Difference between revisions of "Logs:Use Your Experience"

K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

Rank certainly has its privileges, and among them are amply appointed apartments. The short flight of stairs from the Weyrleader's Complex opens up into the larger of two chambers, formally decorated and clearly designed to cater as much to important guests as the occupant's personal living. Old, but obviously expensive, llama wool rugs dyed blue-and-black cover the stone floor, leading towards the second chamber, the stairs, and the rush-filled dragon couch and ledge beyond it. A formal seating arrangement - a sofa and chairs, all blue-and-black - sits around a large, tiled fireplace, whilst along the other wall, a finely made, if now somewhat antique, desk sits between a bookshelf and a tall cupboard to which tack-hooks have been attached, riding gear arranged neatly inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendour for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl, and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside.

The inner weyr, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area, is smaller and cosier and distinctly less ostentatious. An oversized wooden sleigh bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter, their covers dyed in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze. There's a nightstand on either side, both with reading lamps, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf holding toiletries, shaving equipment, and clean towels.

The weather out in the bowl isn't too pleasant, rain angling in all directions in its best attempt to saturate as many unprotected places as possible. Luckily, the roominess of the Weyrleader's weyr allows a person to step a good amount inside -- and away from the elements -- without intruding too much on personal space. So, even with the added space of the stairs to separate inside from outside, bluerider H'leni takes the extra paces, a hand on his tag-along's back urging her in along with him even after her heels seem to have entrenched into the floor. His gaze down as that's how he'd been walking outside, the rider raps a hand along the outer stone wall to announce their arrival, his and Saliqa's. "/Something/'s been asking around for you." He informs loudly into the air, finally glancing up to see if the young bronzerider's even visible; he's likely asked if he's present already.

Weather like this, it's no wonder Cadejoth is as far within the weyr as he gets, curled up in his couch, and his rider, well, he's spread out on the floor near the hearth, socked feet in the air and his stomach to the ground, reading. It's not an especially dignified position, and one that he corrects in an instant, as soon as bluerider and companion have ben announced to him. Hoisting himself up, his hair dark and wet, his shirt still patchily dry, he reaches for the mantle to steady himself as, finally, he says: "Something's been-- what? Huh?" Blue eyes track from the bluerider to Saliqa, then back again, narrowing slightly in confusion and appraisal.

"She wanted to talk to you," the bluerider states a bit more officially once K'del's posture seems to ask for it. "Seemed to have forgotten this was a possibility, so..." His palm-up gesture indicates himself generously, describing his kindness in showing Saliqa the way. This movement also removes the hand from the girl's back. Rather than flee, which may have been the first impression, she overcompensates some by leaning forward, dipping immediately into a wavering curtsy. "About the questions, sir Weyrleader," she expresses with a fit of sporadic confidence, "You said I could call on you and use your experience." Excuse H'leni!-- if he's coughing into his hand, it's surely the weather's fault.

Evidently, the pieces do fall into place given these explanations, though K'del can't help but fasten a dismissive glance in H'leni's direction at that cough: now, now, he seems to be saying, silently, there's no need for that. For Saliqa's sake, his next remark is a warm one, confident, as he beckons her forward. "Of course-- yes. Please: come in, come sit by the fire." Where there's a nice, safe, /normal/ couch to sit in. At least, this being a weyr of the size it is, there are no private chambers in sight. To the bluerider, he adds, then, "Appreciate you showing her the way. Not a terribly... well, you know. When you don't know your way around every part of a weyr. When you're new." It seems to be a dismissal.

Awww, shucks. If H'leni could have blended into the wall, he surely would have. But, accepting the dismissal for what it is, he snaps off a salute and wishes the both of them a good evening before he tromps back on out into the weather. Meanwhile, first threshold crossed, Saliqa seems to have taken up an entirely new hesitant occupation in staring at Cadejoth. She isn't staring outright, which would be rude of course, but a shiftier steady glance through the corner of her eyes. Nearly blind, she walks most of the way to the couch; almost tripping resets her vision onto K'del. "Thank you," she snaps off automatically, now brushing at the edges of her sleeves and hood where water has gathered. "I hope I'm not disturbing too much... It seemed a good time, what with it being a rest day."

Cadejoth observes the candidate right back, his wriggly tail beating contentedly against the rushes within his couch, the stone beneath; he seems a happy sort, if such a thing can be gleaned so easily. K'del watches them both, during that, still leaning against the mantlepiece, though as Saliqa gets to the couch, he draws his arm away, and heads instead to sit in the armchair. "Sure," he says, easily enough. "Not working on anything important. Make yourself comfortable-- dry off a bit. And ask away."

Saliqa gets about the business of getting comfortable. Standing in front of the couch, she crosses one ankle over the other then drops gracefully onto the seat, fully poised already. The bottom of the fabric of her skirt is wet from brushing the ground, but she ignores this to attend to pulling off her hood carefully; she fixes the hair that it displaces. There's a tug left and right at the corners of the coat but it ends up remaining on. From the pocket, she pulls out a stack of vaguely bent hides that she sets on her lap and smoothes compulsively. Pointing a finger at the first of the letters, she wets her lips-- and catches Cadejoth again. "This... seems... more strange with him there," she admits quietly, "Is he-- I mean, dragons can just talk behind your back without you knowing..."

While she settles herself, K'del is careful to keep his gaze from lingering too long on her - just to make sure, no doubt, that she doesn't get /too/ uncomfortable. Mostly, he stares at the fire, and perhaps that's why her eventual question seems to catch him at least a little by surprise. "They can," he agrees, sliding his attention between the two of them, maintaining a mostly serious expression. Not /heavily/ serious, though: just not laughing. "Is he listening, going to share what he hears? I doubt it. The latter, anyway. /Can/ get him to go and sit in the hatching ledges, or something, if it makes you more comfortable. He won't mind." He's pretty sure of that one.

Biting her lip, Saliqa takes a long second to consider this proposal before she gives her head a shake, sending random leftover raindrops here and there. "No, it-- I came here. I shouldn't inconvenience a resident in his own home," hands on top of each other, she openly gestures to Cadejoth. "Besides, what kind of candidate would I be, can't stay in a room with a dragon at all." Then, turning her knees ever so slightly to the side, she starts again by running hands along the hide in front of her and then finding a spot with her pointer. "Alright then, firstly: Does the queen mother tell the dragons who to pick? Oh wait, that's another one... well. I have both. That she tells the Search dragons who to pick, but also that she tells the hatchlings who to pick on the Sands."

Cadejoth keeps his rumble low, and the beating of his tail to an absolute minimum... for him. Which is still a fair amount, but still. He's trying! "He says thank you," translates K'del, with a rueful smile which is mostly aimed at his lifemate. He barely skips a beat in continuing after that, again taking on that more serious tone and expression. "No." Beat. "And no again, to the second one. Reckon they wish they could, half the time: if they could, it'd probably mean no convicts, no one the Weyrwoman didn't like, and probably, our own Weyrwoman wouldn't have Impressed." He pauses, then adds, "But don't tell her I said that. Search dragons sense something in people, which is how they get searched. And hatchlings... they just /know/. Don't know how; none of them have ever been able to explain it."

Saliqa's reaction to that tail-thumping is the half-bemused, patronizing look once might bestow upon a puppy when you're more of a feline person-- until she catches herself doing it. "You're ve--" her gaze side-tracks to K'del, "He's very welcome...?" He is, in fact, welcome; the pause comes about for whether she should be addressing the dragon directly or not. But then they've moved onto questions and she presents a quill to take down as much as she can in a careful, slow hand. At one point, she starts a line then hurriedly scribbles it out, conveniently coinciding with his pause and addition about who to tell. "They don't know?" She queries, looking up distractedly, then down again to fish through the hides available, "It's not a smell or a-- here: eating certain foods before the Hatching won't make a difference?"

"You can address him," puts in K'del, helpfully, right before they get too far moved along. He's obviously doing his best to take all of these questions seriously, but this latest one does draw a twitch of the lips, mirth not going contained. "No, absolutely not. Nothing you do, eat, say, or anything like that will make any difference to the hatchlings. All you got to do is stay on your toes to move out of the way if you need to, and let them do the finding: they work it out themselves. Something about who we are... don't know. They just /know/."

The quill etches a couple more characters then Saliqa lays it across the hide, her arms coming to rest beside the freshly laid ink as she eyeballs the Weyrleader with her own curiosity, rather than one written down for her. "If they just /know/, then what's the funny business of wearing all the same thing? Unless that's someone else taking me for a ride... but I've heard others say it, too. That we'll be all in white. And then they tease me and say I'll have to take these out." On these, she demonstrates by leaning harder on one elbow and raising a finger to tap against the dangling earrings she wears.

K'del wrinkles his nose, as though he has to think about this one. Finally, he says, "Think it's because it's distracting. But yes, you'll all be in white robes, all the same. And no jewellery." That last bit is apologetic, but made with a shrug of his shoulders. "Part of that is tradition, maybe, but also safety. Hatchlings are-- they can be dangerous. Better if everyone looks the same, as much as possible, so that they can concentrate on what they can sense inside your head, I guess. Wouldn't want those danglies to get ripped out by accident or something." Ow, says his expression.

'Ow!' echoes Saliqa's own, fingers reflexively and possessively curling around the smooth metal before she drops the hand to her lap. "I see your point..." Conceding this one, she pulls backwards to reveal the hides. She licks her lips with still a touch of that nervousness while switching one out for the other. The nerves cause her to immediately begin reciting before her mind's really tackled the question as a whole, which leads to the unfortunate business of: "Does everyone in the Weyr run around na-- oh well, come on." She accuses the very inked words hotly, similar to the warmth that tones dark cheeks red, "T-That's silly. I don't know who wrote that. Anyway, seems the answer'd be pretty obvious from the start." After a bit more rambling, she clears her throat and then sort of freezes in place uncomfortably.

"You can put them on again straight afterwards," says K'del, firmly. "Though if you're a weyrling-- well, cross that bridge when you get to it, right?" The next question, and the blush that accompanies it, makes him positively chortle-- though he's careful to make some effort to make it look as though it's not /Saliqa/ he's laughing at. "You'd think, right? It being obvious, I mean. So, no, right, no people running around naked, not as a rule. Not even proddy greenriders, for the most part."

At her or not, the laughing gets a rise out of Saliqa beyond the new color to her skin. It's more because she's on edge already than a need to lash out at the Weyrleader. But strangely, the more he laughs -- that tone when he responds -- and she more she gets flustered by it is the more the hint of that /other/ girl beneath the surface peeks out. "Perhaps some times of the turn you wear clothes just to fool us feeble-minded," she points out with sudden good-naturedness, waving the quill towards the hide, "So shall I put down, 'not as a rule, but sometimes as sport'? Dangerous sport, no less. Wearing nothing as the weather drops hail all over your--" Ohhh, awkward again. Just like that, she slouches and somehow works up the notion to inquire weakly, "Proddy... sir?"

Oops: K'del looks genuinely apologetic and outright awkward for his laughter, but if he's noticed those hints of the /other/ girl, the one he's met only passingly, well, that's all the better. Maybe that's why he doesn't /completely/ shut up. He draws his hands towards his knees, resting one on each and, at her good-natured reply, seems to relax a little more. "Lulling you into a false sense of security," he agrees, then, managing a somewhat weak grin, even if it brightens considerably at her awkward remark. /He's/ amused. His remark is more gentle, though; "Won't deny we're less prudish than holdfolk, about nudity. But sure: as sport." He inhales carefully before answering the rest, his fingers tightening slightly on his knees. "Proddy is... dragons rise to mate, right?" Beat; slightly awkward. "A couple of times a turn for the greens, usually. And before they go up, they start getting all emotional, and it sort of... bleeds through a bit. To their riders."

"Prudish?" Saliqa echoes, nose wrinkling in a manner she likely wishes was haughty but looks more like she'd get patted on the head and called 'cute' by any opposition. "I believe that word has /negative/ cona... sounds to it, sir. For future reference." She waves the top of that quill at him in reprimand. Maybe also to hide the way her penmanship, already weak, falters as he explains. Some shifting of skirts and gentle, non-obstrusive, clearing of throat happens during the brief beat he pauses. Although part of her clearly objects to the subject matter, a fierce bite of her lip and deep inhale later and she's convinced herself to go on -- in the name of learning! "So, it does happen, then..." It takes a moment for her to realize how ambiguous and possibly terrible that sounded and she waves a hand pre-emptively, "That is, I mean. Rider and dragon personality... mixing, I suppose, together?"

Oh, good, time for some /more/ awkward. "Sorry," says K'del, hastily, looking genuinely apologetic. The apology may even cover - and probably does, at that - the entirety of the conversation, and where it's heading; his knees shift awkwardly, and oh dear, he really is beginning to look like maybe he's regretting this. But! Valiantly continuing; "Didn't mean it like that. Is it better if I say we tend to have fewer inhibitions?" He looks hopeful. For a moment. Until he has to continue, again, clearing his throat before he says, "Er-- a bit, yeah. Temporarily, with flights. Not in major ways, but... enough. Can be pretty disconcerting. More for riders of female dragons than male, though, I guess; we have it a bit easier. Just the flight, and that's-- different, I guess."

Saliqa's hands are busying themselves with tiny, silly jobs that keep half her mind occupied while they both stammer around this conversation. "That's... that sounds--" she attempts a diplomatic approach but there's just no wording for it. Instead, pulling shoulders down and arranging herself to see the stack of hides again, she replies, "I'm sorry, these aren't even questions from the sheets anymore. I've gone off-track and made you uncomfortable," not to mention herself, "If you want me to..." Her hand beckons to the door area, her body partially rising before she drops down without having made up her mind. A bit of a glance here and there and then her voice is quieter, "Come to think of it, if I told you to use some of the wording my father taught me instead, about the Weyr... I guess-- I guess I'd be sounding just as rude. It just. Well, it never seemed like it meant anything to you people before." It's an odd, still vaguely non-politically correct, confession but her eyes are at least sincere and meaningful as they raise to find him.

K'del opens his mouth to stop her - probably - as Saliqa starts to rise, and shuts it again as she sinks back down. In the end, it's a rueful kind of smile that he manages for her, as his head shakes. Gently, albeit not in a way intended to be condescending or patronising, he tells, "I remember some of the things people say. First time I saw most of my childhood friends, after Impressing, they were full of-- questions. Think they found it a little disappointing, actually, that everything wasn't /quite/ as racy and... immoral as they'd imagined. Shall we take a deep breath and continue? Not /so/ very uncomfortable, really." That's a lie, but he's making an effort at least, now, to sink backwards in his chair, to let his hands fall about his sides. His smile is encouraging, too. "Flights and all that-- they're pretty much impossible to understand entirely until you experience them. It's not bad, though. It's-- the closest you get to your lifemate, outside the moment of Impression."

She takes a while to think about this last one, the top of the feathered end of the quill tickling her lower lip as she tilts her head and thinks. "Lifemate," she repeats after this long pause, "It's sort of a romantic word, isn't it. "Like husband. The way a bond /should/ be." Though most of the flight talk has settled down, there's a lingering bashfulness and a vague reprise of the blush when she accidentally glances up at K'del in the middle of that thought. A swallow and it's gone. Saliqa daintily unhooks her ankles and then layers them again the opposite way. There's a tenderness to the air still, that vulnerability that could lead to more awkwardness. But she speaks firmly and plainly. "What did all of your friends think? Are you still friends with the same people anymore?"

It doesn't seem to have occurred to K'del before, to think of the word in such terms; he looks genuinely both surprised and thoughtful at it, an impression that lingers in even while Saliqa continues to more prosaic remarks. He says as much, too: "Hadn't thought of it like that, but yes, guess so. It's-- there's no changing your mind, or falling for someone else, or whatever. You Impress, you really are bound for life, and no finagling with the law or anything. And human relationships are... different, afterwards." He doesn't offer further explanation on that, instead surging ahead to add, "Used to see more of them. Before--" a wave around the weyr. Weyrleadership, then, presumably. "I'd already been away a few months, when I Impressed, anyway, so there was already-- distance, I guess. They ended up finding it really weird, that I was Weyrleader, and they were-- still the way they were when I left, I guess. Made things hard."

The suggestion that marriage includes things such as 'falling for someone else' sours Saliqa's look for all of how long it's mentioned, but she's distracted easily enough by the answer to her question and her expression evens out. "I suppose that makes sense... you start doing things separate from each other, it gets, well, different." Sadness creeps in; she plucks at the fabric gathering at her knees mournfully. Talking more seems to help: "Didn't you find it weird, too? I mean, we're the same age, and here you are. Entertaining me in this--" she also indicates the weyr, but with a couple of fingers, "I expressed once to your Weyrwoman I found the manner of picking leaders to be strange here and she got quite defensive indeed."

K'del doesn't miss that sadness, and his expression softens for it. It's the first thing he comments on, when he gets the opportunity; "Doesn't mean you have to lose them. It's all about the effort you put in. I know plenty of people who're still close to people who live halfway across the continent... that's the great thing about dragons. Once they've grown, you can get anywhere in a few seconds." It's intended, presumably, to be encouraging. But; "Yeah, I find it weird." His expression is rueful as he continues on and says this. He glances around the weyr, shakes his head. "It's been two and a half turns, and I still find it weird. Not sure it stops being weird. Weyrleaders being picked this way-- it's tradition, I guess. Maybe not so different to people being leaders because of who their parents were, in the weirdness factor, when you think about it. Though at least then they get raised to it. Weyrfolk /do/ tend to get defensive about it. Then again, Tiriana-- she'd rather it have gone a different way. So."

"Raised in it," Saliqa repeats, agreeing, "And you always know exactly what is expected of you." Which is the key thing, really, and could sum up any number of the shaky problems she's been having lately. Either she felt too personal to comment more about friends, or the conversation just got herded on before she could. Her concentrated frown is all for the leadership matter at hand. "That's it, too, isn't it? That it can go. One way or another. Though, I suppose in all fairness, people can oppose the way arranged marriages go. But at least then they're /arranged/." As her gaze drifts off to the side it's clear she's more reasoning to herself and doing it out-loud than particularly addressing K'del anymore. Until, suddenly, that distracted tilt is gone as she watches him. "Oh, but, really, K'del? /Sir/? But besides one little slip-up you've done quite well representing yourself. To me, at least. And I /am/ an emissary, so. That should mean something, I think."

"But you still get bad leaders," puts in K'del. "People who aren't suited to it, who shouldn't be in power." He's not naming names, oh no, definitely not. "The expectations thing-- yeah, I do get where you're coming from there. And there's no easy way around it, I guess." He doesn't have much to say on the topic of arranged marriages, except; "Things are what they are. They work, mostly." All this gives him a couple of moments to come up with something to say in response to her very nice compliments. "Glad to hear that-- that you have such faith in me. Coming from an emissary... fashion emissary or no." It's probably intended to be teasing. "Made plenty of mistakes, though. But so has Tiriana... guess we all do. No one's perfect."

"Not that fashion isn't vitally important," she interjects, "But... I'd like to think it's become a bit more since then." Saliqa seems to have completely abandoned the hides now, only idling unbending a corner of one as she wiggles with a bit of unhidden pride. "Relations with the convicts, accepting Search. My Lord's approval." Something darkens the pride, deepens it ominously. Or maybe that's just the flickering light from the fire, because now it's gone. "I could be doing worse. Could have hopped off the dragon to-- well. Revelry." Or that nakedness from before; but they don't need to go back to that awkwardness. Instead, she presses her lips together with more concentration than was shown thus far in the conversation. She sits on like this for several very long moments, indeed. Then declares, "No one's perfect-- I think I like ma'am Weyrwoman."

Head tipped off to one side, K'del finally nods, apparently accepting that yes, this does rather count as more than just a fashion emissary. He's silent while Saliqa is, watching, but actually cracks a smile at her opinion of Tiriana. "She's certainly something, isn't she? Drives me crazy half the time, but honestly... wish we managed to get along better." He's silent for a moment, then, but backtracks afterwards, frowning. "Your Lord's approval. That mean you've been in contact with Lord Crom? Or just indirectly?"

"Maybe you just need someone in the middle what can talk to you both reasonably," Saliqa suggests openly, spreading her hands out in front of her, "Two of you don't have the advantage of being married to one another, can't expect a ship to run exactly smooth under people looking at it separate ways. Umm. Though, not my-- I mean, it isn't my place to say or tell you how to run nothing." She gives a little cough into her hand, glancing up and eyebrows dipping merely at the sight of his frown, though she remains amiably spoken at the same time. "My stepfather, as it were, expects me to write frequently so he can be a good father and keep track of me. My Lord saw fit to write me a note of encouragement by way of my stepfather's last corr... es... pondance. See? Ever so caring of him, just for me."

K'del cracks a smile, remarks, "Not sure that being married to each other actually makes sure you're seeing something from the same direction, but I don't deny that you're right. /Hoped/ Ezalea would be that person, but... it didn't work out." He doesn't mention that shiny gold egg on the sands, and any hope there might be with that; instead, pressing onwards, "That's very generous of Lord Aughan, to pay such attention. Though I suppose it's an honour to your home hold, to have been selected on Search." K'del is not convinced, maybe, but smiles anyway.

Saliqa may not be quite convinced, either. Her only response is a tight, too-ready smile and, "I suppose we'll see." The Search bearing less importance than that future event to which it leads. "Anyway," she adds, building up some speed after this hesitance, "In a married household, you both want to work together to keep it steady and pleasant for a family. Weyr seems-- well, it seems more fluid than that, sir. Where if you prefer it gone a different way you might get it next time. Seems you'd spend a lot of energy then wishing, or plotting ahead." After a few energetic nods to go along with her points, her bobbing head movement slows and her lips push curiously out to the side. She admits, "... I'm not sure how we got on this from this." The second of which is her stabbing a finger at the collection of questions in her lap.

Bypassing any further mention of Crom, oh yes, K'del considers for a moment. "It's a bigger picture than marriage," he agrees, finally. "Not /just/ 'look after the family' or 'make sure we have enough to eat', but... longer term. Strategy. That's what makes it so complicated. Every little thing you do can come back to haunt you later, for better or for worse." He trails off after that, apparently running out of steam on that particular topic, and says, finally, "Not sure how we did, either. Did you... want to get back to the questions? What's next?"

Though she scans through the top couple of hides and whatever may be written on them, Saliqa flips them down again when she looks up at him. "It's very nice of you to suggest it, but it's been some time... I should probably get-- um. Take off. And not take up your entire evening. By the sound of it, you've lots of long term strategizing to do." The last is offered as a bit of a joke, if he'd like it like that-- and considering the state in which they first found him on entering. This time when she pushes to her feet she gets all the way up and stays there, mind firm on the decision. "You've been very helpful, of course. I'll have a lot to input. I hope the questions weren't /too/ silly for you. They're all sincere, even if they sound funny, except, well, we don't know about that running about without clothes business. Won't be asking that of anyone else, even if you seemed to enjoy it." The origin of her need to ramble isn't quite clear, though she does take her sweet time getting herself standing right, brushing off her skirts, organizing the hides into a straighter pile, etc, etc... basically everything to leave except, well, leaving.

K'del seems surprised, initially, at this sudden intent on departure, but he rises, too, a few moments later, wiping off his breaches and looking rueful. "Strategizing, yes, of course-- no, it's been a pleasure, Saliqa. Glad I could help, even if..." He manages a smile. "You might find others enjoy that clothes question even more. But! Entirely up to you, of course." His reading material from earlier is, after all, still lying on the floor; he casts it a glance, maybe as a momentary diversion, then turns his attention back to the candidate. "If there's anything else, don't hesitate to ask." Beat. And: "You can cut through to the caverns from here, if it helps. Through the Council chambers: there's a door into the records room, and then the caverns are just beyond that. Saves you getting wet again."

She steps in closer to him for that obligatory show of manners, the curtsy, the smile. Saliqa nods, "I'll be sure to take you up on that. Another evening." Appearances meaning everything, she must have been keeping track of how long since it could be said 'a lone girl vanished into the Weyrleader's weyr'. Also, on this merit, she appreciates the mention of a shortcut quite understandably, and visibly. "That's fantastic news. Snow is one thing, and cold is another. But that heavy rain bit that comes down is just disastrous to everything all at once." For one of those longer seconds, she lingers there in front of him with that pondering look on her face. Right before that smile flashes back and she side-steps to find this alternate route.

That pondering look raises K'del's eyebrows, but he doesn't verbalise any questions on the subject. Instead, after a moment more, he laughs: "Know exactly what you mean. Cut there there all the time, myself. Bowl gets pretty miserable-- good night, Saliqa. Have a good evening." And thus, he watches her go. Frowning, admittedly, after she's no longer looking in his direction. Weird girl.