Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms.
Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.
Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outsde each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves.
It's not often that H'kon will be here; the brownrider lives fairly minimally, and tends toward sturdy things that don't often need replacing. It's strange enough to have him here, then; stranger still that he's making his way toward a larger section of the storage caverns, where furniture - or, more properly, bits and pieces of wood that can be used for the repair of furniture - can be found. Short fingers of his left hand clamp tightly around what must be the end of a leg of a chair or table. Short fingers of his right hand, around the upper part that should attach to said chair or table. Both clunk when he gets to his destination and sets them down on the shelf, freeing his hands for the pending search in dim light.
Barnabas had already worked himself through just about every shelf in the stores, keeping himself occupied during a brief self-imposed exile of Azaylia's weyr. She needed her alone time at least occasionally, after all. It's as he lifts a particular hefty table leg and swings it around himself like a child brandishing a mock club that he notices a familiar face. At least somewhat familiar. "Hey, it's you!" Its in that moment he realizes that he's making a bit of a fool of himself, even compared to his normal standards of foolery, and his smile fades briefly. "Hehe, whoops!" The table leg is tossed back onto the shelf with a wooden clunk, and he jogs his way over towards H'kon. "You remember me, right?"
Where some might mock a (large) grown man for swinging a club around like some weyrbrat, H'kon's reaction to the motion in his periphery is to squint - and then scowl, looking all manner of disapproving. And Eagle-ish. The clunk of -that- leg brings a faint wince from the brownrider, more a form of censure, really, than a reaction to the noise, though surely that's there as well. "I believe so," is far from relaxed. A grip that had tensed about the edge of a box relaxes, and H'kon pulls it forward, but doesn't look in. "You clearly remember me," isn't friendly, but less not at least.
Memories are sparked quickly at the scowl, instantly putting H'kon's name back in Bones head. "Yeah, you were the dude tryin' to keep me away from Zee! Err, Azaylia!" In present company, the pet name might go unrecognized. "H'kon right? Bones. Don't think we ever really MET met, know what I mean?" He stretches out a hand to be shaken as he continues. "Barely seen you around at all, you livin' in a cave or something?" Grin grows at the obvious joke.
The weight of social mores hangs heavy over H'kon, who grudgingly pauses, reaching out to take the offered hand, a firm grip that is kept carefully from becoming a challenge. And that almost-glint in green eyes? Probably just annoyance. "Right," is a bit slow in coming. And that dealt with, he does indeed turn to the box, tilting it just a bit, and peering in. "There are a great many duties dragonriders must see to." And he shakes the box a little to try shift the legs in it.
H'kon's hand is given a hearty up-and-down shake, the motion speaking to the personality of the one giving it: just enough over the top to be annoying. "Right right, responsibilities. I think I heard'a those. Ha!" He steps closer as H'kon turns to the box, and peers over his shoulder to examine its contents. "Responsibilities like... fixin' your furniture? Shit, life of a dragon rider is tougher'n I thought. Cant you get some underling to do that for you? Hehe!"
"I should hope you've more than heard, if you've continued staying at the Weyr and consuming or using its goods and hospitality." When his hand is his own again, H'kon plunges it quite purposefully after a leg. The box is set back, the leg brought toward the two pieces of broken furniture he's brought with him. "I prefer to deal with my own things when the opportunity is there." He hefts the new(ish) leg, and spares a look over to Bones.
A hearty laugh fills the otherwise quiet room at H'kon's chiding tone, and with it comes a hand giving a playful slap to the back of the brownrider. "Relax man, you sound like my dad!" Bones leans back against the shelf, elbows perched up to support some of his weight against the horizontal surface. "Well, not MY dad. Aint ever met that asshole. Y'get it though. Somebody's dad. Old."
H'kon's shoulders tense up for the slap to his back, fist tightening around that table leg. He looks away from Bones and back to the piece of furniture, and places it near the broken pieces on the shelf. These, next, he lines up together as best he can, inspecting the reconstituted leg in comparison. "That explains quite a bit," comes after some reflection on the bigger man's sharing. There's a pause in which he's mostly pretending to look at the task at hand, and then, it's back to Bones. "What do you do here, then?"
The grin only grows bigger at the opportunity to make another joke, H'kon being the perfect straight man to play off of. "What do I do? I'm the official merrymaker! I spread cheer! Ha!" He lifts himself from his leaning position and grabs a random hunk of wood from a nearby shelf. The spoke to a smallish wagon wheel perhaps? He flips it end over end, tossing it in the air only to catch it on its opposite side. He repeats this again and again in a fidgeting fashion. "And lemme tell you, thats real hard work around here." A sideways glance and a smile is sent H'kon's way as he keeps flipping the wood.
H'kon is a pro at dealing with wisecrackers - of various abilities. There's the faintest roll of his eyes, and he shakes his head as he looks back toward the leg. "Pity you seem to have so little skill in it," is deadpan serious. The rider discards the intact leg, back into its box, and pushing that box back on the shelf. A step sideways, and he pulls a fresh box from the next shelf down. "You might think of making a real contribution. Supplies are the more scarce in an interval for the Weyr on its own. Best not to have a pointless drain on them. Have you any skills?"
That flipping stick is snatched in mid-air, and Bones has to turn to look straight at H'kon at the comment about his skill as a bringer of joy. "Was that a joke? Did you just make fun of me?" Theres a long pause and a furrow of thick cro-magnon brow as he scans the brownriders face, and then a sudden eruption as he playfully shoves at H'kon's shoulder. The smile is back. "Hahaha, good one! See? Don't it feel good to blow off a little steam, not keep it wrapped all tight in your chest?" He returns to flipping, and continues on in answering. "Yeah. I'm a sailor. Navigatin' by stars. Knots and ropes. Swimmin', cursin', fightin', fuckin'. The stereotypes are all true. Least where I'm from." As he flips he reaches to the shelf, and grabs two more of the mystery wooden rods, adding them to his rotation as he begins to cycle them from hand, always keeping one in the air. "Also, I can juggle." Spoken with an uncharacteristic flat tone as he concentrates on doing just that. "Li'l rusty."
H'kon's shoulder doesn't get shoved without a snap-back roll to try and dislodge that hand. A heavy sigh comes after that, and he sets to searching through the next box. "There's little need of your practical skills here then. Though I'm certain you've found opportunity for the others." This time, looking involves more digging, and soon enough he comes up with another leg, this one markedly thicker than the (two halves of the) one he's brought in. "There's no shame in simple, menial or mechanical labour. That is always needed."
The flying twigs are caught and collected in one hand, then set back to where they came from on the shelf. "And what makes you think I got a problem worryin' about shame? Haha!" He walks over to look briefly into the box that H'kon had bypassed before moving to his more current one, then lifts his gaze to the brownrider himself. "Alright, how about I fix your furniture? That simple, menial, and mechanical enough?"
"But I don't want you fixing my furniture," H'kon states flat out. "But there are plenty of repairs in the common areas of the Weyr. I can mention to the headwoman that you're in need of work." As determined by the brownrider. His free hand moves for a piece of the broken leg, and he turns a little to hold both old and new legs up to what light there is coming from the nearest glowbasket. He considers the two bits of wood in silence for a moment; then, "Do you find it helpful to laugh after everything you've said? Or can you simply not help yourself?"
"Ohhhh I get it." Bones tone is filled with mock hurt. "Menial labour is always needed, but sometimes ain't wanted. Ain't that a finicky field'a work then?" This time he didnt laugh, though hes quick fill in the gap where it would have been. "Laughin' lets people know I ain't serious. Otherwise they tend to to think Im slow, crazy, or both." Now he can't help but chuckle. "Plus? Im hilarious! Ha!"
"I've no need for you to work for me, either. You do the Weyr as a whole very little benefit by fixing my table; if you deal with a rickety bench in the caverns, well then. And if you've no desire to lend a hand to the community you've come to, perhaps best to move on." This isn't said without a serious furrowed brow directed to the bigger man. "Is that what they might think," is mostly under his breath, as H'kon reaches to gather up that third bit of wood, apparently settled on a leg. His elbow pushes the box back into place.
Bones rolls his eyes openly at H'kon, but still smiles throughout the entirety of the brief lecture on the importance of carrying his weight. "There you go, bein' dad again. Damn, just when I thought we were makin' progress on you! Ha!" The box that H'kon slid into place doesn't stay there for long, the big man reached to tug it free and peer inside, seeing what other odd treasures it might hold. What a surprise, wood. He takes three of the same wooden legs that H'kon chose, and then slides the box back into place with a heavy thunking sound. "Relax, I can handle myself." And with that promise, he begins juggling again, eyes aimed up to watch the wooden pieces slip past each other in the air. "Totally forgot I could even do this!"
H'kon arranges those legs and bits beneath one arm, the other arm serving only as a steadying touch. Well, up until he steps to the side, not without giving that bigger man a hand to the shoulder, landing with a smack, and not staying there long, what with the juggling. "Please don't be mistaken; it's hardly you I've devoted my life to." The smile that comes looks a little painful. "See to it you contribute something if you mean to stay."
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