thread))