Fort Weyr — Gemstone Tavern
The dim lighting by the flicker of candles lining the walls is enough to offer a view of a room decorated in such a way as to be tastefully appealing. Each piece of furniture and decoration is chosen to accent another piece, and so on and so forth, matching and tying the whole room together in a theme that's separate, and yet at the same time unified. Tables line one wall, dimly lit by candles hanging in sconces all along. The bar along the far right wall is made of richly toned mahogany, tooled by a master and polished to shine with the soft glow of wood at its finest.
Candles strategically placed add to the atmosphere, accenting, punctuating. Towards the back is an open fireplace, constantly burning with a bright light, warming the tavern on cold nights and serving as a gathering place for patrons' story-tellings. Across the room, lush pillows and soft-covered floors promote relaxation at ease. Just before the pillows is a long stage, so full of its own vigor and memory - nicks here, marks there, scuffs from footware and other things - that it's possible to imagine the shows put on for the patrons without necessarily seeing the performances.

Earlier in the morning saw the Weyr greeted by an early summer storm though the season is still very much in spring. Thunder rolled and rain fell in torrential sheets but even as the stormed rolled through the rain continued on until the late afternoon. Followed by a cold, biting wind it has made the outdoors downright miserable and with the mud and water now freezing as night falls very few venture out far. Those few that do are either brave or have a reason to trudge outside of the Weyr walls. Regardless, Gemstone Tavern has a few patrons and the room is cozy and warm. A few loners are hanging out by the bar, hunters, woodcrafters and foresters by their devices, as well as two Guards. Over in one of the dimmer corners and tucked nearest the hearth is a small huddled group of riders. All Wingriders and all from Roc and they are murmuring in low tones amongst themselves and despite the warm and relaxing atmosphere the rest of the tavern carries, they exude a certain tension. There is one that is missing from the tavern however. The Weyrleader is not present, though his written note has been delivered to Kimmila a few minutes ago by firelizard. A simple request for her to meet him there, if possible, as he's spent a good portion of the day coupes up in the Weyr with work-related affairs and is going stir crazy. Perhaps not quite written that way but it wouldn't be too hard to guess why Th'ero would want to come out all the way to Gemstone. Less people, different atmosphere!

Kimmila enters as per Th'ero's note, the bluerider having little to do other than paperwork (which she /does/ enjoy) and tending to Varmiroth while he heals. So the bluerider doesn't take long to get out here, finding a table to claim, ordering herself an ale and Th'ero one of his more vile drinks. The table is situated next to the Roc riders', and she offers them a casual nod of greeting.

"… he can't be thinking of promoting him! …" One voice says in a lowered voice and it's from a brownrider most know as H'lanin. Another voice answers, from a quieter spoken voice and a taller rider known as M'go. "… well that's what I heard … can't trust … you heard what he was like …?" Two other riders are silently nodding their heads, two blueriders: V'dres and Berra. It's V'dres who notes Kimmila's approach and he beams at her pleasantly enough. Blueriders UNITE! "Hey, Wingrider Kimmila! How's it go—ow!" The last is hissed as he jumps a bit from being kicked in the chins by M'go, the bronzerider giving him a look before nodding stiffly to Kimmila. As they fall silent, there is a hissed and growled comment that suspiciously sounds like "…shut up, she sleeps with the Weyrleader, you fool!" but maybe she just heard wrong? The entire group have gone silent, save to murmur a few greetings but it's clear H'lanin and M'go are not too thrilled she's there.

Kimmila tilts her head as she approaches, catching bits and pieces of the conversation. "You talking about me?" she asks with a teasing smile as she sits, leaning back in her chair until the back rests against the wall behind her. She surveys the group, winking at V'dres with a pleasant smile. "How's Roc?"

Well that brings a few amused snorts and chuckles from the group and a snicker from Berra. It's cheerful little V'dres there that just merrily chirps along in answer. "Oh no, no miss. We were talking about — uh, stuff." Stuff. Secret stuff, if the sudden LOOKS he gets from H'lanin and M'go mean anything and they do. It's the veiled threat to shut up or else and V'dres promptly silences himself with a sheepish shrug. "Roc is doing well. Lots of work now that the snows are gone." M'go answers cooly, while the others pretend to be interested in their drinks or the going ons of the tavern — which is very little. In an attempt to salvage what they can and not look so painfully suspicious despite the damage already done, Berra adds sweetly as she leans back in her chair to peer coyly at a fellow bluerider. "And how's things with you? We heard about Varmiroth…" And despite any ill feelings or tensions, her voice gentles and there are varied looks of sympathy and understanding from the group. They're all riders, they understand. "How's he coming along with his healing?"

Kimmila scans the group, curious but not pushing. Not yet. The topic of Varmiroth has her sighing, returning their sympathetic looks with a grateful smile. "He's restless. But healing well. Just have to keep him occupied so he doesn't fidget too much and open the wounds again. It's tough." And she has the dark circles to prove it.

V'dres and Berra both make sympathetic sounds, shaking their heads. "Aww, girl! If you need help with that you can ask us?" V'dres goes on to say, with Berra bobbing her head in agreement. "Zevusanth would be glad of some company I'm sure." "Shyzuth too!" Berra chips in with a light grin. H'lanin and M'go say nothing, with the latter of the two nursing his drink. It's the brown rider, H'lanin, who keeps eyeing Kimmila suspiciously and with barely masked distrust but he keeps his tone civil and polite enough. "It can be very tough, especially when they only mean well or want to do what normally comes natural to them."

Kimmila smiles at the group, nodding her head. "Thank you for the offer. I'll let him know there are others he can talk to, other than Velokraeth." The blue sticks to the bronze like velcro, most days. "It's true," she says to H'lanin, ignoring his suspicious look (oh yes, she notices). "It is. Even something as basic as stretching his neck he can't do just yet."

And likewise Velokraeth sticks to Varmiroth, something not entirely missed by other riders. M'go, perhaps, since the bronzerider darts a look to Kimmila for that comment. Does he disapprove? Hard to say, as he keeps his mug held close to his lips and nurses it. H'lanin's suspicious look is replaced by a grimace, nose wrinkling in sympathy while V'dres' hands flutter to his chest, a gesture that has Berra rolling her eyes significantly and giving Kimmila a 'oh boy' sort of look as the other blue rider goes on to exclaim. "Oh sweet Faranth, he got mauled in the neck by those things? Poor dear! Of all the places…" Thud! That'd be another kick, but this time it's not M'go but Berra who kicks him and they proceed to glare at each other while she hisses. "Shut. It." M'go and H'lanin snort and mutter a few words between themselves, but the brownrider is soon scowling and shaking his head.

Kimmila frowns when V'dres gets kicked for simply expressing sympathy. "Yeah, in his neck and chest," she says, gesturing to the aproxomate spots on herself. "Didn't even thing, just jumped on that full grown male feline…" She shakes her head and looks away, eyes distant. "Faranth help us," she murmurs. "Was a miracle we weren't all killed. Foolish…"

V'dres flutters his hands again and just looks stricken with sympathy for Kimmila, twisting his legs away to keep his poor shins from being kicked again but none come. Berra is too wrapped up in the elaboration to notice her colleagues behaviour and her expression shifts, softening. "No wonder you've had to keep him so still!" she murmurs. H'lanin and M'go cease whispering amongst themselves to peer at Kimmila again. "They don't often think clearly when their rider is in danger but Varmiroth did what had to be done." That comes from H'lanin, though M'go doesn't seem to share his colleagues praise. "It was foolish though. This is why we don't lounge around in Southern!" He begins to scoff and earns a smack to his arm from Berra and a scolding look as she clucks her tongue at him. "Jerk! It's not like they purposely camped with felines in range or went hunting for them!" M'go just glares down at Berra and H'lanin breaks that spell. "Enough you two. We've better things to be doing…" Darted sidelong look to Kimmila and a smirk. "…remember?" Back to the secrets! V'dres chimes in again. "Don't see what the big fuss is anyways." he mutters. "So what if he wants to—" Oh right. Shut it! Intimidated by the stares from the others, the blue rider goes silent again.

Kimmila shakes her head. "No, we didn't go hunting for them. Not this time." She toys with her talon necklace with a smirk. "And he made sure to check and ask if there were any sightings in the area, of course they said no, so. It was just bad luck on our part." She glances at the others and then gets to her feet. "Going to order myself some food. Anyone want anything? On me."

Berra's mouth drops open a bit in awe. Didn't go hunting for them… this time? Consider her mind blown! V'dres just… suddenly looks ready to swoon. "You saying he made you a camp in southern just for you?" he asks with a sigh. How sweet! And if he could have, he'd totally be all up in Kimmila's business asking her for details. ALL of them! Maybe she'll regret agreeing to allow Zevusanth to visit with Varmiroth. M'go's smirk only broadens and it's obvious the bronze rider doesn't think too highly of her now and H'lanin just seems indifferent. "No, we're good." he mutters and the moment she's walking away they're back to muttering amongst themselves and this time with more tension and anger lacing their whispered voices. Whether done purposely or only because they're swept up again in their discussion, a few words can be overheard if Kimmila is sneaky enough about it. "… we're not exactly being secret…" "…no thanks to you…!" "…she just wants to talk… why can't she know?" "…cause she is the Weyrleader's damn weyrmate! … and you know she has history with him too…" "… really?" "…shut up, will you?" And it goes on, drifting in and out and occasionally stopping abruptly as one of the riders will do a hasty scan of the tavern.

Kimmila winks at V'dres. So that's a yes. Lingering near the bar for a bit, she does catch bits and pieces of their conversation. Then when the food arrives, it seems she's ordered a /ton/. More plates than she can carry, so she looks over at the Roc table and calls, "Hey, V'dres! Mind giving me a hand?"

Silence from the table, all eyes turning to stare at Kimmila and then turn to V'dres and the tension could almost be felt thick enough to be cut with a knife. The bluerider seems to shrink back at first before he firms his jaw, sticking it up as he slips from his chair and saunters over before H'lanin can even begin to spout a protest. M'go's eyes follow and his expression is cold and closed off, while Berra just frowns in a concerned manner. Then they resume their hushed conversation, though Berra doesn't seem as focused and keeps darting looks back towards the bar. V'dres struts his way right up to Kimmila's side and his beaming grin is back in place. "Don't mind at all! Oh jays, girl! How much you planning to eat?" he exclaims teasingly, eyeing those plates. "You expecting friends? Or ya eating for two?" Cue a so obvious look to her stomach and a wink, followed by a chuckle and wry glimmer to his eyes. "Or better yet, your tall, dark and handsome weyrmate dropping in? Oh, please tell me he's coming by! Maybe he'll tell us of this ah… "camping" in Southern? Before uh… you know." That. With the felines. He looks sheepish now. "Sorry. Berra always says I'm good at going too far and sticking my foot in my mouth!" And rambling on apparently! Yet if
Kimmila is keen enough to see through it, it's mostly because V'dres is flighty and nervous.

Kimmila chuckles, grinning at V'dres as she gestures to the plates. "I'm expecting Th'ero, yes," she says with a laugh. "It was a beautiful camping trip, until the felines. Swimming and fishing. He went to /such/ trouble to get the site set up perfectly for us."
V'dres sighs gustily and with a dreamy look on his face before recalling that he had come to help Kimmila with the plates. "You are one lucky woman, Kimmila! All of that fuss just for you! Hmph. Some of the other riders should learn a trick or two from him! Never would have imagined the Weyrleader to be such a romantic!" So much for his reputation? Taking some of the plates in his arms, he gives Kimmila a lingering look then and his mood sobers, faltering as he glances between her and where his colleagues are sitting. H'lanin is staring him down and the blue rider promptly averts his eyes and clears his throat. "Ah, so… where you want all this?"

Kimmila smiles, shrugging one shoulder and pretending (very well) to be abashed. "I am," she says with a quiet, feminine sigh. "No one treats you that way?" she asks, glancing briefly to the table to give them a 'just a minute' smile. "Everything okay?" she asks in an undertone, turning to pay so no one at the table can see her expression or hear her low question.

V'dres falls for her false abashed behaviour, hook line and sinker. He adds his own sigh and then a saddened frown. "Me? Oh shards, no! Not even close. You kidding me?" he finishes with a stuttering laugh, just a bit too loud to be real. At her question, he attempts to feign confusion but he fails miserably at it. "Oh, everything's fine!" he scoffs, even jerking his head a bit as if to dismiss it since he can't wave a hand with them laden with plates. But there is no denying the way his eyes dart swiftly to the table and where the group have returned to muttering amongst themselves. V'dres' frown darkens just for a heart beat and then his beaming grin is back. "Just a bit of talk amongst Wingmates. Ya know?" Totally innocent stuff, honest! Now V'dres shifts uncomfortably. "We brining this back to your table?" he asks again.

Kimmila nods, "Yeah. Thanks. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help." She gives him a look and then carries plates back to her table, setting them all down. "Help yourselves if you see anything you like," she says with a gesture to the Roc table and then all her assorted goodies. Which she put on Th'ero's tab. You're welcome!

"Well, maybe you could help…" V'dres begins to mutter as he turns to walk alongside her back to the tables. He speaks hurriedly, as if fearing being overheard by his colleagues. Apparently the bluerider was the sympathizer in the group, the one who was trying to convince them to let her in. Well, screw them! He's talking. "… you know anything of a greenrider named X'on? He's been shadowing Gr'ant a lot lately, our Wingleader. Worse now that there's rumours, ya know?" Does she know? No chance to elaborate as they're back at the tables and V'dres goes silent though his grin remains in place. "Come on, guys! She's got a feast here!" And he'll promptly select a few tidbits as 'payment' for his help, tipping a mock salute to Kimmila. M'go and H'lanin just eye her offering as though it's a trap, though Berra is pushing to her feet, obviously hungry.

Kimmila gives V'dres a little nod before she's settling, nibbling on food. Offering the Roc table another smile, she quiets, settling back to eat and wait for Th'ero. Though her mind is whirling with the name of X'on. Grrrrr.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive? Berra and V'dres are lingering about Kimmila's table, too focused on selecting a tasty morsel of food to notice that she's gone quiet on them and H'lanin and M'go are just plain ignoring her now and her offering. It's then that the Weyrleader arrives, slipping through the door of the tavern with hardly and pomp or ceremony. One moment he's not there, the next he is. Yet the reaction at the Roc table is like he stormed the tavern and kicked down the door in a rage. H'lanin jerks a bit in his chair and M'go just glowers as he hisses something urgently to V'dres and Berra. Both blue riders look a bit sullen and rebellious, but a warning glance from H'lanin have them submitting. "Nice talking you you!" Berra mutters hurriedly, while V'dres looks ready to just all out pout. "Clear skies and give my regards to Varmiroth! Offer still stands ya know!" he tells her and just like that the Roc table clears out. Th'ero is utterly oblivious as he begins to stride in, offering his greetings in passing to the Roc Wingriders and receiving curt and hurried responses. Something must brush him the wrong way though as even after they all leave his gaze is still lingering to follow them before he turns to face Kimmila and join her at her table. "Why… do I feel like I just interrupted something?" he drawls as he settles down beside her and begins shrugging out of his jacket. "Sorry I was so long, Wingmate. Just when I thought I'd be done, I wasn't."

Kimmila shakes her head at Th'ero's apology, nodding to the tons of food and his waiting ale. "Don't apologize, it's fine. I felt the same way too. Couldn't get much out of them, but V'dres mentioned something about X'on." She scowls darkly at his name. "He's apparently been shadowing Gr'ant."

He had to ask, didn't he? Th'ero frowns heavily as his already tired mind tries to absorb all that Kimmila dumps on his lap even before he's finished setting his jacket aside and settling in comfortably. He takes the ale without pause and swallows a long, deep swig of it without even so much as a twitch from the taste. The food he only eyes and then gives her a look. Really? All of this? But he'll pick at some of it, since she went through the trouble. "Well, you've heard the gossip concerning Gr'ant, haven't you? As for X'on…" His voice drops then, almost a growl as his expression darkens too. "…I've no idea if what this V'dres says is true. I do know that X'on has been… wiser since his little exile from the Weyr." That doesn't mean the Weyrleader trusts him and he is not shy in the least to show that.

Kimmila snorts softly, shaking her head and shrugging. "Still. He can't be…considering /him/ as his replacement can he?" she mutters under his breath. "Wiser, perhaps, but…no less of an asshole I'm sure. People don't just grow out of that."

Th'ero is silent as he gazes ahead, mulling over his thoughts as he takes another slow swig of his drink. "I've no idea, Wingmate." he exhales heavily with a grimace. "If there is any truth to the gossip going around, Gr'ant is keeping to himself about whatever decisions he's made. We don't even know for certain if he is stepping down… he's not approached me with that. This could just all be heresy or the mutterings of a few unhappy Wingriders." he mutters, which is likely what the Weyrleader is hoping it will be. He snorts and gives her a crooked smirk as he sets his drink down and slips an arm around her. "No, they don't and I don't like this any more than you do. There are many other riders Gr'ant can choose from and ones I have no doubt he'd select if he is truly stepping down. X'on is… young and not his strongest Wingrider." To put it lightly.

Kimmila frowns a bit and then shrugs. "Well, who knows, but I certainly hope that's not the case." Then there's another shrug and sip of her ale. "So how was your day?" Smalltalk. She's okay at it.

Th'ero has no answer for her, save to gaze out towards the door where the Roc Wingriders left not moments ago with a heavy frown that is both thoughtful and troubled. "I will have to speak to Gr'ant." he says quietly and rather sudden. Is he worried then? Smalltalk is welcomed then, if to take his mind off of potentially headache inducing theories and concerns. Not that he hasn't already had his fill of that today to judge by his tired sigh. "Dull?" he mutters, prodding at his mug of ale and then taking a piece of bread and shredding it to crumbs. Sorry to whoever has to clean their table! "Got caught in that storm this morning and soaked through, so I stopped in the living caverns to warm up. Spoke briefly with Abigail and Anique before I was called to the council chambers to talk with the Weyrwomen and go over the recent reports…" He flicks a hand in a 'the usual' sort of gesture. "More work in my office then… and I lost track of time. I had hoped to make it up to you." Cue a sweep of his arm to indicate 'dinner at the tavern' and followed with a frustrated sound. "But that didn't quite work either."

Kimmila shrugs, "It's fine, wingmate. We're here and we can still eat. It didn't not work out. How is Abigail doing? Amazing she had her kid, isn't it? Already up and moving around."

Th'ero pauses midway through shredding another piece of bread and considers what she tells him before resuming his habit. Shred, shred, shred. Maybe that's a no on the eating? "Mhm." he all but grunts and then murmurs. "Abigail seems to be doing just fine. And how is that amazing? It's been… two sevendays I think she said since her daughter was born? I'm more — worried with how quiet she kept it all. She's anxious I think too to return to her duties."

Kimmila eyes the shredding and sighs inwardly, but what can she do? Just wait and see if his mood shifts. And then clean up after him so the poor waitress doesn't have to. All this food…mostly to try and entice Roc, honestly. She does grin wryly at him though. "You try giving birth and see how you feel two sevendays after," she teases. Then there's a slight nod. "Yeah…very, very quiet. I don't think I'd have found out if I hadn't gone into the infirmary for some redwort. You don't think she's…ashamed or anything, do you? I mean. I'm not a fan of the kid's father but who cares what I think?"

All that food, ignored by the Roc riders and now only to be shredded by the Weyrleader. Does the tavern allow for take-away? "No thank you, that's not something I'll wish to experience. I witnessed enough to know…" Th'ero drawls at her teasing, giving her sidelong look and the faintest of smirks before he's abandoning the food in favour of his drink. Which he nurses quietly as he leans back in his seat, his gaze drifting out over the tavern but distant and distracted. "So you've seen the little girl? I've yet to even see Abigail with her. And I am not certain. I've tried to speak frankly and casually with Abigail before and she shut me out. I've not tried since." he admits with a shake of his head before quirking a brow and peering down at her. "I care what you think? Others do too. I just get the impression Abigail is a very… private person. Just wasn't expecting it to be to levels quite that extreme."

Kimmila shakes her head. "I didn't see her, no, but I heard them talking about her." Then she frowns. "Hmm, really? She…hmm. She's difficult to read sometimes. Kind of reminds me of Dei, in that way. She can clam up pretty quickly and not give any…meat to the conversation. There are walls there, you know? And yes. Private is a more polite way to put it. But maybe she just takes time. A…lot of time." She gives him a gentle nudge. "You can't worry about everyone, wingmate."

Th'ero frowns as well at that detail. "Maybe she doesn't want the attention?" he says slowly as if carefully laying out some theory to explain the Wingsecond's behaviour. "Yes, she does remind me of Dtirae in that way. Yet I shouldn't criticize. After all, I was just as guilty as them at one point in my life." He snorts then. "Turns of time?" At the nudge, he smirks and gently returns it before taking the last swig of his ale and setting the mug aside. "I know that." he mutters. "But I do. It's my duty, in a way, to care." Yet it's more than that to him and he lifts a hand to scrub tiredly at his cheeks and jaw as he exhales. "This whole business now with X'on sniffing around Gr'ant and the gossip going on about him is… troubling. I can't have it go on and risk demoralizing an entire Wing."

Kimmila shrugs, "Maybe, but…I don't know. I get being private, but being /that/ private and not opening up to folks you know?" Then she smirks. "Maybe she just doesn't like us. Yes, you were private, but you've improved an awful lot. You're much more open, and don't close off or shut people out like some other folks do. You can /talk/ to people." Then she shrugs. "Yeah, it's your duty, but there's only so much you can do." Then she gives him a look of concern, leaning her leg against his beneath the table. "Talk to Gr'ant?" she suggests. "Go right to the source, and if it is a rumor he needs to clear it up. If it isn't…well. You're the Weyrleader."

Th'ero snorts, "Could be she doesn't trust us or prefers to keep us distanced to not mingle personal life with duty." Which is just fine from his logical mind's opinion. Blinking, he ducks his head at her praise but his mouth does quirk up into a soft smile. "True. I only improved though because I had someone stubborn enough and willing enough to be patient to work me out of those habits." he murmurs. "And perhaps that is all she needs too but it won't be us." Or maybe it will? He doesn't seem to put much hope in it but it doesn't seem to be the biggest concern weighing his shoulders and mind down at the moment. Then she's leaning against him with her leg and his hand drops down beneath the table to rest his hand against it in firm contact. "I plan to." Th'ero murmurs in a low tone. "Most likely first thing in the morning." He does not sound thrilled at all and his mouth draws back into a grim line. "Yes, I am the Weyrleader." he intones flatly before exhaling. Shards, he's tired. "Would you join me in speaking with Gr'ant?"

Kimmila chuckles. "Also a possibility." Then she smiles, giving him a little nudge. "You were worth it," she says quietly. "But no, I don't think it'll be us, for her. Maybe though. I mean I've tried, but." She shrugs, then grins. "Maybe she and Dei will bond." She covers his hand with hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Of course I will, wingmate," she says, voice soft. "If you wish me to be there. You know I will."

Th'ero grunts softly at her little nudge and returns it gently, only to chuckle quietly. "I'm glad I was." he murmurs and smirks crookedly. "We've both tried and I suppose we can only… keep trying. Not truly press her but… just small talk." Which neither of them are great at. At all. That'll go over well! He bites back a choked laugh, realizing just how awful it would be if he did. "What? You think those two will bond?" he mutters skeptically. "Maybe they'll cancel each other out with their standoffishness." Squeezing her hand back, he continues to hold it in a firm grip as he rests both their hands against his leg. His free hand reaches forwards and rather than shred food he is actually taking a few small pieces to eat. "I do wish for you to be there. Always." he tells her quietly.

Kimmila shrugs, and then she laughs. "Yeah, something like that. They both hunt, so…" She shrugs. "I don't know." When he begins to eat her shoulders relax a tad. "Then I will be. When, tomorrow morning? I can postpone my trip to the records room." She says it as if it's some big deal, but her eyes give her away. She is /bored/. And so is Varmiroth.

Th'ero tries to withhold his laughter again but loses control, his chuckles rapidly becoming soft laughs. "Bonding over hunting, hmm? Suppose it would work." he muses and then adds in a quieter whisper as he leans in closer to her ear. "Worked for us, didn't it?" He grins faintly as he sits back, some of his good humour and temper returning now and he begins to pick at the food with more interest. Maybe he was grouchy because he hadn't eaten! His nose wrinkles between bites and once he swallows he gives her a sidelong look. "What do they have you doing in the records room?" he asks and he can see that bored look in her eyes. He squeezes her hand reassuringly. "How is Varmiroth mending? Are his stitches out yet?"

Kimmila winks at him as she leans back to listen, and she grins. "It did indeed," she murmurs, nuzzling his neck briefly before she's returning to proper public behavior. "Oh, this and that. Mostly organizing, looking at the older records. Finding the ones that need to be copied. Prioritizing. And he's mending fine but no, they're not out just yet and he's going stir crazy. He can't even stretch right now, and he's just…cramped."

Th'ero blinks when she nuzzles him (in public!) and steps it up a bit by returning it but also kissing her. Just a swift, gentle and respectful one that is over so fast it's a wonder if anyone even noticed the exchange. This is the Gemstone Tavern though and they could probably get away with some making out if they wanted some ogling audience cheering them on. "Sounds… absolutely dull." he drawls, giving her a look. He knows she loves paperwork but even THAT has to push her tolerance! He sighs then, frowning a little. "There has to be something we can do to ease his restlessness. Have the Dragonhealer's not even cleared him for light stretching? Are the areas around the stitching still tender? If not, I could show you how I usually knead Velokraeth's cramped forelimbs?" Dragon massage! "It may help him?"

Kimmila nods, "It's quickly getting dull," she agrees with a little grimace. Surprised by the kiss, she returns it eagerly and then tries to nip his lip in a playful return. "Not yet. It's still tender, yes. Warm but not hot. Not infected, but…healing. But I would still like to know, so I can help him when I can touch him there."

She'll get that nip in and it brings a surprised throaty sound from Th'ero as he looks down at her. When his hand grips hers again, it's tighter and almost possessive before it slips away to rest against her thigh. "Then I want you to be with me for this issue with Gr'ant. Help organize…whatever may need to be done so we can present it to council. IF I have to call one." From his tone, he is hoping he doesn't. "Good. And you can use it on his uninjured muscles too. Something at least to release the tension he may be feeling from being so inactive." Looking up and over the tavern room, he seems thoughtful before turning to look back at her. "The night is still young. We could return to our weyr now and I can show you? Or we can do it in the morning after we speak to Gr'ant."

Kimmila grins at him with a bit of playful wickedness. Seems she's distracting herself another way. "Of course, wingmate. I'll be happy to do that." And offer her input, as she always does. Either there and then, or later when they're in private once more. "That would be great. And whatever you wish to do, wingmate. If you want to stay here or if you want to go back…"

Where else would he want to go when she is grinning at him with some playful wickedness? Th'ero's eyes roam over her, unashamed but discreet enough that he's not outright leering at her in public. Not that it matters, as the hunters, Guards and woodcrafters are all in their own bubble of conversation on the other side of the tavern. "Let's go home, Wingmate. I think I wish to spend the rest of the night in peace and quiet…" Yeah right! That's certainly code for something, given the look he gives her and the way he slips his arm around her once they're both on their feet. He keeps close to her, even as he slips his jacket on and his gloves, hovering but not quite touching yet. That'll be for when they're outside on the dim lit paths. At least the rain has let up!