Difference between revisions of "Logs:Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kid."

It's getting a little later but that doesn't mean that the Snowasis has died down all that much. H'vier's little claimed space of the bar, however, is pretty subdued at the moment. The scruffy bronzerider is drinking, which isn't unusual, and he's not punching anyone. Which isn't unusual lately but it was pretty usual for a little while. Since That One Flight (tm), the Istan's presence has been pretty forgettable around these parts. Either he's found other things to keep him occupied in warmer areas of Pern. Or he's resigned himself to Things.

One of the perks of senior weyrlinghood is a lack of curfew. It's a perk that some take advantage of more often than others. K'zin's face isn't entirely unfamiliar to Snowasis, but neither can he be counted as a real regular these days. When he plods in from the inner caverns there are some nods given to a few familiar faces as he makes his way to the bar. "This seat taken?" He questions, pointing to the empty one beside the scruffy bronzer. As the bartender nears, the dusky-skinned man leans in against the bar to order a beer.

"Not yet," returns H'vier, who can no doubt see where that question is going despite not glancing over at the source. Since the bartender is over this way, too, he taps his glass so he can get himself topped off. He's given a look but he'll get what he wants and he knows it without having to explain himself.

It's not exactly an invitation, but it's also not a comment that actively deters, so K'zin slides into the seat and waits for his drink. He doesn't have to wait long. He gives a sidelong glance to the man, taking in his general look, but more importantly his knot and wing badge. "How do you like riding with Avalanche?" The question is delivered casually as the young man picks up his beer. Why he cares? Well, he, too, wears a knot: senior weyrling, fancy silver thread for leadership potential, and a badge for Cirrus Wing.

"Sharding greenrider is a poor excuse for a Wingleader," says H'vier still before he bothers glancing over to see who he's talking to. But when he finally does that, he doesn't look like he thinks he's said anything that he ought to take back. "Ah," is what he says instead, like he sees where that's going, too. "Suppose it wouldn't hurt to have some more male influence around there."

"Maybe you'll get some out of the latest bunch of us graduating. Then again, the guys in our class keep getting themselves bumped further and further from graduation instead of getting closer and closer." K'zin gives a little roll of his shoulders. "Knocking girls up, getting sick, sneaking into a Hold and torturing pirates. You know, all the usual weyrlinghood mishaps." He lifts his beer again, "So, what I mean to say is, you might get some, but it might be a while. Dunno that that would change the leadership much. I hear they don't hand wings to untried riders unless a leadership flight means they can't help it."

"I didn't say one of you brats would get the knot. I haven't been listening to that wherry squawking her lungs out just to let some kid whose balls haven't even dropped yet take it from me." H'vier's voice stays relatively low and quite calm as he talks about it. Just another casual conversation at the Snowasis.

This casual conversation has K'zin's eyebrows lifting, the corner of his lips twitching slightly as though they want to tug into an amused smile but aren't sure if this reception is likely to get them closer to being crowned by a broken nose or not. "Never said you did. And I'd not presume to think one of us would. Especially not if you've got designs on it already." Casual conversation indeed, "The Weyr does seem sorely in need of ambitious bronzeriders these days." If H'vier expected a rise from the teen, it doesn't seem that he's about to get one, at least not from words like that.

"Ambitious bronzeriders don't mean shit when the Weyr's queens have no taste in mates," points out the Istan with a small but brief sneer. He might be mostly over the damage done to his pride but that doesn't change the fact of who is currently in charge of the Weyr. H'vier nurses his drink thoughtfully. Maybe more pensive than thoughtful, actually. "Suppose you're one of the ambitious ones? Where you got your sights set, kid?"

K'zin's head wobbles from side to side in a sort of agreement with the older bronzer's words, "Yeah. You've a definite point there. There might be something to be said for influencing the human half of the equation. Though, the way I hear it," though from the way he says it, he lacks personal experience in the matter, "Human preferences mean shit to dragons in heat." More of his beer is consumed before there's a shrug in answer to the question of ambition. "My sights are set on a situation where things are less fucked up than this." Though his role in that remains unexplained.

"And it was the /golds/ fucking the browns, not their sharding riders," says H'vier like that proves whatever point he was trying to make in the first place. But he's probably thought about all of this stuff more than he really cares to admit in the last however many months and it's doubtful he's going to let some kid he just met get his wheels spinning again. At least not until there's a gold ready to high tail it into the skies. "Nice goal. Let me know how that works out for you. Your boy even chased yet?"

"Well, the way I heard it, there was some extra fucking between riders in at least half the equation. Donno if that was before or after the flight though. And don't know if it matters either." K'zin's beer is finished and the nearest bartender is waved at to request another. "Ha. So far, no progress. But I guess I'm young and stuff and have time or whatever." So specific. The weyrling shakes his head, "No. I feel like it'll be soon though. He's interested, for sure. Probably the next green that goes up will have him chasing. But we've not been here much lately. Exercising our new betweening privileges. Guess they're not so new now though."

"You really think that brownriding bitch was fucking one of the Weyrwomen before or after the flight? That's crazy. She's crazy. Could see the other one, though." The first thought, while crazy to him, is actually not that bad to think about, at least. He might have to think about it some more once he takes himself home later. But for now he'll just take another drink and rub his eyes with thumb and forefinger after he sets down his glass. "You're giving me a headache. Please tell me you've at least caught something." Which is actually kind of rhetorical. Listening to teenage conquest stories isn't really what he comes to the Snowasis for.

"Think?" K'zin's qualm is with the choice of word, but he doesn't say the word 'know' out loud, but rather gives a slight raise of the brow and the sidelong glance he gives H'vier. "Guess you weren't at the Turnover feast last turn where they were very friendly with one another. Friendlier than need be for a Weyrwoman and her Weyrleader." To the other question, there's again more answer in his expression than in his words, a self-satisfied smirk finding his lips. He won't have his ears offended by any tales tonight, it seems, but the look is probably enough to confirm that the man is more experienced than the dragon.

"I try to avoid all of that shit. Just shut up, I don't want to hear about it." H'vier waves a hand dismissively at K'zin and picks up his glass again to down the rest of that sucker in one lovely gulp. He sets it down again, fingering the rim like he's not sure whether he wants to demand another or not. "Congratulations on getting your dick wet," he says to the younger bronzerider. Offending the elder is probably next to impossible. Unless you're a woman in some position of authority, at least. "I think it might be time to refill my glass back at my own weyr, though."

K'zin's hands raise in a little 'have it your way' gesture before settling around his second beer. Amusement plays on his lips for the offer of kudos, though there's the smallest trace of a blush under his dusky-skinned cheeks, so clearly he's not so experienced as to be considered a pro. "Have a good night..." He trails off in a way that encourages a name, but the glance he gives the older bronzerider is hardly one that looks like it's about to press for one if it's not readily offered.

"H'vier," he offers as he rises, leaving a tip for the bartender and making some gesture for them to take care of the kid. Which is sort of like he's buying drinks for a dude. Or at least good favor with the bartender. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kid," he says, though considering the source, that leaves pretty much anything open.