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.

It is stormy, the winter wind howling outside - not that you can hear it in here. Not with the thick stone walls and the usual din of conversation and drinking, the rhythmic thud of darts and all that good stuff. Rain and snow drives folks inwards, at least until it passes. In here, things are warm and bustling without being overly uncomfortable or crowded, which is how Kimmila likes it. She's procured her favorite corner table in the back - the one that lets you watch everything - and she's taken the seat to the right of the seat that has the /best/ viewing. Two guesses who she's saved that seat for, and the first one doesn't count. On the table in front of her is a plate of cheese and crackers from which she nibbles, a few glasses, and a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice tub. Ironic, considering the weather? Perhaps. But Kimm has booze so Kimm wants to drink booze.

M'lo comes in with a small child asleep in his arms. Nearly seven turns, little Eldann is out like a light, his arms and legs dangling like noodles and his head resting on his father's shoulder. There's a bit of drool coming from the corner of his mouth, but like most parents, M'lo has long since become inured to it. He grins a bit at Kimmila and wanders her way. "Hey," he says cheerfully. He's not really even bothering to keep his voice down. The little boy doesn't even twitch. "Mind if I join you?"

The storm has forced another indoors or at least given him the time needed to escape indoors with a valid excuse /not/ to be. Th'ero does not frequent Shenanigan's as much as he once had, with Gemstone being prefered and even then the Weyrleader has had little time to escape. Even with the Weyrlings long since settled under a new Weyrlingmaster, his work has hardly abated and it's only with the weather delaying his reports and patrols that the bronzerider can finally sneak away ahead of schedule. He arrives in his more worn looking flight gear and without his knot pinned to his shoulder — not that that helps him hide at all. But it's a signal: he's not on duty. Leave him alone. Well, his /expression/ says that last part or the lack of much of a smile should anyone greet him. Most folk are used to that and so Th'ero picks his way down to that favored spot, where he know's she'll be likely already settled in. Without skipping a beat or really glancing around, he slips into that vacant chair next to Kimmila, the last of the one's with the best view. "Didn't keep you waiting, I hope?" he murmurs to her, before actually glancing up to take stock of who's standing so close. Instantly recognizing his own Weyrsecond, the Weyrleader clears his throat. "Sorry, was so focused on just wanting to /sit/ that I didn't see you there, M'lo."

Looking a little tired, Inri is practically sneaking into Shenanigan's. Not sneaking in that she's not allowed to be there, as such; she may not be allowed to drink, but having worked in a tavern her entire life, the weyrling is no stranger to being around booze and not drinking it. She can't actually go all the way to her old haunt without fussing from Kouzevelth over the distance, and so hasn't even /tried/ to visit the Gemstone; this stop in Shenanigan's is also her first since Impression. Her hair's tightly bound in a braid wrapped around her head, and she's wearing a soaked jacket. She doesn't sit, and doesn't even make it all the way in the room, so much as hover at first, taking things in and glancing over at various people — eventually choosing a chair /near/, but not /with/, the others.

Kimmila looks up when M'lo arrives, and her grimace is pretty obvious when she looks at the drooling…littlehuman on M'lo's shoulder. "Uh. Sure, go ahead. He's not gonna like…start crying or anything is he?" You'd think as a mother of one, she'd know better. But no, not really. When Th'ero arrives she gives him a brief look over, and shakes her head. "Nope, not long anyway. I'm still not dried out." Reaching forward, she lifts the wine bottle from the bucket of ice with a soft shhhk sound, and puts it down. "This is the wine I traded that Vinter the knife for. Join us, M'lo? It's supposed to be good." And she starts to unwrap the cork, carefully and gently. It cost her a good blade, after all! As she does it her eyes sweep the room out of habit, and she sees Inri. "Hey!" she hollers across the room, "goldie!" That probably won't help much. "C'mere!"

M'lo just grins at Th'ero, dismissing the apology. "I'm so bland that I blend into the walls," he teases. Of course, he may have been wearing cream and burgandy today, but bland isn't really a word that typically fits the brownrider. "Nah, he's good," he tells Kimmila, and takes a seat. He rearranges Eldann so that the little guy is sort of sitting in his lap with his head resting against his father's chest. The boy doesn't wake, but he scrunches up his face and mumbles, "Don't eat my boogers!" M'lo eyes the wine and grins. "Yes, please," he says. "It's so cold out there, I could use something to warm my toes." He, too, glances Inri's way, and wiggles his fingers at her in a friendly sort of greeting.

Th'ero leans forwards a little in his seat as he unfastens his riding jacket and slips out of it, slinging the only slightly damp leathers over the back of his chair. Then he truly makes himself comfortable or at least leans back, though he's far from slouching or looking all that relaxed really. Even without his fancy knot or being on duty, it takes awhile for the Weyrleader to wind down. "Patrols?" he asks Kimmila, turning his head briefly to give the bluerider a once over with his eyes, as if only now taking stock of her damp clothing. When the wine is revealed, Th'ero's brows lift both in appreciation and surprise. "Huh. Merikwan give any hint to the vintage or the Turn? And it should be /better/ than just "good". I know you did not just give him a mere knife." he murmurs in a low tone and yet loud enough for most nearby to overhear well enough. "Nothing wrong with blending in," Th'ero drawls then for M'lo's teasing remark, only then noticing the boy the Weyrsecond is holding. That earns a slight frown, both curious and almost baffled but the bronzerider says nothing, as Kimmila is suddenly calling out "goldie". Goldie? Head lifts, eyes scan and… well, what do we have here? "Inri." he echoes and also adds his own gesture, though the subtlest of them all — just a slight tilt of his head. Come on over? "Kouzevelth is well?"

Goldie — er, Inri — pulls herself back out of the chair she'd just hesitantly sat on the edge of rather than really gotten comfortable in, and, for lack of a better word, sloshes over. Her shoes and pants are both moist enough to be creating that kind of sound. At least her hair isn't falling out of the braids? "Hi," she says, offering salutes, and, "Weyrleader. Weyrsecond. Bluerider," because she doesn't really know what else to call Kimmila until corrected, again, back to first-name basis, same as Dtirae. Assuming the invite included a chair, she finds another one to perch on that's actually part of the group, and after answering the question, "Kouzevelth is /asleep/, for the first time in what feels like forever," with great relief, she's back to her old ways, paying attention to the wine: "What've you got?"

"Why do you have your kid in a bar?" There, Kimmila is going to ask it, eying the child once more and then drawing herself away when he mumbles about boogers. Shudder. Still, she continues with opening the bottle of wine. "Yeah," she answers Th'ero. "Nothing far, just straight flights to a few cotholds. Delivering some supplies that couldn't wait for the wagons." And she includes M'lo in that, since the Weyrsecond is bound to know about the bluerider's deliveries and visits to cotholds, checking in before winter sets in. "He…didn't. I don't think he did anyway," she answers, eying the bottle again before she gets it open, and begins to pour. She doesn't correct Inri on rank, but she does give her a crooked grin and, "Kimmila. Glad she's sleeping. It's a relief, no?" And, darting a glance at Th'ero, she grabs a fourth glass and puts a *tiny* amount into it, and pushes it towards Inri. "A nice white, from our new Vinter." Quick! Drink it fast before those with 'weyr' at the beginning of their title step in!

"Sometimes blending is useful," M'lo agrees. "But I never have /quite/ managed to learn the knack for it." He chuckles a little bit. Noticing his boss throwing confused looks at Eldann, he explains. "Ely's having a girls night with Mila and Dani." His daughter, not the Weyrling. She had the nickname first! "Thought I'd spend a bit of time with my boy. We're… not allowed back for another hour." He rolled his eyes a bit at that. Then he grins and shrugs at Kimmila. "It's not like I'm going to give him an ale, is it?" He blinks at the wine sliding across the table toward the Weyrling, and reaches out to intercept it. "Ah… since Th'ero's not wearing his knot right now, I have to be the responsible leader and say… /no/. Sorry." He really does look like it pains him to be such a stickler for the rules.

"Th'ero," Comes the first correction for Inri, the Weyrleader grimacing a little at the formality of the titles and yet not entirely faulting her for it. She's being a good Weyrling, after all. "I've no knot and I'm not exactly in the most ah… formal of situations? Casual is fine, you can drop the titles." As he never used hers to start. But that is neither here nor there and he reaches to snag a piece of cheese from Kimmila's platter. There's a slight frown, "She's a restless sort?" he asks Inri curiously, before his attention is drawn back to his weyrmate. He misinterprets her drawing away and shuffles a bit closer to her, though he's still keeping respectful on the whole physical touching business. "I'm sure they appreciated that. Nothing out of sorts, then?" he asks in a lower voice, enough for their table to hear but not far beyond that. Th'ero looks almost sympathetic for M'lo's lockout from his own weyr due to "girl's night" but the Weyrleader only shakes his head. By then, Kimmila's pouring the wine out into three — no four — glasses. That has him frowning, but the *tiny* amount has the bronzerider smirking a bit and easing back. Until the glass is intercepted and his gaze darts back to his Weyrsecond. "Just because I have no knot does not mean I do not hold command," Th'ero replies a touch flatly, until a faint smile quirks one corner of his mouth. He'll reach out too to snag that glass from M'lo's grip, provided the brownrider doesn't snatch it back. It's then promptly set by Inri, though not without an explanation beyond what may be assumed. "Inri, you know how to properly /taste/ a wine, I assume? Though that seems just as cruel, the choice is yours. Taste or drink it or do neither. Regardless, that much is not about to do any damage, let alone be an utter tease. And it's not like we'll be giving her anymore." Right? That earns everyone a pointed look.

Likely Inri never expected anyone to use her title; is 'weyrling' much more of a distinction that needs to be highlighted? She's at the bottom of the totem pole of the riders, so never expected attention paid to her name. She watches the exchange of cheese and the drink as it appears and disappears and reappears again before her, squinting and chewing the edge of her lip slightly. And deciding, apparently, to just not use names again, just in case. "'Course I do, sir. Used to be part of my job to teach others to do so as well — I'll just take a tiny sip," she says, and before doing so lifts the glass in order to simply wave her hand over the top and waft the smell in her direction, "though I think unlike a formal tasting I'll probably swallow it, too. Can't possibly bother Kouzevelth when she's not even awake and ate enough I'm sure she'll be out a while." Once the smelling is complete, she takes a /tiny/ little sip, just enough to establish what she's drinking before swallowing. "Okay, does anyone know the /answer/ to the vintage? 'Cause I'd guess, but I don't want to waste a braincell if there's no answer."

Kimmila gives M'lo a look that's half pout and half scowl, perhaps lessening the 'party pooper' effect. Or perhaps not. "Girl's night?" She seems positively baffled by the concept. "What…do they do?" And then Th'ero is ASTOUNDING her. She stares at her weyrmate and her mouth is /actually/ hanging open for a moment. And then she's just grinning widely at him, looking pleased as punch. "Exactly," she agrees. Because she knew all that all along, she just didn't vocalize it. "And no, nothing out of sorts, and they did appreciate it. Especially the medicines. And I can't remember if he told me or not Inri, so might as well hazard a guess and you'll probably be right." For her part she swirls the wine and then takes a sip, brows lifting. "Faranth. Well. I'm going to need to buy more blades." Seems she likes this sweeter white! It's not overly sweet, but it's not terribly dry either. It's just right.

M'lo waits for Th'ero's grin and gives one back, about twice as bright. "Of course not," he tells the bronzerider. "But I figured you wanted to be spared the headache if possible." He gives up the glass willingly enough and eyes Inri, watching her smell and drink it. He lifts his own glass. "To diplomacy," he toasts. "Because you're going to need it when you explain to your fellow Weyrmates why it was, exactly, that you were allowed to drink wine when they are not." He smirks a litle bit, not envying her that little task. And the bar isn't exactly deserted. People have already noticed, because hey, the leadership always gets noticed, as well as their company, especially when it's a new goldrider. He has a sip of his wine, hums in appreciation, and then shrugs at Kimmila. "Do? I have no idea. Girl stuff. I think Maglinoth pressured Ely into it."

Th'ero looks a little flustered by Kimmila's reaction, not even aware of Inri's lack of hesitation as the weyrling goes through the motions of wine tasting and sampling. He's staring right back at his weyrmate, but more with a look that reads: what? and what are you doing? Stop that. But at the grin, his smile only stretches a little more to a faint one and quite crooked. So the Weyrleader does have a "bad" side? Or he just saw the logic in the situation. "It's all about control," he intones gravely, back to being serious now that the "fun" is done. "A little sip or a taste will do no damage to one already familiar enough with alcohol. Not that I'm implying you were a heavy drinker, Inri… but you do know your limits." Which that tiny sip won't even approach. If anything, it'd just be a not so nice reminder of all she's missing. "Guess away!" Th'ero offers, while similarily lifting his glass and taking a slow inhale of it before sampling. "Shards, the man wasn't jesting." The Weyrleader remarks, tilting the glass a little to admire the color before "sampling" a little more. "Exactly /which/ knife did you trade, Kimmila?" he drawls next to the bluerider, one brow quirked up before his gaze settles on M'lo and he snorts softly. "Why should she have to tell? It was hardly a drink." he counters with another faint smile. And if folks saw, they saw and Th'ero may have a bit of damage control. Nothing he's unfamiliar with.

"Wasn't going to," Inri agrees with Th'ero's take on why she should have to tell; it's not something she was about to volunteer! After that, she takes her guess as to the vintage; it's anyone's guess if she's right, though Inri has a strong track record for properly identifying wines. "It's a good wine, though — especially if you like sweet. I generally do. Probably good to eat with fish, too, if anyone was wondering about pairing."

Kimmila gives M'lo an odd look, though Th'ero's asking her question so she doesn't have to. She does blink back at the Weyrleader though, equally baffled by his return look. What-what? "Nah, it won't cause any issues. Shards, we could give him that little taste," nod at the kid, "and he'd be fine. So no harm done, and no I wouldn't tell either. Special occasion because I know you'd appreciate it. That black handled one I bought the last time we were in Nabol." Impulse buy that she's now put to better use! By turning it into booze. And she takes another sip with a contented sigh. Nodding at Inri, she has no way to confirm or discredit the guess, so she just shrugs. "Sounds good to me."
M'lo shrugs a bit at Th'ero's question to him and readjusts Eldann. "My lips are sealed," he promises. The boy keeps on snoozing. "I know next to nothing about wine," he comments to Inri. He has another sip. "Just that this is /really/ good. Thank you, Kimmila."

Th'ero takes another slow sip as Inri makes her guess and the Weyrleader nods his head in agreement, though he is by far no expert either. But if he can picture it or see some logic behind it, then it works in his mind. "For a sweeter wine, I actually enjoy it. Usually I find the sweet wines, especially the whites, to be overpowering." he murmurs and then wrinkles his nose. "Only fish?" he asks, almost disappointed in his tone. Why fish? Kimmila's remark earns the bluerider a snort as well and a slight shake of his head. "Huh. That was a good knife," he adds and yet seems approving of the trade. A good knife for an equally good wine! Who could complain? Taking a few more pieces of cheese, Th'ero leans back into his chair again and a little more comfortably this time. As M'lo gives his thanks to Kimmila, the bronzerider lifts his glass up in turn to the Weyrsecond's words. "My thanks as well," he says with just a hint of amusement. "Very kind of you to share with all of us." It's the truth, right? She could have had it all to herself!

"Not only fish; just the first thing I thought of. It's a white, so any sort of poultry is fine," Inri elaborates, because while they're talking about wine? She's good. That is something she can talk about forever; she's doing much better with the wine than she is with her riding straps, for instance. Despite being a good knitter, scrap sewing with leather? Not going too well. "But — yes. I really, sincerely do appreciate the sample. I hope to try it again in — approximately forever," she concludes, after thinking about the time spreading out in front of her for a moment there.

Kimmila could have, but drinking alone is lame as she finishes off the first small glass and refills it. "Help yourselves," she says, "except you," she adds with a crooked and amused smile for Inri. Sorry? "It was a good knife, but I never used it," she says, giving Th'ero a meaningful look. She has enough blades that she uses. Special ones. "I'm sure you could drink it with whatever you wanted. Like cheese and crackers." With a crooked grin, she leans back in her chair to savor her next sip. "Mmm. I might have to ask him if he's got another bottle, and just pay for it outright. Faranth knows my salary is high enough," she adds, giving Th'ero a pointed look. Half irritated, half amused? Looking over to M'lo, she seems about to ask him something but then changes her mind. Chuckling at Inri, she gives her a sympathetic smile. "Not as long as it feels right now." Is she being reassuring? "But it sucks. I found the sex restrictions particullary difficult." Awkward?

Th'ero seems a little more pleased by the option of poultry as a complimentary dish, smiling faintly in response to Inri's elaborated guess though it's hidden behind his glass as he drains the rest of the wine. Setting it back down carefully to the table, he waits until Kimmila is finished refilling her own glass before doing the same for himself. Sorry, Inri! Her meaningful look isn't lost, though the Weyrleader acknolowedges it only iwth the barest of glances in return and a brief (and genuine) smile before his features fall back into that slightly reserved mask he wears constantly. "I suppose you have a point there. Or you could just drink it on it's own and leave it at that. It's flavorful enough to support itself." Meaning the taste doesn't make one grimace or gag so bad you have to mask it with something. Th'ero only quirks a brow up again for Kimmila's second pointed look and likely this time it goes a little over his head. What? "I see no harm in that," he drawls with a thoughtful pause. "I'd likely wish to speak to him about his prices." And perhaps a little more beyond that, but the Weyrleader isn't quite going into details. He's just about to take another sip when Kimmila makes that awkward (to him) remark to Inri and can only glance sidelong at her in mild incredulousness. "It's not that hard," Th'ero adds after clearing his throat a few times, gaze darting to M'lo in the process. Hopefully his son is still asleep? Sipping his wine then (now that it's safe), he adds after swallowing. "Usually too busy in the later months to even have much to ah… think about. At least at the rate M'icha is running them, they won't have much free time for /anything/." he murmurs, pointedly focused on his wine glass.

If it's awkward, Inri doesn't comment it; nor does she seem fussed by the wine being spread around in front of her and not shared with her. Really, if there's a weyrling for the job of watching other people drink, it's probably her. "It likely has enough calories to count as a small snack. Beer is definitely a food," she reasserts, just in case anyone wasn't sure. Her take on the speed of lessons is apparently kept close to her chest, as she doesn't say much of anything except, after a moment, "Speaking of drinking." Not to malign the Weyrlingmaster or anything.

Kimmila just blinks at Th'ero for a moment, and she's lost track of their looks and what they all mean. So she just grins at him and takes another sip of her wine, patting his leg beneath the table. Trying to be soothing, honest. "It's delicious and I'm glad I made the trade," she concludes, slouching a bit in her chair and taking another small sip. "Mmm, perhaps with him running the booze show we might get a better reputation for wines. Though he didn't make this, so I wonder how good he is with /that/ aspect of it. Anyone can just find good wines…" She laughs at Inri, and nudges Th'ero. "See? Beer is a food. I'm sure your ale counts as dinner, easy." Then she's giving Inri a curious look. "Hmm? Speaking of drinking…what?"

"I guess we will find out shortly enough? Unless he will be overseeing others in the creation process. Regardless, it would be nice if Fort had a wine to actually contend against say… Benden." Th'ero muses and gives Kimmila the barest of side glances when her hand pats his leg beneath the table. He does not protest, but the Weyrleader does seem to relax a little again, some of the awkwardness gone from him now that the conversation has also switched tracks again. "Beer is a food," he drawls in agreement to Inri, giving the weyrling a look before he's grunting softly from Kimmila's nudge. That gesture is promptly returned, before the bronzerider feigns innocence and calmly goes back to enjoying his drink. "Mhm," he begins to comment, "The spiced red-black ale? I'd say it would, hands down. Best on it's own anyhow, as few can stomach it." That wasn't a challenge, right? Th'ero doesn't echo Kimmila's question to Inri, but his attention has definitely joined his weyrmate and he too adds a curious look to the Weyrling. You were saying?

Now everyone's looking at her for saying something Inri thought was common knowledge — she hesitates, again, with a slight lip chewing, before speaking up with, "Oh, just the Weyrlingmaster's always got a flask; figured it was because of the leg thing? Pain relief, like." She's well-versed in the behaviors of those who drink a lot, and notices things — and thought everyone else was just as aware, which is why she's taken aback by the questioning. Another brief moment where her eyes unfocus slightly, and Inri sighs. "And that's little miss stormcloud waking up and demanding an oiling." Groan. Stand up slowly.

Kimmila nods, "It would be nice," she agrees with a soft murmur. And then her hand returns above the table, before anyone (lest of all her!) gets any ideas. His nudge is met with a smirk, but Kimmila takes the high road and doesn't nudge him /back/. Otherwise it'd never end. Then she snorts. "Few can stomach it because it's vile." She's refusing the challenge! Blinking at Inri, the bluerider then chuckles. "Oh, well yeah, he does sip at his flask a bit. But," she glances at Th'ero, then back to Inri. But whatever question she was going to ask is bitten back when the Weyrling's lifemate is calling. "Then go."

Maybe that was the point? Th'ero doesn't seem surprised or concerned when Kimmila doesn't nudge him again in turn or make some other gesture to continue the little game, content to simply pretend it never happened and enjoy his wine in peace. "It's not /that/ bad," he counters, feigning a bit of disappointment and hurt in his tone. "That spiced whiskey concoction from the northern Emerald Isles… /that's/ vile." he drawls with a grimace, but ends it in a low and dry chuckle. It could very well be common knowledge concerning the Weyrlingmaster and that Th'ero is only letting Inri squirm a little just for the sake of curiosity and perhaps to see if the Weyrling actually knew or is simply assuming. Regardless, the Weyrleader looks amused by Inri's response though it's promptly hidden behind a frown and sobered expression. "M'icha does require it to ease the stiffness brought on by his injury, yes." Th'ero remarks without hesitation, "However, if… he does begin to abuse that beyond medicinal needs, you are within your right to speak up." he adds in a softer tone, giving Inri a long look and likely including Kimmila in with it too. Was that her question? "She's right, don't linger for formalities. Go, before she rouses up a fuss." Th'ero chimes in after his weyrmate, but with a bit of a smile to take the edge off his words.

"Thank you," Inri dashes off quickly, giving not really salutes so much as a quick head-nod — trying not to think about how much more of a fuss Kouzevelth could raise than her siblings when she wasn't immediately tended to. She was big. And whiplike. And /loud/. Pulling her hood back up over her head, Inri braves the literal storm out to the bowl to try to calm down the draconic one as much as possible and as quickly, too.

Kimmila watches Inri dash off, pushing some hair away from her face. "Gold," she mutters under her breath, shaking her head as she sips her wine. "I do not envy her that tempest." Turning to glance at her weyrmate, she gives him a crooked smile. "Enjoying the wine?"

Th'ero makes a low sound in his throat in agreement to Kimmila's comment. "Neither do I," he murmurs between sips of wine before he's finally lowering the glass. And with it, he actually relaxes into his seat, shoulders slumping a little and he noticeably leans a little closer to her. "It is a fantastic wine. A good trade." he remarks with a smile just as crooked. "It was kind of you to share it with M'lo as well and Inri. Though I do suppose he has a point… Someone ought to have seen what happened. Fools are likely to blow it out of proportion and we'll have Weyrlings whining of unfair treatment." He smirks a little at that notion before giving a sharp snort and shaking that assumption from his thoughts. "Or folks honestly don't care and we'll never hear a peep." That sounds more plausible. "And you, weyrmate? Enjoying your wine?"

Kimmila shrugs, noticing his relaxing and giving him a small smile. Reaching out once more, her hand rests on his thigh in an easy, comfortable way. Minimal PDA and hidden beneath the table sounds good to her. "A good trade. And I couldn't not offer it to them when they came over. And so what if they do?" She shrugs. "I'm not sharing my wine with everyone. And if they whine it's because she's a goldrider, I'll share some good rum cake with Harmony and that'll shut them all up. But they probably won't say anything because who really cares." Sip. "Mmm, I am, quite a bit more than I thought I would. Now I understand Velokraeth a bit more," she says, her grin crooked and it's hard to tell if she's kidding.

Th'ero doesn't seem to mind it, minimal or not and welcomes it all the same. Slowly his hand will come to rest over hers, his touch light and comforting as well. The Weyrleader is scanning the crowds now but with a detached interest with most of his focused turned to Kimmila's discussion. All the more reason why he favors this table and seating arrangement above all and likely one of the factors that allow him to relax as much in such a crowded place as Shenanigan's. "Mhm, I know weyrmate. I don't think we did any wrong tonight and most weyrfolk likely have enough sense to agree. It's not like she had half a glass or even a quarter. A sip is a sip. And rum cakes are likely /not/ harmful at all. Feel free to share all you wish with Harmony and the others. Let them think they're getting a very special treat." he muses, though he figures most of the Weyrlings (especially ex-bakers!) would know better. And it is hard to tell if she's kidding and Th'ero is clearly baffled by the sidelong look he gives her. "Do you now?" he drawls, trying to pry a little more from her without looking entirely oblivious.

Kimmila nods, "Yes, those…the tone of his mind, the wine and all." Then, abruptly, the bluerider is moving. "Come, wingmate," she murmurs, corking the bottle and pulling it with her as she rises. "Let's go enjoy the rest of this somewhere we can watch the weather." Because that's a lovely thing, and the bluerider is growing restless in the tunnels and confines of the stone encased weyr. And with one look to make sure he's following, she weaves her way through the crowd and slips outside once more.

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.