Logs:Help After Hours
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| RL Date: 23 August, 2014 |
| Who: Quinlys, Telavi |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: After hours, the weyrlingmaster and her assistant discuss the situation at hand. |
| Where: Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, G'laer/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Occurs before Iesaryth and Reisoth's clutch hatches. |
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| It's past curfew for the weyrlings in Hraedhyth and Cadejoth's clutch, and as of the rounds Quinlys took a few minutes ago, all is quiet. Quiet enough that she can retreat to the office, the whiskey bottle sitting on the round table along with two glasses, one of which she reaches for, now, to nurse between her fingers. "We really need to train those queens to space their flights out better," she says, long-suffering, to Telavi. "Sure, this lot will be out of the barracks before too much longer, but until they are..." "Just think of the break you'll have after them," Telavi returns cheerfully, tipped back in her chair with her shorts-bared legs propped on the seat of another. She's looking unfocusedly into the distance, and one bare arm gestures that way, too; "Just think, we could assign the older class to be big brothers and big sisters to the younger class, and a few lucky ones get two. They can take care of each other, and that will keep them all out of trouble." She might even be serious, though there is that indistinct curve to her lips. "More likely, the younger ones - such as it is, of course - will pick up any and all bad habits the older ones can teach them. I was hoping G'laer would work out, but..." Quinlys' dimpled smile abruptly turns to a scowl as she mentions the greenrider, about whom she has been uncharacteristically tight-lipped, except to say that she had been entirely wrong to believe he had potential. "Long breaks are all very well, but-- my mother laughed at me, you know, and reminded me of the thirty or forty-strong classes they used to have, but shells, I bet they had more assistants." Initial humor fades into something rather more wistful, or regretful, maybe; Tela winds one of her plaits about one finger, lets it be swallowed up, winds it around again. "I would hope so," she says with a sigh. "Or they were just used to it." It's not as though either one of them couldn't, or hasn't, noted in the Records just how many people a weyrlingmaster has had doing what-- but tonight's for the whiskey and the wonderings and a bemoaning or two. "I know someone," Telavi muses now, "who, when I come back after a day herding them around... has grumped about how at least I'm doing something useful while he's stuck doing more hidework." She glances back through her lashes; perhaps Quinlys might have an inkling of whom she might mean. Quinlys stretches out her foot, toes bare upon the solid wood of the table, and gives Telavi a glance, all raised eyebrows and smirky smiles. "He's still not back on proper duties? Hasn't it been a turn and more, now?" It's entirely likely that she knows more than she's saying; it's just so much more dramatic to say it like this. "Didn't he help when he was at Telgar?" Which is not a suggestion of interest. Sometimes, really truly, a question is just a question. To which Telavi lifts her hands in quick surrender, saying, "Don't ask me why, I'm not in charge." She doesn't say, 'Don't look at me like that.' "He did, some." Never mind the part where he got burned. "And who wouldn't rather work for you?" When she smiles like that, Tela might as well have more teeth than should fit in any one human's mouth. Quinlys' exhale resembles a 'huh' that hasn't quite been properly formed; the bluerider regards her drink instead of the greenrider for a few seconds, then takes a sip. "He might not rather. We're not exactly best of friends, of late," she points out, gaze flicking up towards those teeth and then away again, though it's fair to say they've not actually interacted much, so that could be good or bad. "Would he think it was collusion between you and me, if I offered him some work?" Beat. "Would he think it was charity?" "He mightn't," Telavi admits, but not as though she's resigned to it; she starts to work her own sandals off with her toes, one by one. "And he might. But! Just think of how much better you'd get along if you got more sleep." If their earlier falling-out had been before that first clutch stole their sleep, and if Quinlys getting more sleep might mean K'zin got less sleep for a potential net loss... she waves her hand, waves it away. "Imagine an afternoon nap while we still had sunshine. Mmm." "Sunshine," says Quinlys, emphasising it as if she's not seen the sun in weeks; as if she'd had no chance whatsoever to enjoy it, instead of a day off on a fairly regular basis, despite the busyness. "I won't end up catching you two christening this table or anything, right? If I ask him." It's still a big if, mind. She's looking... not dubious, perhaps, but certainly hesitant. Telavi really has to focus on her sandals now, and yes, she's blushing. "No, definitely not," she avows. "And you won't put him on a different night shift? If you ask him." If he says yes. Blushing! It's so much fun when people blush; if smugness could kill, well, Telavi would be dead by now. Quinlys streeeeeeetches out, languid and amused, and begins to laugh. "I suppose we could trial the pair of you working together," she muses. "If I decide I can stand to have him around. I trust you to be responsible, anyway." Telavi would have been dead so many times over. Now Tela says, "It's a shame, don't you think? The having-to-be-responsible part?" even as she walks her fingers towards Quinlys as long as the bluerider is stretching so dramatically and all. So far, she's just tickling air. Just in case, Quinlys shifts herself a little further from Telavi. Just in case. "Sometimes," she says, dramatically. "Like... having to leave the Weyr if I want to do anything fun, just to make sure none of my students see me." So lame. Her gaze slides down towards the table, as if she's imagining the fun things that could be done there, if one were to be less than responsible; her sigh is dramatic. The fingers bounce up and down upon the table: foiled! Foiled again! Tela may follow Quinlys' gaze, but then all of a sudden not; to the ceiling, "What's your favorite out-Weyr spot these days? Or-- who misses your delightful presence the most?" "That would be telling. If I tell you, I'll never get to escape and be completely unfindable," Quinlys points out, blue eyes turning upwards again, back to the greenrider. "Let's just say I've got my spots. And my... people." That gets Telavi looking back at the bluerider quickly enough, and then she's wounded. Wounded! "That sounds like you think I'd turn you in." Wounded and reproachful. "Trust no one!" No, okay, that's not really serious; Quinlys is grinning again. "No, not seriously. You'd never turn me in. Or hunt me down. Buuuuut that doesn't mean I don't like a bit of mystery, all the same." "Now that I can understand," says Telavi, and dimples. "Which reminds me," somehow, "about those silver threads..." And this? This is a topic Quinlys can get into, leaning forward to talk with, well, enthusiasm. |
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