Fort Weyr - Shenanigan's Lounge
The natural walls of this cavern haven been completely covered and replaced by straight and sometimes curving walls of brickwork. There's method to the madness of covering stone with stone. It's as simple as the electric buzz in the room. New grade electric lights dot the fancy brick worked walls, with wires cleverly hidden behind, allowing more focus to be centered on the rest of the room rather than the numerous strings of wire needed to operate the lighting. Each bulb roosts in a bronzed metal flowering fixture, giving the room a rich atmosphere. Still, the walls are not the only place which has stone on stone appeal. The floor has been run smooth, the surface now slate rock, creating an imperial cast.
Beyond the actual foundations of the lounge, the luxury continues. High backed wooden chairs with padded white seats have been stationed all around the room. Between the individual chairs are benches fashioned out of the same rich wood with pillows made to flatter the cushions. There are low lying coffee tables or end tables near the individual chairs, while there's larger dinning room sized tables with chairs to match scattered as well, giving much variety to those who find themselves in the room. Decorative hangings and framed artwork has been neatly hung around the room, but to offset the meticulous method of the room, there's some pieces that give a sporty feeling to the room - such as a fishing rod or a snow shoe.
Of course, the final appeal of the room comes in the form of it's purpose; athletic competition. There are several games of darts lining the walls, various decks of dragon poker cards available, a large velvet lined pool table centered to one side of the lounge, a mat area surrounded by ropes, and an area that keeps track of all the runner races around the world via radio signal, giving constant updates on the status of the runners. Lastly, there's a bar here, small and built with brick as well. There's usually a bartender on duty willing to mix drinks during the evening hours.


What's better than spending a warm, rainy summer day than hanging out in the lounge? Nothing, of course, unless you have some good company to go with it! Right now, Rayathess is sitting on his own in one of the high backed and cushioned chairs by the low coffee tables. He's dressed in Harper blue, but the cut of his clothing is casual. Not working, but definitely standing out a bit all the same. Quietly he waits and in his lap is an unrolled sheet of hide which he is idly reading and then adding his own notes too. Or is he proof reading his own work? Hard to tell, but it's something to pass and kill the time with. Prior to his arrival, he had sent a letter to Ezra. It was short and to the point and (frustratingly) cryptic. Probably reading along the lines of inquiring on his well being and the progress with Stonehaven and then some ambitious mention of meeting up here in the Weyr. Not asking if he had time or wished too. Specifically mentioning a day and time and that he'd hope to see him there. Which usually means something is up. So is it good news or bad news? Rayathess never explained.

Ezra got the letter, got a bit baffled and a bit irritated by it, but he made sure to be at the weyr on the day and at the given time. The young heir walks into Shenanigan's, shaking rain off his coat and hanging it by the door, pushing fingers through his hair and scanning the room. His brother is not hard to spot in that Harper blue, and Ezra smiles warmly as he approaches. "Rayathess," he says, holding out a hand to his brother, intending to haul him to his feet and give him a proper, manly, back-slapping hug.

There was a method to Rayathess' madness, honest! Looking up when he hears his name being called, he grins broadly at the sight of his younger brother and promptly rolls the hide he was working on and tucks it away with the writing tool. "Ezra! You made it." he says, clasping his offered hand tightly and using it to both haul himself to his feet and then Ezra into that same manly, brotherly hug. Wow, someone's in a… good mood? "It's good to see you. Rain didn't make travel too hard?" It's all light banter and Rayathess will gesture for Ezra to sit, while also flagging one of the serving girls over. He'll flop back into his chair, all smiles and good humour and… totally not explaining anything still.

Ezra squeezes his brother tightly and lets him go, /eying/ him. Good mood is right, and sadly it's almost unnerving. "Naw, not bad at all, hitched a ride with a dragon." Because he can do that now. Yay, being heir. He does sit, leaning back a bit (Rayathess is flopping? What's going ON?!) and he orders himself a light ale and a sandwich.

It is sad that happiness in Rayathess is almost unnerving, but right now he's too focused to even consider how unusual his behaviour is. Or perhaps that's part of the game! "Oh, right. Forgot you could," he drawls as he stretches out his legs in front of him and slouches a bit in his chair. He's… relaxed too? Oh, now something really is up! As the server arrives to take Ezra's order, a petite and pretty little slip of a young woman, Rayathess will just be as silent as ever. Distracted too, because he is totally checking her out when she turns away, until he clears his throat and looks back to Ezra without a hint of shame. "So," Oh, this is it, right? Finally! "How've you been?" Damn it!

Forgot he could? Ezra stares at his brother, especially when Rayathess is checking her out. Ezra, admittedly, checks her out a bit too, but then he's looking back at his big brother. Finally! Damn it is right. "I'm good, Raya, what's going on? You're…happy." And that's confusing.

Rayathess totally saw and caught Ezra sneaking a look too and he snickers under his breath, a brow quirking up. Not bad, eh? He's in a good mood but not THAT good a mood (or drunk) and so he won't tease his brother or behave crudely. He waves a hand dismissively, "Nothing's going on." Liar. He smirks, "Figured we'd just catch up a bit first but if you're really that eager to have me get to the point, then fine." he says with a bit of a sigh. Can't ever have any fun, can he? Leaning back, he'll start to pull a knot out of his pocket and it's then that Ezra may notice that Rayathess never was wearing one. He took it off, just in case. He'll hold it up too, briefly, before pinning it where it should be on his shoulder. Not a huge difference and it's not a Journeyman knot but… it's a step closer and he's clearly proud of it. "I'm a Senior Apprentice now!" he grins and then seems a bit embarrassed to be holding so much pride in something some would consider so minor a thing. "Masters said I was ready and so… I was moved up. Whole new set of classes and studies and everything!"

Liar. Ezra's expression says it all as he watches his brother. "Get to the point," he urges, with a crooked grin. It has to be something good, right? Has to be. He does now notice the lack of a knot and at first his heart clenches, thinking it's Journeyman. For a brief moment Ezra's thoughts soar to 'Raya's going to live at Stonehaven!', only to drop down again. Senior Apprentice. Ah. Still, he grins. Not as wide as he would for Journeyman, but he grins. "That's wonderful! Congratulations, Raya! About time they recognized your talent and skill. Shards. Good for you!"

"I know it's not Journeyman, but it's a step closer, right? Must be doing something good, for them to allow me to progress!" Rayathess murmurs, giving Ezra a lingering look. Was he able to sense enough from his brother's reaction to assume that there is a faint tinge of disappointment there or did he share the same thoughts at one point? He's been promoted, but it still isn't Journeyman. He will still be at the Hall, for Faranth only knows how long this time. Or will it be shorter? Grinning back, he'll settle himself comfortably again. "Thanks, Ezra." he says and then he is looking up and past his brother. The server is back, with Ezra's ale and sandwich, which she sets on the table in front of him. Taking a small sidestep, she then serves Rayathess an… ale as well? Hmm. Sitting up, he will lean forwards to take the pint in hand but he also murmurs a thanks to her. Maybe it's the tone he uses or the way he smiles, but the server smiles back warmly. "Welcome. If y'need anything, you two just give a wave…" Then she's hurrying off again and Rayathess leans back again, crossing one leg over the other and taking a long, slow sip of his ale. Mmm. "To advancement in life and life's goals!" Rayathess belatedly toasts after he swallows, lifting his pint and tilting it towards Ezra.

Ezra nods, "Yes, it's a step closer for sure," he agrees quickly and easily. "Of course you're doing something good," he defends his brother stubbornly. "You're an amazing Harper. I don't know anyone who works as hard as you do." Except maybe himself, but he doesn't say that. The interaction between the waitress and his brother have him lifting his brows, and when she leaves he balances his sandwich plate on his thigh and sips his ale. "Something going on between you two?" he murmurs. "And you can drink now?" Not that Ezra ever let that stop him before. "To advancement in life and life's goals," he echoes with a wide grin, toasting.

Rayathess snorts, a bit embarrassed by Ezra's defensive response and compliments. "Guess I do take my Apprenticeship seriously, huh?" he muses and as he takes another sip of his ale, he coughs a little and shoots his brother a look. "Uh… no? Why'd you think that? Cause I was polite to her and happened to make her smile? That's just… bein' polite." And totally how he's landed in some awkward, hot water with Lana. You'd think he'd learn! Or maybe he's not at all aware that he's charming! He doesn't think so, in the slightest bit. Shrugging his shoulders, he casts a quick look around to be sure that one: the server isn't Right There and two: that everyone is minding their own business. "Though," Rayathess speaks low, leaning forwards a bit. "She's not bad on the eyes, eh?" Admit it, he looked too! As for the ale, Rayathess just smirks. "In moderation! So long as I don't go babbling Harper secrets in a drunken stupor or do equally as stupid behaviour, they say I can indulge a little."

Ezra nods, "You do," he agrees, watching his brother with a grin. "She was flirting with you, brother. Thought maybe…y'know. I don't know how long you were here waiting before I showed up." He darts a glance around then and grins, shaking his head. "No, she's not bad at /all/." And he'll probably try and catch glimpses of her as he can. "Excellent! Now I won't feel bad when I forget and give you ale." Because that happens All The Time.

Rayathess frowns. "She wasn't." he counters back, only to dart a look back towards the bar where the server is currently going about her work and not even so much as glancing their way. "… was she?" Wow, someone is oblivious. What's he do, walk around with blinders on? He then shoots Ezra a look and scoffs. "You implying I took that pretty thing somewhere private?" he drawls in a lowered tone and then smirks. "You wound me, brother, thinking I'll just take any girl. Or that I'm that quick." Deadpan. Yes, he just said that. Maybe he was drinking before Ezra got here? That might be closer to the truth or he's just in a rare, rare good mood. He sighs, "Besides. It's not like that ban has been lifted. I can have alcohol… but women… alas… I am still barred from." Now he can drink that sorrow away! Woe. Not that he's the player type. Chuckling for Ezra's comment, he takes another sip of his ale. "Why don't you go and woo her then, seeing as you've a better chance." he teases.

Ezra rolls his eyes. "Yes, Raya, she was." Then he grins, snickering and shrugging. "What's wrong with making out in a closet?" He's deadpan too, but his green eyes are gleaming. "Or…in the woods. Beside a stream. In the summertime. After a rain." That's…oddly specific, isn't it? As is the smirk, and the sip of ale, and the smug grin on his lips. "Aww. Well. Just don't get caught. I won't tell," he adds, grinning wolfishly and taking a bite of his sandwich. Then he snorts. "Me? No." Is he blushing? He's blushing.

Rayathess smirks all the more when Ezra rolls his eyes like that, still not believing him for a second that she was flirting with him. He was being nice, she was being nice (because it's her job) and he's nothing special. "… it's a closet, for one? And terribly cliche. If I'm going to fool around, I'll be at least respectful and find somewhere comfortable…" he grumbles. Somewhere — just like Ezra describes and with each detail, Rayathess' brows lift a little higher and higher. Uh… huh. Interesting. "So, brother? Who was she?" he asks in teasing but very curious way. Do tell! Rayathess snorts and toasts his glass again to Ezra's advice. "We'll see." he simply says with a faint grin of his own before his smile turns a little smug for how his brother blushes. "Why not? And you so do, Ezra." Ladies like a bit of rank, right?

Ezra smirks, darting his brother a /look/. "You know." He coughs, and then laughs. "Please, Raya, you're far more good looking than I am." But let's /ask/, shall we? Lifting a hand, he waves the waitress over. "This might be a little forward," uh-oh? "but my brother and I were discussing our various merits and faults. Tell me. Which of us would you rather go out with?" Harper blue apprentice? Or slightly damp black clothed heir? Or does she ask them more questions?

Rayathess blinks and then frowns, peering at his brother for a long moment. "I know… what?" he drawls, eyes narrowing a bit. Does he know? Who's playing the cryptic games now! But before he can pry into Ezra a little further, he's laughing and making a comment like that. "No, I'm not—" Wait, why is he calling the server over? "Ezra, what are you doing?" he hisses under his breath but the petite woman is making her way over and he can only sit and act casual. The server gives Ezra a funny look but then giggles, figuring this is just one of those 'games' and by far not the worst sort she's been called over for. "Hmm. Between you too…?" she says, feigning great thought and consideration as she glances between them. She asks no further questions because she's a bit on the air headed side and figures Ezra means merits and faults in physical traits. Because, like… who bothers with personality? When she isn't looking at him, Rayathess shoots Ezra a narrowed look, one which only turns smug (and a bit stung) when the server turns last to Ezra and winks at him. "Hafta say it's you. Close between ya though! You'd make it hard for a good girl to choose. Now if you boys will excuse me, I've got to be off…" Other patrons are calling for her and with another broad smile to both, she's off in a rush of skirts. Rayathess says nothing save to scoff softly and sip (a lot) of his ale.

Well. That didn't go as planned. Ezra's startled, and then turns to look at his brother. "Uh." Shit. "Well. She doesn't know anything." Hand wave. "You /are/ the better looking brother." He /IS/.

Rayathess snorts again and just rolls his eyes before levelling Ezra with another look. "Perhaps," he says in a tone that agrees… to disagree. He cannot and does not see how he is attractive, but it could be that he considers 'attractiveness' to be beyond physical looks. Sure, he looks good (decent), but his personality is — he has his ups and downs. Shrugging, he drains the last of his ale and sets it down again on the table. "Thanks anyways for trying." And rubbing salt in the wound. Not that that was his intention. Not quite forgetting their conversation prior to Ezra's calling the server, he peers at him again, glances around them and then promptly gets up out of his chair enough to drag it a bit closer to where Ezra sits. "So. You going to tell me or not who this girl was that you had a little roll in the grass with?" Do tell, do tell! Because Rayathess totally thinks it's a holder girl.

Ezra looks a bit downcast. He tried to be playful and failed, possibly ruining Raya's good mood. He's /kicking/ himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sipping at his ale, he struggles to get the conversation back on track. "We didn't roll in the grass," he hisses. "We didn't…you know." He has his /honor/. "You know who it is." And gives him another /pointed/ look. "It's a secret, brother, I can't say her name," he whispers

Rayathess's mood doesn't seem to be that deflated. He's still joking around a bit, especially when it comes to needling his brother for more information. If he was really, truly, put off by the backfired joke, he'd have got up and stalked out. Ezra should know his (weird) habits by now. Chuckling dryly, he just quirks a brow. "Means various things, silly. Wasn't implying you did… that. But you did something." And he's being an annoying and nosey bigger brother. It's a secret? "Oh ho. A holder's daughter then? You clever… wait. I know her?" He doesn't know any holder daughters on a personal level! Frowning, he begins to think and starts filtering through names. Inri? No. Lana… yeah, NO. Lyreh… absolutely not. Which leaves… oh. That'd explain things. "Heh. Really," he chuckles. Turncloak?" He's very careful to whisper the name to him, even if it's her old, old alias which few would probably remember now. Her little act of rebellion with the other children has all but fallen unforgotten now, as it arose in times where there were greater concerns. Likely the only one's who'd recognize it are all dragonrider's now.

Ezra shakes his head minutely. No, not a holder's daughter. Then…oh. Well that's one way to name her. Ezra had forgotten that rather unfortunate nickname of hers, and he winces at the memory. "Ah. Yeah," he murmurs, with a flush and a nod. "It was nice." /Real/ nice.

Oops? Rayathess doesn't seem to mind calling her that in the slightest bit, though he may not do so in front of Laurali unless to tease her (and then probably regret it). "That's… it? It was just nice?" he says, flopping back a bit in his chair and giving his brother a look. This is exhausting, trying to pick his mind! Maybe now he knows how others feel trying to chip away at his exterior masks. "Well… didn't think you'd take what I said literally. Or that she'd… huh. Really? Her. Turncloak? The same girl, right? Shy, meek and quiet, obedient…"

Ezra flushes, dropping his voice. "It was amazing, okay?" he hisses, glancing around. They are in /public/ after all. "It was so fun and just…it was /great/." He's getting smug again. "Well, I wasn't going to. Wasn't planning on it, but. She was out hiking, swimming, I happened to run into her…and we just spent the day together. I showed her how to ride a runner, we talked, and talked, and talked. And then just…things happened. We went with it. And it was wonderful." He snorts. "She's not all /that/ shy. She hides her true personality. Like some people I know." Smirk. "It's a /secret/ though, Raya. Completely. Don't even tell Lana."

Rayathess's grin is smug when Ezra cracks and spills everything. Well, not everything but enough that he won't pry further. He'll tilt his head a bit to listen, chuckling. "Thought so." he drawls, glancing around as well. Mostly out of habit, but honestly they're in public in a lounge in the heart of a Weyr. Raunchier things are probably said and… done, if there's a gold flight going on. Rayathess is being careful and quiet though and everyone else present is absorbed in their own conversations or drinks. "You… ran into her swimming? Oh, now that's just… every man's dream of a perfect setup." Rayathess teases in a low whisper before sobering and then reaches across to give him a good firm, brotherly nudge to the shoulder. Way to go! "I know how she truly is," he quips, and then blanches. "Not in, uh… the way you do, but I mean her personality." Cough. He smirks, "Haha. Alright, I get it. Still… glad it went so wonderfullly. Feel better now?" Rayathess frowns and sobers then, his tone firm and serious. "I know. And… why in Faranth's name would I tell Lana? That'd… no. This is between you and I. As brothers, alright?" This is what brothers do, isn't it? "Won't ever tell Turncloak either."

Ezra smirks, "I know, it was rather perfect. But it….that stuff didn't come until much later in the day." He rocks at the nudge, grinning and flushing. Smug, smug, smug. And /happy/. "I feel much better," he says with a sigh, slouching in his chair and resting his heels on the table. "Now…dunno. I've been close to someone. Don't feel like such a freak," he mutters. Then he rolls his head to the side and smiles. "As brothers."

Rayathess laughs softly for Ezra's description and the smugness, watching as he slouches in the chair with his heels up on the table. Settling more comfortably in his chair, he frowns at him. "You're not and never were." he mutters, in a tone that hints that that is just not open to debate or argument. "Either way. Happy for you, brother! … I probably shouldn't, but shells I could go for another ale." He's not even a week in to being permitted alcohol and he's already pushing the line! He'll flag the server over and order another, along with a platter of food.

Ezra has a sandwich which he's forgotten about, so he starts eating that with a big appetite. It's a warm and rainy summer's afternoon, and Rayathess is visiting from the Hall, and Ezra is home from Stonehaven, where he's been spending most of his time these days. Both brothers are seated in comfortable chairs by the klah tables, sipping ale and chatting. Glancing sidelong at his brother, Ezra's brows lift at that firm statement, and then he just shrugs. "Thanks," he adds with a smile. "Hey. Where /did/ you get your runner?" Random question?

Anrila was actually at the Weyr; she was at the weyr fussing over the runners and helping out in her unofficial stablehand position (one that may, one assumes, become a formal one at Stonehaven soon enough — that, or she'll finally apprentice), so it's only because she went to change her clothing that she's a bit late. Not so nice to come see one's brother for his promotion when you're covered in sticky hay and mud. Ezra's question is the perfect spot for her to come in on — rather than order anything, or sit and quietly absorb the conversation, she sits down and immediately provides an expectant look toward the answer. Yes, she'd like to know that too.

Rayathess stretches out where he sits, looking rather comfortable and relaxed for once. One could even dare say he looks happy, though still in a reserved manner. For now, anyways. Give the ale a moment to sink in and things may change. But for better or for worse? "My runner? It was just some— oh, Anrila! There you are!" he says, sitting up and then moving in to slip his arm around her shoulders in a gentle, but brotherly, hug. Squeeze! See? He's in a good mood! And probably totally trying to evade her expectant look and Ezra's question. Runners, what? "Was wondering if you got my letter or if Gren screwed up again." Rayathess' firelizard is known for being more of a pain in the ass than reliable. "How've you been?" he asks, as he lets her go to reclaim his chair.

It's a warm, rainy summer's afternoon, and Shenanigan's is doing a fine business. Not too crowded, but not empty either. The Stonehavens are sitting on comfortable chairs near the klah tables, talking, and Ezra takes another bite of his sandwich. He sits up when Anrila arrives, grinning. "Anrila! Hey!" When Rayathess is done with the hugging, Ezra will offer their little sister one too. "Rayathess got promoted. Senior Apprentice!"

The rain tends to keep people inside. People inside tend to look for things to do, and one of the things they tend to do is… drink! So, there's a few things running a bit low, and Borodin's coming up from the bit of the tunnels where the brewing happens with a handcart of those things - one big barrel, and a box on top of it filled with assorted bottles.

Not everybody plans on celebrating the return of spring, or promotions, or… whatever. Some people still have work to do! Which is probably why Zhirayr is carrying a giant folder full of assorted bits and bobs of paperwork, as he ambles into Shenanigans, and studiously ignores his burden in favor of trying to get a drink and mostly getting in the way of people who are actually working. "Sorry," he mutters, bumping into a few chairs here and there, in a complete reversal of his usual faintly-ridiculous gracefulness.

All the hugs! There is no argument from normally stoic Anrila, who is smiles and physical affection around her actual family with no awkwardness. She doesn't actually say 'I heard,' but it's there in the smile. What she does do is tease, "Gren is a glutton," because of course it's not her fault when she overfeeds her brother's firelizard, it's his fault, before, "I'm fine. Mucking stalls, you know — where did you get your runner, then?" she repeats, still looking eager, and in typical Anrila fashion, oblivious of others around her.

"Hey, aren't I supposed to give away the good news?" Rayathess smirks towards Ezra, but his annoyed tone is done in all good fun and joking about. Since, as it turns out, Anrila already knew. "He IS a glutton and some people are enabling that habit. If he gets any more plump, I'll be surprised if the shardin' lizard will be able to fly." Despite the grumbling, there is an underlying tone of fondness for the brown. Not that Rayathess would outwardly show it! Nope. "Huh, so stablehand stuff then?" he quips to Anrila, only to sigh when he's harassed again for answers. "Just a small cothold outside of Breakwater Hold, alright? Why're you too so curious now about him? Not thinking of more runners for your herds, are you Ezra?" Zhirayr bumping into those chairs earns a glance from Rayathess and, perhaps, a faint snicker or at the least, an amused smirk. Borodin he has not quite spotted yet, though a few of the other patrons may be giving a very curious look to whatever alcoholic goodies are on that cart. Something new or the usual fare?

Yay for drinking! Ezra lifts his mug of ale to his lips once he's finished off his sandwich, and eyes Borodin's cart as well. Oooooh. What's /that/. He wants to know. Which causes him to notice Zhirayr's stumbling, the heir wincing in sympathy. "Maybe set the paperwork down first?" he offers. Just an idea. "Maybe?" he replies to Raya's question. "If I get a mare from D'ani's mare, might want to breed her to your stud at some point. Have some nicer stock for Stonehaven." Not the scrubby beasts he has now. Good for working, bad for showmanship.
"Uh," Borodin says when Zhirayr crosses in front of him. He's got a handcart of booze here! …and the other's got a stack of paperwork. In a fight of burdens… they both lose, so it's probably for the best that Borodin stops and lets Zhirayr go by before continuing along to the bar. Stare all you want, patrons, but you can't have it until it's properly at the bar, so you'd better move out of the way. Fortunately, they do, and Borodin sighs in relief at having arrived. He starts unpacking the box - which looks to be mostly the usual stuff, various things that turn by barkeep alchemy into shots and mixed drinks.

"Sorry, sorry," Zhirayr tells the Stonehaven trio absently, patting at the side of someone-or-other's shoulder, before pushing off along the rest of the way to the bar, now that Borodin has Blazed the Way(tm). "Do you need a hand with that? Or a spill, somewhere, that I can set this pile in?"

"Mm, mostly —" Anrila starts, then stops talking to listen to the discussion of breeding, and watch Zhirayr and Borodin. "He's the one I crashed into back at that gather," she whispers, though evidently she's no longer afraid of the headman. He managed to miss Anrila, but the person near her he bumped gives him a weird eyebrow-raise and manages to not actually say anything rude. Respect to position, probably. "Seems like," the girl elaborates, "maybe it's a bad day for some people." Cart of booze, stack of paperwork, crowd. "Couldn't Inri get you runners?"

"So long as the alcohol isn't knocked over," Rayathess remarks with faint humour, eyes still following Zhirayr's trek past and towards the bar and spying Borodin with the handcart in the process. Cue another one interested, though his attention is being rapidly turned away when Anrila whispers. "At the racing Gather?" he says in a lowered voice, recalling then the events that unfolded. A lot happened that day and he gives his sister a reassuring smile. "Everything was sorted out though, wasn't it?" Glancing back to Ezra, he'll shrug his shoulders. "I'd not mind it if you wanted to use him as stud for your mares. Though… when's that foal due, anyhow?" Blinking, Anrila's addition has him both surprised and a bit baffled. "Inri breeds runners too?" Would he have known this about the junior goldrider?

Ezra drains his ale and gets to his feet. "Want anything else?" he asks his siblings, tipping his head towards the bar. "Inri? Why would Inri get me runners?" he asks, confused at Anrila's question. Then he's walking to the bar, smiling at Zhirayr and Borodin, leaning against the bar to place his order. Leaning, he turns back to his siblings. "Soon. Don't even know if it'll be female, but. That's kind of what I'm hoping for." Then he can have babies.

"Uh, well, I don't… uh… need a spill…" Borodin says with a look to those papers of Zhirayr's. "I mean, that's kind of… uhm. We kind of avoid those? Generally?" That's why the bar has cleaning rags, which are probably better suited to the purpose than paperwork. Though using the paperwork may be more cathartic. "You can… uhm." He glances around in the box, lifts one of the bottles. "There's some blueberry piquette? It's cheap." Which isn't usually something they use as a selling point, but if it's for the consumption of paperwork instead of people… yeah, someone will be with Ezra in a moment. There's bartenders on duty, or there's Borodin once he finishes unloading and… uh… helping Zhirayr.

Or, at least, "helping" Zhirayr, which is more-or-less what he meant to say anyway, one would assume. Yes. "Does it stain very badly?" Zhirayr asks, way to intently for someone carrying about a load of very expensive and important documentation.

"Oh, I thought maybe her sister — she rides, I think? That's all, she might have connections if he came from the Breakwater area," says Anrila, who really would not know either way any more than that; Inri is Ezra's friend. Like D'ani is Ezra's friend. They're people in her periphery. (Does she really have any friends?) "Oh — yes, also, I think he forgave me; got distracted by the Weyrwoman's dress." She is inching closer to try to catch all of Borodin and Zhirayr's conversation: what's he trying to get rid of?

Rayathess mulls over Ezra's offer for half a second, since it seems like his second ale has been lost in the chaos and so was his order of food. "See if they have some whiskey?" he asks and then adds after brief deliberation. "And a platter of something light to eat… snack foods. Shells, maybe I should just get up and see. Where'd that server girl go, anyhow?" Slowly pushing to his feet, he'll offer Anrila his hand when she too seems to be edging forwards — though for entirely different reasons. "Glad he forgave you, since it was an accident. Why were you distracted?" Did it really take him THIS long to catch up on things? Yes. Yes, it did. His studies at Harper Hall eat up so much of his time of late. "Come with?" Rayathess asks her, motioning with a tip of his head to the bar. "I'll get you something to eat if you're hungry. And to drink too. You're old enough now, right?" That last may be a bit of a tease to her. "If it's a colt, you can always trade him for a filly?" Rayathess remarks to Ezra, his eyes flitting briefly to Zhirayr's and Borodin's exchange. He can't hear all of what's being discussed, only that the Headman has paperwork (hmm) and Borodin is the current go-to person for deliveries in everything alcoholic.

Ezra looks quite curiously at the paperwork. "What's so bad that it's worth wasting booze to stain it? Wouldn't tossing it into the fire be easier? And cheaper." He's fine with waiting, in no rush. Glancing back to his siblings, he nods. "Oh, right. I don't think she has any of those connections though. Plus, you know the runners I have are perfect right now." He just wants something flashy for riding into Fort Hold. Something befitting a cotholder. "I'm not trading my turnday runner," he says firmly to Rayathess, shocked he'd even suggest such a thing. No, he gets what he gets from that.

"Uh." Borodin looks back to the bottle. These are not the questions he's used to being asked! The proof, the palate, those he knows. The staining characteristics? Not his specialty, but he tries. "It's sort of a deep blue-purple." He gives the bottle a tilt to demonstrate. "And, uh… thick. So it would… uh… it would be blotchy." He eyes the paperwork again. "…probably." There's a flick of his eyes to Ezra, waiting at the bar, and Anrila and Rayathess coming closer, but then they return to his current… "customer". "Uh, so…" He trails off to look at Ezra. Burn it with fire! "…uh." Wait, he's supposed to sell his wares. "Alcohol burns?"

"Depending on how much of it you have, sure," Zhirayr agrees easily, reaching out a thoughtful finger to poke at the bottle. Nudge. "I don't actually want to catch this on fire, though. It would be easy enough to burn it on my own, without involving witn— er, accelerants. I'm more in the market for plausible deniability."

"Wine got spilled on it somehow," Anrila is practically whispering, because while Nyalle and gathers not being friends may be well known at this point, she's gossiping about someone she distantly sort of admires and that's rude isn't it? "and he — Zhirayr, I think? — poured more wine on it and horrified everyone up until the point it turned out that took care of the stain." All of that was said in one breath, because that's about how much Anrila is going to say out loud ever, and it's best to get it done quickly. She will keep being distracted by dreams of leggy little Stonehaven foals, and trailing after Rayathess to let him get her a drink; laughing without comment at any tease about her age.

Rayathess clears his throat a bit as he comes to stand by the bar, leaning against it as he may very well offer the nearest vacant seat to Anrila for her to sit on if she so chooses. "What's this about wasting booze and staining paperwork and… fire? Really." There's a look to Ezra for that suggestion, but his eyes flick to settle on Borodin next and longest on Zhirayr. No setting things on fire! He then shrugs his shoulders and lifts his hands in a mocking, defensive way. "What? It was just a suggestion!" So he may have forgot that the runner was a gift… even if unborn. He's used to Anrila's habits by now and her rush of explanation is heard and understood and met with a sympathetic smile and curious look. Hey, it's not gossip if it was technically true? And it's not like she's saying it loud enough for all to hear. "I see why it caused all that commotion then," he murmurs and then waits his turn to gain the bartenders attention.

Ezra ahhs, nodding his head in understanding as he tries to get a glimpse at what those documents actually /are/. "So, Anrila, are you going to apprentice? Or are you going to come with me this winter?" Might not be the best place (or time) for such an important question, but…he asks it anyway as the bartender (one of them anyway) brings him an ale, and delivers Rayathess' whiskey, waiting for Anrila's order before he moves to fill it. "Borodin," the young heir says then, turning to smile. "Are you going to compete in the Weyr Games? I heard a rumor Ista was having an ale brewing contest…Don't know if it's true, but if it is, you should enter something."

So, there's past wine spilled on past dresses, and future booze to be spilled on present paperwork? Borodin looks back and forth between Rayathess and Zhirayr. "It's his paperwork?" And the vintner has no idea how important it is! But… blame Zhirayr, not him. Or, uh, claim it was an accident, that works too. "I can give you something in a flared glass? So it tips over more easily?" Bartending is a service industry, all about helping the customer. Some customers are just more straightforward than others, and so it's with some gratitude that Borodin looks back to Ezra… only to hesitate. "Uhm. I don't know. …are they?"

"Sounds perfect," Zhirayr chirps, altogether too cheerfully, and starts helpfully spreading his papers all over the bar. Face-down, so nobody can immediately tell what any of them are, of course.

Anrila is counting on Ezra to get the glimpsing done. She's still not a gossip, she's just — you know. Curious. When the headwoman's right hand is trying to destroy something both surreptitiously and kind of obviously at the same time. "Me? I — the best thing would be to do both," she says quietly, after ordering some kind of orange alcoholic thing that she likely picked up from Ezra due to it being something Inyri used to make. "For me. If there were a Journeyman who wanted … I have yet to decide, just in case." In case everything magically works out just so for her.

Rayathess will nod his thanks to the bartender when his whiskey is served and he'll take a small pull of it, nursing this drink far slower than his ale. "It couldn't hurt to try, Anrila? And if Ezra finds a Journeyman to post to Stonehaven, you could always put your request in to Apprentice under them." Done and done! It can be that simple, right? "Right," he says to Borodin, quirking a brow and looking confused. "But the question remains. Why are we looking to destroy or damage it?" he asks again, eyes flicking to Zhirayr. When those papers are spread out, maybe it's the Harper (in training!) in him or just too much curiosity (and a bit of liquid courage) but Rayathess will suddenly edge forwards and a hand will dart out in hopes of snaring and grabbing some of those papers. One would suffice, several would be excellent, but he just can't stand there and watch incase it really IS something important. Though on the other hand, his actions can be viewed as rude and improper but the deed is done. IF he's successful and Zhirayr doesn't stop him, that is!

Ezra sips his ale and places his elbow ever so carefully next to those documents. So if Zhirayr wanted to place his soon-to-be-arriving glass next to his elbow…well. Who knows what might happen. "I can put in a request for a Journeyman. We'll need one anyway, but…I was wondering if I should put in for a Jman and an apprentice, or just a Jman…but I don't think Beastcrafters can train on location, can they? Don't you have to go to the hall until you're at least Senior Apprentice?" He's suddenly not so sure. The orange thing brings a smile to his lips, but he sips his ale again. Green eyes shift to Borodin and he shrugs. "I don't know for sure, I just heard rumors about it and thought of you. Might be worth checking into? Bet you'd do well." Then…Rayathess is stealing? Ezra looks surprised, and then he laughs.

"Uh," Borodin says as he watches Zhirayr arrange his papers, "Right." So he goes and gets a flared glass, and he pours a generous measure of dark indigo drink into it. It smells like blueberry syrup with booze - simple, uncomplicated, about as alcoholic as wine but without any of the subtle notes. "I'll look into it," he tells Ezra while he pours. Then, with drink in hand, Borodin faces Zhirayr and says, "That'll be a thirty-second mark." Saboteurs are not allowed to open tabs. Whether they're allowed to conduct their sabotage in peace, well, Rayathess has something to say about that. Makes sense, he's a harper. They care about documents and stuff.

Strangely enough, Shenanigans has darts. Stranger still, that paper that Rayathess is snatching at has just been darted to the table, about four inches from its edge — not impossible to get it loose, but the quickest way will result in a great big slashy tear up to the corner. Zhirayr only grabbed a single dart (so far), though — he's busy meekly pulling two such marks out of his pocket, displaying them briefly before dropping them into Borodin's hand. "When you get a chance," he asks, "a second glass, so I can actually find out what it tastes like, if you'd be so kind?" It isn't really a question, of course — and yet, at the same time, it sort of is.

"Oh, I don't — to be honest I'm not sure," Anrila admits in turn to Ezra's question, glancing at Rayathess like he should definitely know the answer. Is she paying attention to the group sabotage attempt here? Of course. Is she pretending to ignore it? Just as obviously. "I never thought to ask! I think the Weyr had apprentices, at one point, so I may have assumed — you could ask." Yes. Ezra could ask. Or Rayathess might already know. Anrila is not stepping up to be the one to ask. She is also now closely watching Ezra's elbow, just in case, you know. it might do something.

"In special cases, yes they can train on location. Not sure what those specifics are for Beastcraft, but that's how I often end up here, in the Weyr. Usually when a Journeyman or another, posted or on some specific duty, accepts an Apprentice or two to tag along. Short term, long term." Rayathess shrugs his shoulders then. Apparently he knows some things and he'll glance back behind his shoulder to Anrila, likely for her reassurance. "Better if you ask or you and Ezra together. Can't hurt!" he repeats again. Worst answer will be 'no' but perhaps they'll get some helpful insight to alternatives since… Beastcraft Hall is all the way in Keroon. Rayathess isn't stealing! He's… protecting potentially sensitive documents! Harpers do care about it. They're Pern's… hoarders of everything information-based? On a historical level. Doubtful the documents Zhirayr is trying to destroy are THAT valuable but… Rayathess WANTS to know and rather than ask like most sensible folk do, he's trying the hard way. Which almost results in the tearing of said sheet he does grab, followed with a hissed swearing. Fingers let go, only to attempt to nab papers beside it. Can't all be darted down, right?

Ezra grins at Borodin, pleased at the possibility of competition. He jumps a bit at the sound of the dart thunking into the bar, but then turns back to Rayathess and Anrila. "We'll ask."

Borodin's hand curls around the money, and he nods. "Yessir," he informs Zhirayr as he sets the glass down on the bar - safely away from the documents for now, but that's just because there are limits to how complicit Borodin is willing to be in this sabotage. Providing stain-causing drinks? Yes, he'll do that. Putting them on possibly-crucial documents? Nooo, that'll be up to someone else. He'll just set this one on the bar and turn away, taking the bottle with him as he sidles along the bar to get another glass. He sees nothing. Not Rayathess. Not Zhirayr. Nothing.

"You talk a lot for someone snatching at other people's soon-to-be-destroyed documents," Zhirayr points out mildly, pointing a glass full of blueberry cordial all up in Rayathess's face. "If you're that desperate to know what they are, you could ask me, you know. Or you could wait until they're blue." Slosh, went his drink. Up to the rim, up over the rim, up up up — no, not quiet enough for a splash. Not yet.
So long as it's a we, Anrila settles into smiling at Ezra — and then whirling around and nearly dropping her own drink as more darts hit the bar. At least her spinning around hasn't overturned anyone else's! Not onto any documents or otherwise. "I'd like to know," Anrila suddenly speaks up and probably shocks everyone, "why you're trying to get rid of 'em." And now she might not talk again for a week, because that was a lot louder than her normal practically-a-whisper.

Rayathess would likely have supported Anrila's outspoken (for her) remark, but he's currently distracted by a glass full of blueberry cordial being shoved in his face. His first reaction is to recoil, jerking his head back with a startled grunt not so much for the smell but for the fact that it's suddenly THERE and sloshing towards him. Next impulse to fight? Smacking it out of Zhirayr's hand, which would instantly defeat the purpose of what he was aiming to do. What does happen is Rayathess's arm does lift but he halts the motion just in time and only his fingers brush the cuff or sleeve of whatever the man is wearing. "Both my sister and I are wondering why you're so intent on destroying them and what they are." he states a bit dryly, hand and arm withdrawing. "Also, why you're so intent on destroying them now and here." Hand wave to the lounge in general, which… may draw more eyes on them. Rayathess has backed down for now, though he gives Zhirayr the strangest of looks under a heavily frowned brow. This Harper (even if just newly Sr. Apprentice!), disapproves.

Ezra watches things unfold, and the young heir just laughs, taking a step away from Zhirayr. He suddenly doesn't like the idea of staining his outfit. "I'm curious too, but…Figured it wasn't my business."

…except Borodin can't help but steal the occasional glance back toward Zhirayr and the Stonehaven group, because while he's pretty sure he's better off ignoring it, he too is curious. But no! He has a glass to - slowly - pour. One for drinking instead of fiber arts.

"Because," Zhirayr says oh-so-precisely (not to say persnicketily — because that isn't, after all, a word), "the Headwoman insists that they're valuable, but they're the triplicate copies of completely worthless records. So. If they're destroyed by 'accident'…" He trails off, giving Rayathess (and by extension, well, everyone else) a pointed look. Fill in the blanks, Mister Senior Harper Apprentice! Please do!

Anrila is about to say something. Anrila — does not actually say anything, even if she has a guess, because she's definitively talked too much; instead, she sips her drink and just smiles, an edge of wickedness to her softness. It's great entertainment.

"Destroyed by "accident"… in front of a room full of witnesses?" Rayathess points out, literally, with one hand first to Zhirayr and then he smirks. "Not yours to say what gets destroyed or not, if the Headwoman says they're to be kept and of their value… sir." The last is tacked on almost as an afterthought, perhaps now that the Sr. Apprentice realizes he may be, in fact, outranked. Oops? Okay, so they learned they're (worthless) records! Rayathess exhales heavily, a touch frustrated and maybe flustered too. He's… not crazy for stepping in, is he? His eyes dart first to Ezra, then Anrila (and there's a hint of a grin for her smile) and yes, even Borodin! He sees him lingering there. "What are they records of? Shipments? Trade details? Stores?" Maybe once he knows he'll back off completely.

Ezra sips his ale and watches, glancing between Rayathess and Zhirayr. "Why not just throw darts at them? Get out your frustrations that way?"
Anrila breaks pose order to bark out a single louder laugh before covering her mouth, shyness returning from the rude interruption, and then taking another long sip of drink.

Still not Borodin's problem. This is already more information than he wanted to hear, because he's all complicit in the sabotage of allegedly-important weyr records. But, hey, now that he is, he might as well return to Zhirayr with that second glass of piquette. Which he sets down on the opposite side of the papers. Get them from both sides! "Here you are."

Hey, they're also allegedly-unimportant! Doesn't that count for anything around here? To Ezra: "Because the entire bulk of my frustration stems from the attempts you've got going, here, to sabotage my efforts. So I don't really want to throw darts at them. Besides, all that would do is poke a lot of holes in them, anyway." Shrug. He takes a sip of the glass he's already holding, and then makes a face. It's … not a super-pleased face, to say the least. On the other hand, he doesn't spit out the piquette in anyone's faces, or on the papers. Can't really call that a loss or a win. (He ignores Rayathess's pointed question, at least for the moment. So what if there are witnesses?)

"Do you actually need three copies," Anrila whispers to Rayathess, soft enough Ezra can still hear her but — that's it.

Rayathess just gives Ezra a level look and a low spoken, muttered: "You're not helping!" hissed in his direction. Thanks for the support, brother? A look that implies the same 'not helping' statement is shot to Borodin too. Really? To Anrila, he ducks his head a bit once he's given her a surprised look for her sudden laugh to whisper back. "In some cases, yes. Depends on the documents." he explains, which maybe explains why he's got his hackles up over the idea of destroyed records. Copies or not! Yet, Rayathess has to remind himself this is the Weyr, not the Hall and… he's pretty much outranked by everyone in their little group save for Anrila. He can protest and grumble all he wants, but if Zhirayr is determined, there's little he can do. "Fine." Rayathess grumps. "Have it your way." Won't be his problem if the Headwoman hears of it! Which she might. Witnesses, after all. He's… going to slink to the side now and reclaim his whiskey.

Ezra shrugs, "Who cares?" he replies, sipping his ale again. Sorry, Rayathess. No, he isn't helping. "Enjoy," he says to Zhirayr with a little wave, moving off after the sulking Rayathess. "Can't save 'em all, brother." Anrila's laugh has him grinning though. It's a good sound.

Borodin is-so helping! He's helping Zhirayr. He's also performing his duties, by arranging for people to have drinks they… uh… okay, maybe not like. Zhirayr doesn't seem fond of the taste of this one. Then again, it's not like he asked about the taste prior to ordering it! If he had, Borodin could have arranged for something more suited to grace the palate instead of being used flagrant disregard of proper archival. Missed opportunities! …anyway, Borodin's just going to keep unpacking that handcart.

And Zhirayr, in a hurry, now that the entire bar's collective gaze isn't entirely fixed on him (some people, after all, are keeping their sharp eyes locked on Borodin, for … reasons), neatly knocks over both glasses onto the spread-out papers, scoops them into a blueberry-stinking, sopping mess, and shoves them back into the folder, which he has apparently decided also to write off as a loss. "Thanks for the mess," he tells Borodin, and flips another thirty-second mark at his … back … side … as a tip, before eeling his way out the door before anyone can try to find out just which triplicate records they are. Were. Used to be.

Rayathess snorts to Ezra's comment, giving Anrila a brief and belated smile for her previous laughter. It IS a good sound! Then he's back to sulking into his whiskey and knocking the rest of it back. That'll be the last of the drinks for him for this day! He can only watch as Zhirayr goes about destroying all those records "accidentally" and narrow his eyes in a slight glare to follow the Assistant Steward out. "I'd have been flayed seven ways to Turnover and either demoted or kicked out on top of it for such… destruction! Yet he does it like it isn't a shardin' waste!" he continues to grumble, irked and frustrated. Could be he's baffled too, as to why it really mattered that there were three copies or… just baffled about Zhirayr in general. Rayathess sighs, "Eh, why do I care? Not any of my business anyways."

Ezra shakes his head as he sprawls into a chair. "Nope, not your business. Let it go, he did what he did and maybe he /will/ be flayed seven ways to Turnover." What a fun phrase.

…people are throwing things at Borodin. It's okay, he's used to it. But hey! That projectile sounds like a mark as it hits the ground. Bonus! He bends down and scoops it up, then turns back just in time to see Zhirayr departing with his documents and the bar… being blue. Yay. Borodin sighs, and reaches for one of those absorbent rags kept behind the bar for spills… accidental or otherwise… and starts wiping up the piquette before it stains anything… else. "Sometimes people make poor decisions when alcohol's involved." Whether or not they actually drank that alcohol.

Is it a fun phrase? Rayathess probably just cobbled that together in a moment of piqued anger and continued frustration over the whole situation. Maybe he feels a bit of the fool too, for trying to step in. He'll get over it… eventually. Zhirayr however? Is not in the Harper's 'good' books. Which — could be a very bad thing. "Doubt it. But I'll let it go, fine…" Another hand wave and then he's sinking onto one of the barstools, using the edge of it to prop his back against. "Yeah, but that's usually only if they consume the alcohol!" Rayathess snips over to Borodin, though the heat in his voice is meant for the situation and not necessarily him. "Shardin' waste." What was that about letting it go? He mutters something under his breath (probably more swearing) and then smirks. "So what was this about the Istan Games?" Belated… change of topics?
Ezra chuckles, feet up on the table as he grins and takes another slow sip of his ale. "Yeah, over in Ista." Uh. Duh? "I was thinking of entering a few competitions, but not sure which ones yet. Have you gone?" That's for both Rayathess and Borodin, if the latter isn't busy.

Borodin smiles somewhat in the face of Rayathess's heated words. "Might be. Then again, might just be that alcohol's an easy excuse for the bad decisions they already make." Wipe, wipe, and there. Now the bar's no worse than it was before, and the topic… seems to be changing. "Haven't been," he says of the games. "Hear they've been going well, though."

Rayathess can't really argue with the logic in that statement from Borodin and so only shrugs his shoulders. Fair enough? Turning his head, he just stares at his brother. "Have I gone…? Am I not a Harper?" he drawls and at first his face is deadpan and straight only to slip as he begins to chuckle. "I went on the night of the Opening Ceremonies. Masterharper Moyrel needed us in force and so even some of us Apprentices got selected to go. Good experience." And an event requiring entertainment and far surpassing what Istan Harpers alone could handle! That or he's sent to… watch (re: spy) and observe. "There's a wide mix of competitions. You could probably enter something, Ezra. Not too late. And you as well…" Uh. Rayathess turns to face Borodin again, only to fumble when no name comes to mind. Ah, awkward? "I mean… I've seen for myself how much Ista prides itself in it's rum and other local alcoholic drinks. It'd be… educational?" Is that the word he wants?

Ezra chuckles, lifting his ale in a silent toast to Borodin's vinter wisdom. "Have to figure out what /to/ enter," he admits with a thoughtful sip. And thus the evening continues, with some drink, some food, and more conversation. And hopefully no more wasted booze.
Drunken stupors can be very educational. So can the process of arriving in them. Borodin… well, he snorts with amusement, and then he'll serve some drinks, have some conversation, and otherwise tend to this bar until he's called away to other things and maybe eventually actually going to Ista for that education (and booze)!