View source for Logs:Spy Games

{{Log
|involves=High Reaches Weyr
|type=Log
| who = Ceawlin, K'del
| where = Men's Latrines, High Reaches Weyr
| what = K'del fails as a spy, and is possibly a pervert. Ceawlin is a know-it-all. 
|day=8
|month=13
|turn=30
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| when = Day 8, Month 13, Turn 30
| gamedate = 2013.02.08
| quote = "You think a person'd come ''here'' for a-- that's disgusting."
| weather = 
| categories = Divided Leadership
| mentions = 
| ooc = 
| icons = ceawlin.jpg, k'del awkward.jpg
| log = Men's Latrines, High Reaches Weyr

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This is a room just of latrines where boys go. Girls never go in here, not even to clean. There are some private stalls specifically for other duties, but mostly there is a long row of standing pee stalls.

----

There are nicer latrines, elsewhere in the Weyr; better maintained ones, definitely. Sometimes, though, a person is caught off guard on the wrong side of the Weyr, and… a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. No doubt that's why K'del is presently standing in front of the urinal, doing his business, with his gaze fastened steadily on the blank wall (no mirrors, here!) in front of him. He's alone, at least; the one good thing about this particular room is that people generally tend to avoid it. When they can. 

A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do... Ceawlin's much in the same boat as K'del, or seemingly so anyway. Perhaps he meant to be on the shadier side of the weyr. Entrance is unceremonious, lacking instrument, singing or anything else (that'd be weird anyway). A urinal is picked and, well, business it is. Guy code is honored; there's no shoulder-surfing from this corner of the latrines. Doo-dee-duuum. From just outside the latrines, loud laughter can be heard. Maybe a party's coming!

For some seconds, there's nothing but the sound of running water; K'del certainly doesn't so much as glance up to acknowledge Ceawlin. That would be weird, and totally against guy code. The lack of mirrors, and the fact that he's staring so resolutely at the wall, means he can't be aware of who his companion is… which makes his sudden, "What've you got for me?" extra weird. Case of mistaken identity? Spy meeting gone wrong? 

If K'del was looking at Ceawlin during such a time of vulnerability, that would be incredibly weird. The sound of water and the occasional shuffle of feet are the only sounds the harper apprentice gives off, his attention so focused on the task that normally cold-blue eyes are unfocused. Until K'del breaks the guy code. "What do you need?" the boy pops off with, giving the /much/ taller (seriously, K'del has some good genes) a half-way side look that's more from the startle of being talked /to/. Maybe it is a spy meeting gone wrong, or maybe Ceawlin is playing hard to get. Or he's bluffing. Hey, it could happen.

Of course, yes, it could also be a proposition (maybe ''that'' is what this set of latrines gets used for!)… except for the way K'del suddenly jumps, swinging his head around to display an aghast expression. "You're not-- ''fuck''. Never mind. It's nothing." Awkward. ''Awk''ward. The tall bronzerider is suddenly pink faced, and evidently of the inclination to hurry his business: the sooner he can get out of here the better. 

"Woah, buddy!" Ceawlin is edging away from K'del while also trying to hurry through the suddenly awkward business. K'del broke the guy code! "Try and spray ''that'' way!" If only ''turbo'' peeing really was a skill that one could excel at. "I'm not who?" now the harper's voice is fairly neutral, though he's careful not to look at K'del. Curiosity is there, however. "Your lover? Are you one of ''those'' guys?" Bathroom fetish. Eyebrow quirks.

"What? Fuck. No!" Evidently, embarrassment gives K'del stage-fright, because ''his'' stream of pee dries up almost immediately. "Thought you were-- it's nothing. ''Information'', not-- gross. You think a person'd come ''here'' for a-- that's disgusting." He seems to feel pretty strong about that, and in hastily zipping himself back up and heading for the sinks. "I'm sorry. But no." 

Ceawlin is struggling to hold in the amusement at the larger man's embarrassment. "What are you apologizing to me for? It's not like ''I'' propositioned ''you''." Hastily cutting off his own stream, the harper's quickly securing his pants -- hey you never know! -- and also heading to the sinks. "Information, huh?" Again, that pale brow quirks. "Information on what?" A glance over his shoulder at the not quite so nice latrines, before turning back to K'del. "Anyone will go anywhere to satisfy their desires. It's the human condition, disgusting as it may seem to ''me''," he peers up at K'del, "and ''you''." Dubiously said, though, as though not believing the bronzerider his ''tale'' of information. "Wait. Aren't you that guy?" The question comes as if Ceawlin doesn't already know who he might be. Sly expression crosses his features as if this may provide some juicy gossip. K'del, the latrines fetish guy.

K'del has not been an easily recognisable figure for the past ten turns and more to readily expect to go un-recognised; now that they're no longer peeing, he can turn his head sidelong with less embarrassment, and award Ceawlin a wilting glance. "Don't play coy with me," he says, less authoritative in tone than perhaps he'd intended to be - or would like to be. "If I wanted an assignation with someone, I have a perfectly good weyr for it. I was-- supposed to meet someone. Not for ''that''. Anyway, doesn't matter. Wasn't important." One hand, still damp from the sink, runs through his short-cropped curls. "Don't go talking about me, Harper. Please.  Got enough problems without ''that''." Now he just sounds defeated. 

Ceawlin may have been good with bluffing and guesswork (or he's that creepster that tries to get a handle on who's who), and when his bluff (or creepster tendencies) yields some semblance of results, it's like hitting pay dirt. Or not. Running his hands under the water, soapsand used liberally (no one likes a dirty handed fella emerging from the latrines), the boy glances at K'del. "No insult intended," he says, easily enough, "But you have to admit, it sounded bad." He pauses, "No matter who you are." A touch of dry humor comes with another side-glance to K'del. "I suppose you do," he hedges, slowly. Although more driven by consideration of the other man than anything else.

This time, K'del manages to laugh, though it's a bitter, rueful kind of a sound. "Yeah," he allows. "Guess it probably did. Didn't think-- mostly, people just don't come in here." Which makes it an ideal location for so many things, mostly less than legitimate. His pause is hesitant, as though he's attempting to work things through in his mind, his expression studious in its consideration of Ceawlin. His brows raise: it rather looks as though he's waiting for something, anticipating it. 

"It is a good place in which to hold a private, conversation," Ceawlin allows, shaking his hands free of water before turning to lean one hip against the sink, and folding his arms across his chest. He, too, considers K'del, silent for a long moment. Then: "Or it's a good place to find when one needs to do something that won't cause questions." Of his own business in this particular place at this particular time, he gives little away other than that, but he does finally come to some decision. "I won't say anything about this," lips twitch as humor surfaces once more. Maybe there's an implied 'but' here. Maybe not.

K'del's smile is definitely weak, definitely hesitating around the edges. He takes in a deep breath through barely-touching teeth, letting it whistle in and out again. "It's a good thing I'm not a spy," he says, attempting to make light. "It's obvious I'd be terrible at the whole cloak-and-dagger thing. You're not going to say anything; that's good." It rather looks as though he's expecting the 'but', though - and his eyebrows are still raised. "Could certainly make it look bad for you, too, if you did. Just… so you know." 

"No, you're not so good at it," Ceawlin answers easily, even with some real humor. Until K'del continues on. Blue eyes widen just a little bit, before words come, incredulous, "Are you threatening me?" Sharp features suddenly lose whatever burgeoning camaraderie might have been developing after the foiled latrines attempt. "And I will cry foul at being badgered by a rider who claimed his life was so hard. Who would the weyr believe? Perhaps me. Perhaps you. But ''that'' would generate way more problems for you than me." Or so, Ceawlin assumes anyway.

"No!" K'del looks stricken, horrified, and-- then he closes his eyes, turns away, and looks, for a moment, like he's about to beat his head into a wall. It's probably realisation that the walls in here are probably not all that clean that makes him stop; even so, he doesn't glance back around. "No. That wasn't a threat. That was-- fuck. Just suck at this. Uh-- no, not like that. ''I'' su-- I'm not good at this. Any of it. Can we just forget this whole meeting never happened? Start again? Please."

This is becoming a comedy of errors, especially when K'del gets flustered again as words get (again) misinterpreted. "Do you need ''lessons''?" Ceawlin asks this question seriously, the cold expression dissipating in the face of K'del's ineptitude. "I mean, seriously. Here you are, in a shitty place," pun intended, "Sounding like you're a latrines-loving pervert threatening the passerby who bandy words with you." He's a harper for a ''reason''. However, a careful pause is given, seriously considering K'del for a long moment. "I was given some training in this, you know, but if you just want to forget all of this happened..." Although his tenor trails off, the implication is that perhaps K'del could use some direction in this whole clandestine act. "My name's Ceawlin. Harper senior apprentice." Finally, introduction!

K'del doesn't turn around, apparently preferring the pseudo-anonymity of letting Ceawlin see his back and nothing more. It's probably for the best: his blush is furious, and the self-loathing of his expression? Yeah, that's not a good look. "Maybe I should just hire you to do the intriguing for me," he says, but only after he's let Ceawlin's words sit, unchallenged, for several seconds more than is probably polite. "K'del. Bronzerider. Former Weyrleader-- but you know that already, I'm sure. Better at things that don't involve skulking around skeezy latrines." 

Outwardly at least, Ceawlin doesn't seem perturbed at the fact that K'del sits just this side of polite. "Maybe you should," the boy comments, still young enough to make the old feel older. "Did I?" he returns back, canting his head to the side. "You see, that's the first rule of ferreting out information. Try to play along, ''usually'' someone will say more than they mean to if you sound like you know more than you do." Consider it a first lesson. "All ''I'' asked was, 'aren't you that guy?' You're the one who made the assumption. Now, there's lots of ''rumors'' about you, but..." This harper is a mix of youth and wisdom, and some parts reckless. "You're certainly better at anything other than this." Once again, dry humor infiltrates his tenor. Especially when giving the latrines another once-over. "And certainly, you know how to pick the nastiest location."

This time, K'del does turn around, fixing a thoughtful glance upon Ceawlin. "Used to be Weyrleader," he points out. "And you're a Harper. The day Harpers don't get taught to recognise dignitaries on sight is the day they stop being relevant to anyone. Not sure it's a bad assumption on my part, working on the basis that you - and most people - know who I am." Despite this, he has a short, sharp nod, which rather suggests he's nonetheless taking Ceawlin's lesson on board… more or less. "Nasty is useful, sometimes. Dive bars and under-utilised latrines: no one pays a person any mind." Beat. Then, ruefully, "Usually, anyway." 

"There is truth in that. I am well trained to recognize people of importance," Ceawlin agrees, though with slight change to terminology and possibly meaning. "Nasty is only useful if you're paying attention to who you're speaking to," as K'del encountered this evening. "Even if you make a mistake... it's better to bluff it out rather than," now glance escapes to the urinals, "get startled." And thus end up jumping while doing one's business! He waits longer than is necessarily polite to add, "Sir." K'del ''is'' a former ''Weyrleader''.

Something in K'del's expression suggests he has not missed that change in terminology, nor what it implies; he seems to accept it, though, given the low nod that follows. "I-- uh, yes. Believe me, it's a lesson I will take care not to forget." Again, he runs his fingers through his hair, mussing the blond curls with hands that are, at least, now dry. "Bluffing is not my strong suit, but I'll work on that, too. Guess I've got plenty to learn, young Harper. Is your knowledge in this area indication that I ''do'' have a spy in my presence? You reporting back on everything you hear to your Masters at the Hall?" He doesn't sound surprised. 

"Let's just say that I am connected to many people who are interested in what's happening here in your weyr," Ceawlin hedges, neither confirming nor denying K'del's assumption of actual ''spying''. "Spying is such a naughty word," the harper continues, "But the whole of Pern is interested in what happens here, and the Harper Hall is a ''very'' interested party." Letting silence lapse while this sinks in, "Which you could use to your advantage, were you to be so inclined." Almost ruefully, the younger harper adds, "And if you want to get far in what you want, you need to learn to bluff. Or they'll eat you alive." Maybe he oversteps himself here. He ''is'' young!

K'del looks down at Ceawlin, one part amused (now that he's back on firmer footing), and one part dismissive-- though the amused part is definitely the larger of the two. "And if I were inclined," he says. "Keeping in mind that while my skills in subterfuge may be lacking, I'm no political newbie. Been entwined in the politics of this place since you were in short pants, remember." His arms cross in front of him; his head tilts to one side. He's listening. And waiting, too. And maybe, just quietly, keeping an eye on the closed door.  

Ceawlin is only fairly good at choking down the mild irritation at that dismissiveness (it's a flaw), but still he smiles and spreads his arms, "No less than I'd expect, of course. Whether you choose to take advantage of the climate at your weyr or not, there ''are'' people here who are watching and reporting and waiting to see what happens. Waiting to see if this place becomes a battleground for a new way of life..." He shrugs and pushes away from the sink. Confidence, this boy has in spades.

"I intend to take my Weyr back," says K'del, abruptly confident and sure - his shoulders draw back, and his whole presence changes, just like that. "Certainly wouldn't object to working ''with'' the Harpers. Sharing information. Keeping the channels of communication open." His glance is briefly meaningful, but then he breaks it off, glancing back in the direction of the door. No one's approaching, unless they're being terribly quiet, but perhaps he's paranoid. "Not going to beat around the bush on this. Not going to make things up, or steal power; going to be upfront. That's my intention." 

"Good," Ceawlin answers, his own eyes drifting to the doorway, "Because it's never good to work ''against'' the harpers." That just ends badly. "Well, if you have intentions of taking back your weyr, some dirty work probably is necessary. One of the most important things I was taught was that Good Intentions," the harper says this after swiping his hands one last time under the faucet, to flick the water droplets off his fingers, "rarely yields exactly what you aim to get. Usually, I've been told, there's someone in the wings doing the dirty work that the man who stands for morality can't -- or won't -- do." In some aspects, the boy speaks of things he's not personally experienced, and though it doesn't necessarily show in his demeanor, it's not rocket science to extrapolate his relative inexperience. Yet on the other hand, he's obviously been schooled in such things. "Your," pause, "''contact'' must be coming along for the way you're looking at the door. Why don't I just quietly leave now, hm?" Might as well call a spade a spade here!

This time, the look on K'del's face could almost be described as patronising-- but he covers it quickly with a more amused grin. "Reckon he ought to have been here before," he says. "Otherwise, I'd've been standing on my own in here for a long time, looking like an idiot with the lack of peeing." Instead of looking like an idiot ''while'' peeing, which is, realistically, what happened instead. "But yes. You go on. Imagine I'll give what you've said some thought. And-- if you come up with anything you think I'd want to know? Reckon we can exchange. Imagine I could be of some assistance to the Harpers." 

Ceawlin does not take the patronizing well, but if he did, he'd be a one weird kid without any foibles. "Reckon we could at that," the harper says, tenor neutral and blue eyes cold. "Enjoy yourself, K'del," he murmurs, already on his way out. Pushing out of the latrines -- dirty, dirty latrines -- and into the hallway. The best part of being on the fairly short side is in not sticking out. Or so he tells himself. Poof, gone!





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