Fort Weyr - Weyrsecond's and Jr. Weyrwomen's Office

Aged by time, just like the other offices carved into the stone, these ones have lived through the ages of Fort with the only change given to time being subtle ones to the decor as new staff come to fill the space. Situated next to the Weyrleader's Office, the small cavern leads into a spacious alcove of sorts before branching into two separate directions. On the right it leads to the Weyrsecond's personal office, a modest sized room complete with all the necessary furnishings required, along with a few shelves, a book shelf and storage for records and reports. On the left, it leads to the Junior Weyrwomen's offices and this larger room is set with three desks rather than one, along with all the other necessities needed. Both offices have small hearths built in to offer some warmth in the colder months and as there are no windows, several glow baskets have been installed to offer enough light and a few tapestries hung to offer a touch of color. Doors have also been painstakingly worked in, allowing some privacy if needed, though often they are left open.

The afternoon is lengthening as Rukbat descends into the west, casting the snowy peaks around the bowl in a peach-gold glow. The dinner hour approaches, delicious scents waft through the corridor while most people wrap up their work for the day and prepare to head to the caverns for the evening meal. D'ani is no exception, work does tend to whet his appetite, especially when extra things like see candidates on their trips to crafthalls and supervise egg touchings cause him to forget lunch. He's seated in his desk, finishing up the reports he owes the Weyrleaders, fatigue and distraction etching his features.

When did a little snow ever stop the Weyrwoman? Not ever, even when still technically recovering. So, while her stride isn't what it once was, the woman still strides with a staggered purpose. And, it isn't just the drinks that bring such a stagger. It's been some time since Dtirae has come into the Weyrsecond's office without any sort of actual work. In fact, she's been staying far away of she can manage. It might come more as a surprise that she's the one swinging open the door, and then not so gently shutting it behind her. Grey eyes find their prey, and she makes her way over to the desk. There is a pause and one can only hope that it is her rational mind arguing against hasty descisions! And that might be true as she's not clearing his desk and trying to focus the attention of the poor Weyrsecond on her instead of his work. "D'ani… I'm sorry."

If the Weyrwoman has been avoiding D'ani he's not cognizant of the fact. Not seen her much? Yeah. Misses her? Certainly. Has she been withdrawn when he has seen her? Probably. Has he noticed? Most definitely. But with the doting Dremkoth clinging to Kouzevelth, restless and fretful to be back by her side when out on sweeps or hold visits, besotted affectionate mood and snippets shared with his rider at inopportune times day and night, finally the eggs on the sands and a gushing enthralled papa admiring 'his' egglets (oh yes, he calls them that), candidates arriving and all that comes with that, his days have been busier than usual and his mind frayed enough that he's assumed the Weyrwoman has been as harried as he has been. And thus, her entrance into the office he shares with Inri isn't so much a surprise as the slamming door after her. And the apology, which erases the smile of welcome to a look of total confusion. He rises, partially out of respect (ahh those Maiona manners instilled in him) and partially to reach a hand across his desk to steady her. "For what?" he says, genuinely clueless.

Dtirae takes the hand offered, for more reasons than one and certainly not for the reason he's offered it out (or, maybe a little). When she's settled, grey eyes look over the bronzerider before she heaves a sigh, covering her face. "And I was, worryin' that yer mad'n what not, but you ain't even noticed." Or, so she assumes, because he has no idea what she could possibly be apologizing for. Her hand remains partially covering her eyes, not even peeking at him. "Shells'n shards…" Comes her soft muttering before her hand drops, pinning the bronzerider with a look. "Been avoidin' you since the flight.. Not 'cause of the flight, mind." Well, maybe a little. The flight was involved.

Dumbfounded, "I'm not mad at you, Rae," D'ani says, as his hand assists her into one of those chairs. Concerned, confused, yes, mad, no. He sets the pen down that he'd been writing with when she came in, moves around his desk, pulls a chair close to hers and seats himself brown eyes on the back of those hands covering her face. He draws a steadying breath, silent to give her time to pull herself together. She'll speak when she's ready, he knows this and there's no point flustering her more by pressing. So he waits. And when that hand drops, his eyes are there to meet hers without flinching. Her hand, now that it isn't busy covering her face, is reached for and if not yanked back, he'll stroke it gently with his thumb. "You… have?" And not because of the flight? "Why?"

His lack of anger is good, and certainly reassuring. Dtirae makes no comment on that, however. When he reaches for her hand, she allows him to take it without even a flinch or hesitation. Fingers partially curl to grip his own in response. There may be a time later when she'll find his cluelessness cute, but at the moment she gives him a little smile. "Cause…" Pause, more consideration, or a floundering of words. "Cause I got jealous, D'ani. Ain't ever been jealous. Don't like it, at all, by the way. Been drinkin' a lot more because I couldn't figure it out… Bein' near you was hard, made it worse. Then being away made it worser. And, shit. 'm a mess…"

D'ani is aware of the alcohol fumes, has been since she'd walked into his office, but has said nothing until it's mentioned. As she begins, he tugs her hand towards him and cups it in both hands, holding it with a gentle press of fingers to encourage her. Of the drinking more, he chuckles, "That's…probably not going to help you a whole lot in figuring things out, Rae." Color him even more confused as Dtirae half-way explains. She said avoiding since the flight but not because of the flight. He listens aaaand… is not enlightened. Moreover, he recalls playing guessing games with her in her weyr the morning after that flight. He sighs inwardly. He doesn't have the endurance for this tonight. So he cuts to the chase, "Of who are you jealous, Rae?" Then more firmly, "And please just… spill it. What's bothering you? All of it." His eyes, remain on hers, expectant but without condemnation. See? He's just D'ani, no need to be reticent.

Dtirae is certainly not trying to hide the fact that she's been drinking, at least. As both hands come to clasp hers, she gives him a little look. It lingers on pitiful, or maybe helpless. "It used to." More like delayed, "that or punchin' things and that ain't helpin' any, and I ain't been punchin' anything." As for his cutting to the chase? No complaints there, except for the fact that words aren't exactly her strong point at the moment. "Look… I tend ta be a punch first, talk later… Person. Tryin' not ta be, but, sometimes it happens." Pause, "'m jealous of Inri, okay? Jealous that you were feelin'… Weird. Jealous 'cause of really.. Uh… Silly," clearly not the word she was looking for, but it will do. "It was in the past, but… I ain't ever felt jealous. Or cared 'bout anyone this much b'fore and I don't know how ta handle it. I feel like 'm all messed up and I hate it, but I don't want it to stop. But, I really hate it."

She isn't. But D'ani is too well-mannered to point it out, even if it's obvious she's drunk. "Hmm, yeah, I get that. Mostly though what it does is confuse your ability to think." Since she just said she couldn't figure it out. "Thank you for not," he interjects somewhat facetiously of punching, but partly truly meaning it, during that short pose of hers. Her admission is absorbed in silence, and then he chuckles, shaking his head. "You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of, Dtirae. She's a good friend, one of my best friends, but she's never even so much as looked at me. Or noticed my interest. Which is all it was, not you know… like. I wasn't in love with her. That takes… time." He elaborates his point with a smile tugging at his mouth, "You know what the first thing she said when she woke up and saw it was me in her bed? Something about dragons inbreeding and she was glad Velokraeth hadn't mated with his offspring." His poor ego, right? "Then she congratulated me and… it was like a… a cheery shield of impersonality." He shakes his head ruefully, repeating, "There's nothing to be jealous of." And then he sobers, looks her straight in the eye, assuring her earnestly, "It's not silly."

Such a well-mannered man he is, as Dtirae might not be one not to point out that information. "Yeah, there's that." And that would explain why she would not be able to pinpoint her problem without guidance. There's a brief look at him where her nose wrinkles, "I wouldn't punch you, D'ani." She insists with a soft little whine in her tone. Another hint that she's not entirely herself. Dtirae does not whine. "I know I got nothin' ta be jealous 'bout. I know, but part've me is all… Weird and doesn't like it. The other part doesn't mind and I know you ain't in love with her…" She shuts up, lest she ramble through his own talking. There's a soft snort, "dragons ain't the same with dogs. Somethin' 'bout genetics, small population, needin' more…" But, she leaves it at that. With his reassurance, yet again, that there's nothing to be jealous of she begins to visibly relax. "It ain't silly? I think it is. Cause flights're goin' ta happen and I can't get jealous every single time. Well, I guess it ain't like yer goin' ta have a past with everyone…"

D'ani's hands press warmly, a silent encouragement for her to go on. To the denial of her punching him, he says nothing; it is something he's thankful for not happening again, regardless of the past influences prompting her first one. Dtirae's comment about dragons and dogs earns her a short, confused glance, but again he says nothing to that. Genetics, as right after a flight, during this emotional conversation is a subject for another time and it's apparent that she's missed his point in mentioning it anyway. "It's not silly," he assures her earnestly and without a shred of vanity. Lookit him be all humble and not egotastic with the, 'Of course you're jealous, dahlink, how could you not be?' Instead, he is serious, "Feelings do not follow logic, Rae; you can't make them. And yeah, flights are going to happen but," he chuckles again, this time grasping for patience as he tries again, "I don't have a past with Inri. It is what it is. We're good friends, comfortable, we get along."

Dtirae's rambling, really, he can ignore most of what she's saying that's not entirely relevant to their conversation. His insistence that her feelings are not silly earns a very slight smile, her fingers curling, giving a gentle squeeze of thanks. "Guess not. Feelin's are weird." She relents, sighing softly in a sort of defeat. Feelings win this battle, and possibly the war. "Okay, there ain't a past with her. But, she got you in bed b'fore I did." And yes, she said that with a completely straight face.

D'ani will, at least, sort through and address the relevant parts, hopefully not missing what's important. "Feeling are definitely weird," he agrees. "They're inconvenient sometimes too, but without them we wouldn't be healthy, so it's best to accept and deal with them, yeah?" He smiles at her, returns that squeeze of fingers and sits back up from his lean forward as she speaks again. Upon her remark, he blinks, then laughs, a touch uncomfortably, "Well, her dragon did." One of his hands leaves hers to rub the back of his neck. Apparently you can take the boy out of the hold, but you can't take the hold out of the boy. "I told you, Rae, remember? When you asked me to date you? That I do it right."

"Inconvenient always." Dtirae argues with a touch of a grin before she's nodding her agreement. When he leans bacl, she scoots forward, just a touch. His uncomfortable laughter earns him a wider grin, entirely teasing and a dash of amused. "I know. 'm just teasin' you, Rider. Just teasin'. I ain't goin' ta rush you." This is promised softly and she gingerly begins to withdraw her hand. "We're doin' it your way, not my crazy way."

Yes, he's a rider, that reminder earns her another look before a crooked smile tugs at his mouth, "Don't think I'm not tempted," he says, retaining her hand with a tightening of his grip. No you don't! That hand is his for the time being. He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the tips of her fingers. He rises then, aiming to draw her to her feet, wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into a comforting hug. If she acquiesces, he'll murmur into her hair, "Your way isn't crazy, either. But for this, I'm making no mistakes, Weyrwoman." A subtle reminder of the added complexities there. "Come, it's time for dinner and I'm starved. I've a feeling you haven't eaten either." If nothing else, he'll ply her with klah. And send her to bed to sleep off…whatever she had to drink too much of.