Logs:The Cure For Insomnia
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| RL Date: 15 March, 2013 |
| Who: Nicky, Mave |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: During late night preparations just before the Hatching, Mave comes upon a sleepless Nicky. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 4, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. |
| Mentions: Wakizian/Mentions, Sabella/Mentions |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
The faint scuff-scuffle of feet -- skin on stone; his company is barefoot. Time's ticked away, and even the most idle noises of the night have mostly faded, leaving Mave's padding entrance like a drumbeat. In she wanders, arms stretched above her head in a wild yawn, complemented by the hard tilt of her head she uses to try and crack the arc of her neck. She's shed of day apparel in the quiet of the evening, her torso covered in an overly large, heavily padded tunic that sags on her everywhere, the sleeves falling down to her shoulders and the hem lifting for a flash of belly as she reaches up. Pale, and lightly freckled, like the scrawny legs exposed by short shorts, too soft and lifeless to be anything but pants meant to sleep in. Her hair's tied up in a fat, messy bun that she ruffles on her arms' way down. Either Nicky's a really light sleeper as well as being a really bad sleeper, or he simply wasn't snoozing at all - just resting his eyes, perhaps. Whichever the case may be, he lifts his head at the sound of someone approaching, blinking blearily a few times before he's able to make out who it is. And, of course, it would happen to be the one girl he's been somewhat avoiding for the past few days. Unable to make a run for it without being overly obvious, Nicky gently clears his throat. "H-hi, Mave." Unaware of the predicament she's caused, Mave just cracks an idle eye open amidst the yawn, giving Nicky a front-room view to her open mouth. Arms, jaw, and neck all settle within instants of each other, leaving a lazy-limbed little girl strolling towards NIcky's chair. "Hatching jitters?" She queries, ending up moving right past him to link a finger into the klah pot to tip it and peer inside for its measure of liquid. Her head turns across her shoulder to look back at him, "There's a, uh," her hand whisks towards the entrance, "pod of y'alls out playing card games for the nerves in the living cavern, ya like." That wide-open mouth is something of surprising interest to Nicky, and he can't help but stare - until he thinks she might see him doing so, and then he drops his gaze to look shyly down, somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. "N-not hatching jitters," he says softly, shaking his head. "Um... m-more like Mave jitters." There's everything apologetic in his gaze as he looks back up, biting down on his lip. "C-can we talk?" He unfolds his long legs from under him, swivelling about in the chair so he's got his feet planted firmly on the floor, and his elbows resting on his thighs. It's a casual sort of pose, and yet he seems tensed like an animal ready to flee, fighting the flight urge. Her idly tilting head-- yeah, okay, sure-- over jitters or not contorts when she's put to blame. Bidden to talk, Mave twists a foot towards him, head planting against her shoulder before she straightens then obliges with a full turn, running her back and butt right up to the serving table so she can rest against it, hands clutching its edge. "Oh, fiddle de fuck," she bemoans, half teasing with a lacing of patient affection, and half an air of utter exasperation. "What did I do, not do, say, forget to say, mess up, miss out on this time?" A kind of wry self-deprecation tries to lift some of the blame from Nicky, like the hand she lays partially on the top of his knee, fingers touching down then lifting, so that just her fingertips are gently brushing when she says, "But sure. We're talking." "N-nothing, Mave, you d-didn't do anything." Nicky frowns down into his klah mug, then brushes his fingers through his hair, ruffling up his curls so they're even messier than they would normally be. It's a sign of frustration, perhaps - or maybe just that he doesn't know what to do next. "Um... I s-spoke to Waki." Swallow, peep up at Mave, look back down again. "He said h-he kissed you, too." Swallow again, but this time he doesn't look up; his eyes are firmly fixed on the rim of his klah mug. "And, um, I-I wanted to ap-pologise t-to you. I-in case I h-hurt your f-feelings or something, b-by kissing you." "You sure you weren't born in the caverns, too?" She jests, of the boys' continual gossiping, though it's not without a note of frustration. Rolling it off her shoulders-- blades cracking helpfully too-- she wraps her hands up within the excess baggage of her shirt. "Well... apology accepted, I guess." Seems like the polite thing, though she raises one recently coiled hand to rub a finger along the top of her nose, squinting slightly down at him. "We blundered into kissing because we were talking about kissing. Then I kissed you more." Her hand juts out at him then back to her hip. "It was cute, it was nice. You seemed satisfied. Am I missing the part where my feelings somehow got dropped on the floor?" Nicky smiles crookedly, looking up at Mave and smiling at her as she speaks."I-it was nice. Um... I liked the m-more part." His admission has him blushing, and he half-hides his face by propping his chin in his palm so that his fingers can cover his mouth, and cheek. "There's, um, l-little point in s-saying this now, but I want you to know, um, anyway... j-just in case." He clears his throat again, then takes a sip of klah to be sure he can really talk. "I k-kissed you b-because I do l-like you. Um... a-and it was nice. M-maybe, um..." Nicky licks his lips, which suddenly feel overly dry with all the confessions. "A-after the hatching, um, d-depending on what h-happens, I was wondering i-if you might, um, like to k-kiss again." Mave's bare feet curl and dig into the stone, heels twisting absently in and out, to fit the bout of silence gripping her. A careful breath in then out; she keeps fighting down a reflexive smile, but manages to look serious enough as she drops, crouching down to Nicky's chair level, and promptly ruining her only chance at ever being above him. "It's nice to know." She leads with, a calm, but pleasant, affirmation. "But... you just met me." Contrarily, her hand lifts to tug at one of his curls, her lip tenuously caught by teeth as it springs into place. "I just met you." Whilst eyeballing his hair. With a soft clearing of her throat, she resets her gaze on his face. Focus. "I'd certainly like to kiss again... but we'll just have to see if it's with you." An overly squinted grading expression is purposefully overdone to hopefully assure him that she's being silly -- but sincere. "I mean," and a soft psh comes into her voice, clearly dry, "'Specially if I'm just some baby dragon's back-up... Second place!" "O-oh." Nicky goes practically cross-eyed in his attempt to watch her hand with his curl, while a rosy blush creeps up his cheeks. He does seem a little disappointed at the let-down, but he manages a little grin at the last comment. "Y-you make a l-lot of sense, Mave." Now it's his turn to reach out to her, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear before quickly retrieving his hand, curling fingers around his nearly-empty mug. "There's, um, a l-lot that could happen in the next s-seven, or h-however long there is until the e-eggs hatch. Um..." His fingers flex around the ceramic in their grasp, and he shrugs his shoulders softly. "Wh-whatever happens, I'd like to, um, g-get to know you b-better. Whether there's, um, k-kissing involved or not." "Really?" Skepticism trends her eyes to the side as Mave attempts to backtrack and remember what it was she only just said. But as he keeps talking, she fades into the present-- easily done as the brush of her hair causes one cheek to round out sheepishly and turn a personal color. Her more friendly grin evens out the blush, as she recovers a general sense of practicality. "Oh, it'll be much sooner than that," the girl offers with the authority of a weyrbrat, "Why do you think half the Weyr was up till now? And why I'm up? That buzz you feel," hands shake on either side of her head, "is constant preparation. Really," she rocks back onto her heels, slapping her hands on her knees, and shrugging with a soft grimace of suggested regret, "You probably should've skipped the talkin' and jumped straight into my arms, second I walked in here, considerin' how much not longer you likely have to get around to it." Did Nicky really just miss out on an opportunity like that? The teen looks confused, and yet thoughtful, and hesitant too. He rubs his fingers over his chin and the light dusting of stubble that's grown there since morning, and then he huffs out a long, hard breath. "If I-I'd thought you'd, um, e-entertain me doing that, I, um... I might've d-done it." But, he clearly wasn't sure what the reaction would've been, and so he didn't do it. And now he's regretting not even thinking that way to have considered doing it. Complicated! "You c-could, um, c-come sit with me h-here?" He pats the arm of his chair, hopefully. "Likely, I woulda decked you." Honesty is the best policy, as Mave examines her knuckles with a squint, then lowers the hand-- then raises the hand to remember to push at her falling hair; useless bun. "But!" A quick pointer finger and she bounces lightly on her heels in her hurry to amend, "Before I figured out it was you." She settles. "Then I'd-- " actually, as her face washes out of all expression, eyebrows beginning to take on a vague dip, it seems that she's unsure just what. After a second, she clears her throat, rising up onto her feet, only to sling one leg obediently over the arm of Nicky's chair. It has her sitting, tentatively, on the thin perch-- luckily, she's a scrawny butt to go with the rest of her-- her leg out along the curve next to him, a few freckles dotting her, never as much as her cheeks. Her other leg carefully crosses it, twining at the ankles to balance her. "I-I'm glad I didn't, then," Nicky grins, resettling himself comfortably - and carefully, so as not to displace Mave - so that he can see his chair-sharer. "Wh-what're the odds like n-now? Wh-who are the favourites?" He brings his mug up to his lips, sips slowly, and peers over the top at her. "I-I might, um, h-have another little... f-flutter. Waki's a-angry at me again, but, um, I want to put m-more on him g-getting a dragon." "Sounds like an interesting way to get back at him," dryly muses Mave, writhing lightly to gain a better vantage on the chair. As the mug lifts, getting some of Nicky's lanky arms out of the way, she naturally as you please slides her leg right over him, crossing his at an angle, her foot dangling somewhere over his knee. "It's not a proper day unless Wakizian's mad at someone, is it? No, don't answer that. I won't pry. I don't." She's firm, holding out a palm to him, her fingers in that once again narrow place between them, somewhere over both their limbs. "I-it's over n-nothing new, anyway." Shrugging, Nicky catches hold of Mave's hand, gives it a gentle squeeze, then loosens his grip for her to pull out of it. "I d-don't have marks on me now." Assuming that's what she was asking for! He relaxes against the back of the chair, leaning his head against the padding and smiling softly at Mave. "I t-told that new c-candidate, S-Sabella - have you met her? - th-that he wears a dress. A-and that I'm stronger than h-he is." The shoulder not pressed against the chair is shrugged, gently. "And, um, it m-may have something to do with something e-else I did, wh-which isn't important." She doesn't, pull out, but winds her fingers idly against his longer ones, hardly seeming to know what she's doing. It's late, after all, and sitting down has driven some of the hour of the night home. A little shake of her head answers over the unfamiliar name. She's stifling a yawn around her next words, "Sounds..." Nope, the yawn comes out anyway. Mouth open, and all. "Sounds true..." she murmurs when her jaw is her own again, bringing a hand up to block her mouth too late-- a hand that was, last anyone checked, entwined with Nicky's. "And..." her head shaking out, hair starting to flutter even further from her bun, she tilts it to rest against the top of the chair, crooked and neck stretched. "Not important." Bare toes wiggle and she eyes them as if they were not her own. Their hands are still entwined when Mave raises them to her mouth, and Nicky doesn't do anything to stop it. He does blush, but then again, when doesn't he? Sleepy-Mave is a cute creature, and he can't help but smile affectionately at her as she rests her head. "Um... y-you could, um, move d-down here with me, if you like?" There's a Mave-sized space that he can make bigger, between his hip, thigh and the chair corner. "I-in case you fall, i-if you, um, f-fall asleep?" He looks a little flustered at having asked, but words can't be taken back once spoken! "I, um, d-do need a k-klah refill first, though..." "There's... another chair right over there." Not that Mave's rushing to fill the seat her wriggling toes point out across from them. "Klah's low over there," she adds, absently switching priorities while her leg bounces softly against his-- getting up, getting down; indecisive, or neither. "I should... fill it-- I'm supposed to be filling things." Preparation, and all. It takes several more useless seconds before she lazily swings her leg up, crossing it over her other, and freeing him from potentially having to throw her off to the floor just for a mug of klah. "I-I'd like you to s-stay on this one, i-if you want to." Nicky must have gotten a shot of bravery somewhere, for having the guts to talk in such a way. When she moves to let him out, he slips away to go and get a refill, grabbing a couple of pastries from what few are left to bring them back to the chair... only to find that it's been taken over. "O-oh." Pausing, he looks at the other chair that was pointed out just before he got up, and thinks about it for a moment... before turning back to look at Mave. He holds out a pastry for her, then tilts his head to the side in a gesture for her to move over. "C-can I have my, um s-seat?" Taken over indeed. With him absent, Mave's let herself slide right off the chair arm in a boneless flop, soaking right into the warmth he left behind. One leg splayed out and one half-tucked, she's gracelessly trapped between curling up and spreading out when Nicky comes to confront her. Half-lidded eyes stare challengingly up at him. "You said I should stay on this one." Lazy as lazy can be-- she drops her jaw to open her mouth, from all the way down on the chair, towards the pastry offered. When it doesn't immediately spirit into her gaping bite, or she has a second to rethink her life, she yawn-closes her mouth shut and lifts an arm to reach for the treat instead. The little scoot she performs lies questionably between making room-- not enough-- and just something she needs to do to try and get the pastry to her fingertips. Oh, but that little scoot provides Nicky with an opportunity that he decides to seize and run with; he holds the pastry up and above her hands, moving to hold both down with his other hand - which is now pastry and klah-free, since they've been set on a sidetable. And with her hands held gently but firmly, Nicky can pop the pastry right into Mave's mouth, using that distraction to bend down, scoop her up, and then settle down into the chair with her almost on his lap - more to the side, really. Squished into the corner of the chair. Looking pleased with himself, Nicky then leans down to grab his mug and his pastry. "I m-meant you can sit here i-if I'm here, too." "Mmmmmmmm---- fffffmmm!" Complaint, surprise, insistence: whatever the noise, it's absorbed into the pastry as Mave's inconsequential weight is used efficiently against her. Finding herself in Nicky's lap-- almost-- she writhes to gain suitable control over her bearings to become comfortable, and to prove that this was her choice. Also, to get a hand up to rip the pastry out of her mouth. "Well, now you're specific," she berates, lacking conviction. Getting an elbow up on the chair arm, she hefts, and throws a leg across his knee and then kind of sidles it down towards the floor, and-- but her butt is well sunk into the chair, and getting off proves a larger difficulty than she cares to proceed with. Relaxing in defeat, she puffs out a breath that sends loosened hair flying off of her forehead. Bite of pastry; chew, chew, chew. "Nicky..." such a pause after his name that it might initially seem like she's forgotten her point, till she starts up, slowly, blandly in her tired, "Why are you up if it's not jitters?" Nicky is quite comfortable with the new arrangement, even with the squirming that it takes for Mave to be equally so. He adjusts to her new position, looping his pastry-bearing arm around her shoulders - loosely, though, not anything more than that simply being the more comfortable position for him, even though it means his sweet treat is left dangling where he can't reach it. Still, the klah is accessible, and that's most important to him. "I d-don't sleep very well," he admits with a gentle shrug of one shoulder. "Um... m-most nights I've been in here. S-sometimes I bump into p-people in the caverns, b-but mostly, um, yeah. I j-just don't sleep very well." "Maybe you should stop drinking klah," observes Mave matter-of-factly around a mouthful of pastry. Chew, chew, until she's stuffed it all into one cheek and is licking at her fingers. "Like, how are you up during the day? How do you live?" To a girl yawning every minute, these are legitimate questions, in need of scientific response. "A dragon is gonna kick your ass, yessir." Her jaw moves purposelessly; she has no pastry. In her periphery, sweetness and dough appear, hovering by her shoulder. Sidling her butt down, and turning her head against her shoulder, she snaps for a bite of his pastry, instead. No klah? Nicky's eyes go wide at the thought. "Um, klah helps me s-sleep," he says softly, looking longingly down into the mug he's holding. "A-ask Bones. He feels the same." A curl is brushed from out of his eyes, and he shrugs. "I do sleep, just, um, n-not as much as some people? Wh-why would a dragon kick my... um... b-butt?" He's obliging with his pastry, curling his arm around to bring it closer to her. It's not quite at her lips so she'll have to reach, but it's not quite as far as before. Going for it, she catches pastry in her teeth, gnawing down for a bit, so that her cheeks are full of sugar as she spies up at him, munching and staring. "O-Oh," A hand slips up, fingers going under the bottom of his mug of klah, "Then drink. Drink more." And she pushes steadily upwards with overly blunt encouragement. "Don't you know," her voice evening out from the slight panic of correction to smooth and factual, "that dragon babies keep you up all stupid hours till you've no sleep at all? I've seen enough weyrlings with their faces planted in their lunch stew." This time, she loops an arm around to rip off another piece of his--- her, his, whatever-- pastry; possibly, because she then slides her finger above the klah mug she was just forcing on him to nudge the pastry to his lips. "Eat, too." Healthy things. "Could be any time," she admonishes him, "Get in what you can now what you can't later." Nicky drinks when he's bid, and even eats, too, taking a delicate bite of the pastry. He looks worried about the dragon babies comment, a frown furrowing his brow. "I know n-nothing about dragons," he admits, shrugging his shoulders and leaning towards the pastry for another bite. "They'll t-teach me, right?" There's concern in his brown eyes as he looks to Mave, the girl who knows far more than him, in the hopes that she's got some encouragement for him. "If th-they, um, k-keep me awake, it'll be ok. I d-don't sleep anyway, right?" "They'll exhaust you till you do." Mave's not full of soft reassurances, plowing ahead, instead, through calm, almost cheerful, fact, "Then keep you up anyway. And then you gotta go to lessons so as to learn how to fuck everything else up." Shoulders rise in a shrug; to her, no big deal. "You'll learn," is a sudden flash of confidence, no less matter-of-fact than the rest. She simply, and truly, has decided: and that's the authoritative word on the matter. "Suppose it's too late for you to decide that candidacy might be a good moment to try and start knowing things about dragons," half-jest, and half-well, not. Idle adjustments move her about against the chair, against him. She rips him off another part of pastry but then ends up playing with it between them, her shoulder nudging against his in a slight lean. "How do y'want to spend your possible last moments as a candidate?" "Candidacy's been f-full of, um, other things." Like girls, for one. Nicky barely knew they existed before. "Chores, and... chores, mainly." There's no point getting into something contentious now! He leans, open-mouthed, after the pastry, pouting when he can't get hold of it - and in grumpiness, he bumps his nose off Mave's cheek. "My l-last few moments as a candidate? Hrm." Thoughtful silence for a moment, and then he grins crookedly, leaning in to nose-bump her again. "R-right here. Like this." A beat. "B-but with more pastries." "You said chores twice." Whilst pulling ignorantly at the pastry she's plum forgotten to give him. The snap of his jaw precedes the bump of her cheek, turning her slightly in at attention when he grazes her. Eyes half-lidded as she stares down, she blinks away a fluster as much attributed to her sleepiness. Waiting for his answer could almost mean dozing off, but she stays upright, off in her own thoughts before his nose cues her back in. She startles, despite the seeming obviousness of his closeness. A low hum occupies her throat and comes out as, "'Fla-- " a quick one note, almost sing-song, as she jumps her pastry-holding fingers up towards his face, hitting him with a couple of flat fingertips on the forehead, "tte-- " and then one the nose, "ry." Will get you pastry? Apparently that's the new phrase, when her fingers-- pastry, more importantly-- find his lips. A mouthful of pastry means Nicky can't answer straight away, so he chews and swallows as quickly as he can. There's a second where he chokes a little as a loose flake of the sweet sticks in his throat, but it's nothing a sip of klah can't fix. It's kind of embarrassing, though, and he bites down on his blushing smile as he looks down into the space between them, staring at nothing. "I only told the t-truth," he murmurs, settling his mug down on a side table and leaning in towards Mave, so he can rest his cheek against her hair. He yawns there, curling his arms around her in a loose hug - as if she were a pillow to be plumped up. "It's nice h-here. Y-you're warm." And he's cosy enough to be sleepy, it would seem. Tired and malleable, Mave, and her dying hairstyle, make a reasonable pillow, only shifting under him every once in a while. "Then..." she murmurs, "You are stealing it all from me." Her legs, and especially her bare toes, might not be gleaning quite as much warmth, and she seeks to cross them again, trapping heat between. The far hand spreads over her thigh, too, splaying fingers to rub once or twice some friction and comfort into the pale skin. A shift scoots her butt into him and, yawning indelicately, she tilts her head further, spreading her hair even more against his cheek. It's all so practical, her movements, as if he were, too, a particularly familiar pillow. When she seems most comfortable, she decides drowsily, "I... like the truth." "Aren't you warm enough?" Nicky seems concerned, though only in his tone since he barely moves to address the issue, other than to reach blindly for the hem of Mave's nightshirt to tug it down further over her legs, as far as it'll go. And, he didn't stutter, either! When she finishes moving about to get comfortable, he nestles his cheek against her hair again, then breathes out a long, soft breath. "I like it too," he murmurs, giving her a little squeeze. Maybe this is what the insomniac needs to sleep - warm cuddles in a chair? Because Nicky certainly seems to be headed that way. He murmurs happily, reaching out to draw Mave's legs in closer - a belated reaction to her not being warm enough, perhaps? "Your hair tickles, M-Mave." This is not conducive to Mave's working environment. Neither does the soft laziness of her face seem to care, register her duties; for this moment, the sprightly hard-working girl just sits, hands burrowing into the extra folds of her oversized tunic as Nicky's pulled it out. Everything goes dark. No-- she's just closed her eyes without realizing and she fights them open, questions why, and lets them drift down again. Half-aware, she murmurs absently and low, "Your hair tickles," as if retorting to some kind of insult. She's clearly gone off the other side of keeping track of what's happening. "I have your h-hair on my nose, though." Nicky protests quietly, and in amusement, too. He blows gently at the hair that's pressed up against his face, then lifts his head and raises his hand to smooth it all down, stroking it back towards the failing bun. When he's done with that he presses his cheek back against it, making a content little sound. "Better," a word which melts into a yawn, which has him stiffening up in that way only really good yawns can trigger. "Your hair is s-soft, though. I like it." And to prove as much, he strokes his cheek along it. His next yawn is even bigger, followed by more settling-in, as if he's ready to spend the rest of the night right there. "Sounds... like a problem... with you." Hair, something something, soft, something. Mave mutters a couple of disjointed words for a very poor facade of still functioning in the conversation, but it takes very little to quiet her. His yawn triggers a companion one in her, and when that closes her eyes, they stay there. She stays there. Not much longer before breaths deepen and slow, against the occasional sniff and snort of sleep. Not a particularly delicate sleeper, Mave, who wrestles dreamily with her legs in the night and bunches his shirt up to guard against her bony shoulder pillow, heedless of that he's trying to wear it. It might be the case that Nicky actually falls asleep before Mave; or it might not. He's got his eyes closed as long as she does, and is equally as still if not more so, with his own breathing deepening to that which indicates slumber. Perhaps he's been in need of a good night's sleep, as her squirming doesn't disturb him where normally it would, given his light sleeping habit. In fact, he's so far under that even when the dragons start their humming and the corridors fill with eager folk, he doesn't wake up. It's not yet light when the chorus of dragons take up their song: first just a handful of hums, and then steadily more until it's every dragon (or close enough to), voices of all timbres and in every range. It's audible even deep within the bowels of the Weyr, where sound bounces off one stone wall to another, ever increasing in intensity. For those who have never heard such a thing, perhaps it's terrifying-- but for everyone else, it can mean only one thing: it's time. Vibrations thrumming through the chair and up to Mave stir her, in turn. Mumbling, she rolls a little tighter against Nicky, resistant, except that her eyes are already blinking open; footsteps in the hall like a beckon that she doesn't remember once she's pulled to consciousness. Blinking, she plants an ignorant hand on Nicky, forgetting where she is and that he's not a pillow, and pushes hard up to sit, legs fumbling around, as she looks about, vaguely disoriented, hair a distraught halo. Eyes stare at the walls that seem to tremble with-- ... Abruptly, her hands have curled into Nicky's shirt, her second act after nearly scrambling straight off of him is to shake the candidate hard. Candidate. "Nicky!" She hisses, "You're not in the barracks!" Then, she's already sliding down. Nicky's first instinct when Mave starts to squirm is to hold tighter, but it gets to the point where he has to wake up. The hand to the face helps bring him out of sleep and he squints, blearily, at Mave until the shaking knocks some sense into him. "Wh-what?" Oh, he heard alright - he's just having trouble believing it's really happening. "The eggs?" And then he's on his feet too, swaying a little as he's hit with a rush of lightheadedness. After blinking a few times he gets his stability back, then reaches for Mave, dragging her into a tight, tight hug. "W-wish me luck?" And whether she's willing or not, he leans down to steal a kiss, pressing his lips to hers briefly before he turns to leave, sprinting along the tunnels to the 'quarters. Klah filling, dress gathering, hair doing-- arms, lips! Lips mashed into his, while Mave's hands lock frozen, in the air, beside his shoulders. Rushed upward onto her toes by his grab, she hovers there when he's gone, dropping hard onto her heels. "Th-- " twisting seconds late as he gets across the room, "Th-- " and to the door, and-- "That was just for luck!" She bellows warningly after him, catching the attention of a worker scurrying by for last second check-ups. Mave flashes her a dirty, scolding look and a psssh of dismissal and the woman disappears, leaving Mave to raise her hands up into her disastrous hair to puff out a breath and-- "Oh... fuck-anuttermunch... dress!" And she's sprinting out as fast. |
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