There Once was a Man from Selenitas (H'nes)

[Lotty]

It was funny how every action the man made now had to have a justification for it, just incase the unthinkable happened and he was not only asked about it, but implemented as a part of some much greater scheme. At this very moment for instance, the bronzerider was considering all the words that would be said when asked why oh why he was in the records room. Why exactly anyone would care he wouldn't know since Selenitas records were never exactly a wealth of information, but still he resolved to explain that he was fetching a lost medical tome for Kalierre if anyone was so inclined to ask. Believable yes? Much more so than the truth that he was running down the list of transfers in the hopes of finding a name to add to his team of minions followers right? Right? Meh, probably not, and for that reason there was a little bit of jitter in his hands as he tried to replace a scroll to it's proper place in the pile.... not that he wasn't a clumsy mess anyway.

In a repeat of a gather from long ago, the rider managed to bump the pile he was straightening and knock the records from their precarious resting spot to new homes sprawled out all along the floor, immediately resulting in the sound of a breath struggling to fight it's way past some teeth. The stunted sounds broke free finally, culminating in a simple, "F-fuck...." Luckily, as far as Mi'rah knew there was nobody there to hear the curse he so rarely used - improper was what he told those sort of words were in his youth - nor anybody to see him awkwardly lower himself to hands and knees to pick up the rogue papers.

He was only beginning though, to roll up on scroll into his hands, when there was the distinct sound of footsteps headed his way... smoothly the gait flowed with all the purpose of someone who was supposed to be there, and in definite contrast the bronzerider began to jerk his hands out in brusque grasps for the documents as if he could somehow make the mess disappear before the feeling of anticipation crushed him. I have been asked where you are.... I told them you were around on the floor. Which is true... but I think they will figure out soon enough the exact room... Soon enough indeed... Mi'rah didn't have to have a specific name to know that his hunter was none other than....

"O-oh hi H'nes..."

He looked up at the man who just entered the room with all the innocence of a child who just stole from the cookie jar, and his arms wrapped themselves securely in a hug, holding close those rolled up hides that he had manage to finally wrangle.

[Ruby]

"Mi'rah." The name was paired with a little jerk of the head, as sort of nod between manly co-workers. Then the Weyrleader's eyebrows pulled together as he cleared a shelf, getting a full view of the disaster Mi'rah had caused... and the scrolls in his arms. "What happened here?" H'nes asked, looking around for an archivist or a drudge. "Leave that to the drudges, it's what they're for, after all." Sliding hands into his pockets, he tilted his head, eyes narrowing even further. "What were you looking for, anyway? I'm sure the archivists could fetch it for you in half the time it would take to look it up yourself."

Quarth, I need you, H'nes called, disturbing the Bronze's count of the current proportions of colors sunning on their ledges. These things were interesting, after all. Whatever for, Mine?[/i] Quarth asked, sounding bored already. That was standard, though; H'nes wasn't put off by it. I need Kierjaarth distracted. Mi'rah is up to something, and it's time I found out what. I half think that stutter is just to give himself time to confer with his dragon. Not a bad idea, Quarth allowed, then bespoke the other bronze again. Thank you, Kierjaarth. Mine found Yours... on the floor, just as you said. Do tell me, why do you allow him to spend so much time there? I hear being vertical is the preferred state for humans.[/i]

Gesturing for Mi'rah to get up and put down the scrolls he was fixing - no hand was offered, despite the fact that H'nes was fully aware of Mi'rah's bad leg - H'nes glanced back over his shoulder. "I wanted to speak with you, Mi'rah. Are you done here? If not, we can talk here just as well... take whatever you need, send an archivist after the rest. We can take one of the tables towards the back." Where everyone could see them (as if anyone was in the dim, dusty records room) but no one would be able to understand them if they murmured, which the Archivist expected them to do. "Or your office would also suffice."

[Lotty]

Mi'rah stalled for a moment, taking a second to understand H'nes' non verbals and recognizing in a detached way that the head nod was something that men used to acknowledge one another. Socially stunted as he was, he mimicked the motion to try the gesture on for size before formulating a reply for the Weyrleader, "I..." He never considered that fact that the mess itself would be questioned since he was after all one of the biggest klutzes in the weyr. In all of his turns he managed not to acquire an ounce of grace, and this was bound to never change, "I'm... I w-was being me?" He replied in a questioning tone, not sure how much explanation knocking over a bunch of scrolls required.

Easing himself up, and stubbornly determined to keep ahold of that which he dropped before, he swayed a bit awkwardly trying to reign his legs in much in the way a newborn foal discovers it's own. It was only then at his full height that the bronzerider cared to continue the conversation, a new confidence found in his voice now that he wasn't shrunken in the shadow of the other man, "It's... I'd prefer to not leave my mes-messes for others..." He wanted to say that it simply wasn't the polite thing to do but then that would suggest that the Weyrleader was lacking in such skills... which in turn would be in-polite in itself, "B-but you see. The archivists wouldn't be much help anyway, I came to fetch something that isn't supposed to be here. Kali...erre sent me to see if the apprentices left a record down here... "

He couldn't ask much more about that right? A man doing favors for a woman was suggestive of many things, the last of which was insurrection. Still, Mi'rah knew he was in for the long haul... he was under suspicion, which was clearly why H'nes wanted to talk to him; he'd never taken any interest in him before anyway.

Allow him? The bronze was roused from his current bout of people watching, his attention clearly piqued by Quarth's choice of words, Oh dear Quarth, I am hardly a creche worker, Mine has come a long way and is perfectly capable of doing what he pleases without me keeping tabs. The bronze thought a bit harder, making a show of it there on his ledge by even curing a talon to scratch the underside of his chin, But you have me feeling quite unfit as a dragon. Tell me is it common practice to see to it that Mine stands up straight? If so then he will have been failing for so many turns.

Taking a look around the archives, Mi'rah found the room to be as good as any, "W-we can speak here..." if only to save him the awkward walk to the office. Despite the comfort of 'home field advantage the man would prefer nobody be in his so called fortress of solitude and began angling towards a table that was suggested in the back.

[Ruby]

H'nes's eyebrows climbed slightly, his forehead settling in to familiar lines that said this wasn't a particularly infrequent gesture. He left Mi'rah's klutzyness undiscussed, however; it wasn't exactly polite conversation, and H'nes was nothing if not polite (usually). Once he'd straightened, H'nes said, "That is exceedingly kind of you, Mi'rah, but if you don't leave the archivists a mess every once in a while what will they fret over? They live for this sort of thing. Not to mention that you are a Bronzerider, and deserve a certain level of service from those around you." The head archivist shot H'nes a look, but the finger to his lips indicated that he was more worried about the noise level than anything H'nes was saying.

Regardless, the rest of what Mi'rah was saying intrigued the Weyrleader, and he didn't feel like hiding it. "A record for Kalierre, hmm? You can do better than that, Mi'rah. Kalierre has hordes of apprentices at her beck and call, and I am almost certain you have better things to do than play errand boy. If you don't, I can always arrange for you to organize the watch rotation." No one liked being on watch, so if that wasn't a thankless job, H'nes didn't know what was. Sweeping past the other Bronzerider, he pulled out a chair for Mi'rah - if he didn't, who knew how Mi'rah would manage to get his behind in a seat without falling over - before taking one for himself. Leaning forward on the table edge, he did his best to make himself look big. "I know you're up to something, Mi'rah. Let's try again. What were you looking for down here?"

Quarth stretched and yawned, the very picture of relaxation. Generally I see the human as a lesser representation of the dragon... if Yours requires constant watching, and insists on doing things that make other humans question his abilities, how does that reflect upon you? We all hope for humans that can care for themselves, but some are luckier than others.[/i] Quarth considered himself quite lucky indeed, but he wasn't about to say so. Instead, he stretched and dropped off his ledge, dipping by Kierjaarth's on his way up to the top of the cliff. Care to join me in more direct sunlight?[/i] he offered, as if he hadn't just backhandedly insulted the other bronze.