Kitchen Raid

Western Weyr - Kitchen
Perhaps you followed your nose here.. the cooking aromas are tempting. This is the main kitchen of the Weyr. At any time of the day or night you find cooks and drudges busy making meals and preparing foodstuffs for storage for later use. The cavern has been shaped into a huge room with a domed ceiling. The huge ovens and cooking stoves line the outer wall, their perpetual fires fueled by natural gas from a nearby well. Vent holes pierce the cavern walls, keeping the room amazingly clear of smoke. The inner wall has long counters of smooth stone, carved from the walls. You see a large, heavy looking metal-clad door. This is the large cold storage room, much like a man-made ice cave. The walls are made of volcanic rock, known for it's insulating properties. The heat exchanger is also powered by natural gas.

Late evening at Western Weyr finds bluerider R'oy and Opicheskiduth checking in after a long mission on the other side of the world. Hungry and just a little bit drunk, he makes his way to the kitchen. It's empty except for the couple folks doing final cleanings and making preparations for tomorrow's meals. Food! The search and rescue rider is exhausted but has serious munches, not to mention wandering eyes for one particularly handsome dishwasher. "Make m'sammich?" is his slurred greeting, and with rolled eyes that dishwasher pushes R'oy towards a stool and heads to the cooler room to dig out one of the premade sandwiches chilling.

Solarus is also sneaking into the kitchen late, eyes wide and confused as he sees a drunk rider and the dishwasher. Of course he's trying to sneak passed them unnoticed towards the direction of a convenience refridgerator. Snacks, something edible, sustenence. Noms. He reaches into the ice box as discreetly as possible to gather ingredients for a sandwich of his own. He finds a plate, and quietly starts cutting slices from a loaf. Phew, sneaking a snack is hard.

Solarus does not go unnoticed. "Boy!!" R'oy's voice is loud, boisterous in the relative quiet of the kitchen. Uh-oh, better keep an eye on all your body parts! The bluerider leers at him. "C'mere, boy, you live here?" Not subtle. Not at all.

Solarus jumps about three feet and turns around, "I'm not stealing, I didn't have supper!" he extrapolates quickly, then boggles. "Yes, I live here," he says, and the waifish youth takes a generous step sideways so the man can see that yes, there is a butter knife on the counter, and yes, he will defend himself against drunkards. Weyrbred weyrbrat to the bitter end.

R'oy, being a bit inebriated, takes no offense. "Hey, hey, cool it man no harm no foul." Weyrbred weyrbrat once himself, he's just funning with ya, promise! The dishwasher swats R'oy playfully. "Leave him be, he's been here before, we know'im." R'oy continues to peer at Solarus thoughtfully. "You got spunk, kid."

Solarus moves his hand gently away from the butter knife. Then he winks at the cute dishwasher. Yep, he's been here before. "If you promise not to tell anyone I'm sneaking food after hours then I'll forget the whole thing," he says teasingly. "Honestly, they all think I'm starving myself or something. I just like to eat later," he shrugs a bit, and turns back to his bread cutting, though he looks back over his shoudler.

Solarus moves his hand gently away from the butter knife. Then he winks at the cute dishwasher. Yep, he's been here before. "If you promise not to tell anyone I'm sneaking food after hours then I'll forget the whole thing," he says teasingly. "Honestly, they all think I'm starving myself or something. I just like to eat later," he shrugs a bit, and turns back to his bread cutting, though he looks back over his shoulder from time to time.

The dishwasher shrugs, waving his hands. "No sneaking going on here!" Really, afterhours is the most fun in the kitchen. Long gone are the days when the weyrwoman trolled the kitchen as a baker, testing out recipes all night. Even then, of course, there were sneakers and filchers. Now, though, there are more. Not to mention drunken riders with the munchies, like R'oy. "Eating late's good for a man. Builds your muscle overnight!" Like he would know!

Solarus's skinny awkward puberty stricken build probably could use some muscle. "Do you think so?" He examines a petite bicep for any signs of muscle growth as he munches on his now made sandwich. Some cold cuts and a slice of cheese and a single wimpy lettuce leaf. Ahem. Some meal. At least the skinny wraith is eating something.

Somebody draconic gives R'oy a mental nudge, and he sighs gustily after the brief conference with his lifemate. "Fine fine Opi, I'm pretty sure he didn't beleive me anyway. Rude of you to jump in on my fun," the bluerider mutters annoyedlly, even as one of the morning prep cooks calls over, "Don't fall for that'un, boy, R'oy's full of crap." The bluerider grouses some more, taking a big bite of his sandwich to keep his mouth occupied.

Solarus finds where the klah pitcher is being kept and sneaks himself a cup before any adults can object. Hurrah! He then makes a little face at the bitterness. Oh. Wow. Thats. Interesting. But he's not going to stop drinking it. Not in front of the rider. "Not to worry," he says to the dishwasher, and shrugs. "Do you know my brother, M'dren? He's a blue rider here," he shrugs. "Does courier duty," he takes another sip. Eeek, this is bad. But he doesn't say a word.

R'oy ponders thoughtfully. "M'dren, you said?" He relays the name to Opi curiously, and the bluerider nods at Solarus. "Don't think I've met him myself but Opi knows the name." His eyes narrow and he peers more thoughtfully at Solarus. "How old are you?"

Solarus sets the klah cup down, discreetly, in order to take a bite of the sandwich. What do you know, he doesn't pick up the klah cup again. "Fifteen sir," he says. "My name is Solarus, but people call me Sol," he shrugs. "Or Russ. Or whatever they want I guess, but I like Sol. Sounds…I dunno. More like an artists name," he decides.

"Solarus, huh?" R'oy wrinkles nose at the name. "Weird name you have. But Opi likes it." Opi's name might be a little weird, so perhaps he likes weird names! "Well, you have a chance to change your name, boy. Opi wants you to be a candidate for my sister's clutch." Coughcough. "I uh… I don't have a white knot on me right now though."

Solarus looks up. Skeptically. "Good one," he says. A drunk rider, as he seemed to be before, is not going to get much leeway. "Is he serious?" he turns to look at the dishwasher for confirmation. Yeah, Solarus is that sort of kid. The kid whose had way too many jokes and pranks played upon him successfully and is rather tired of it by now. But then he looks a little hopefuly, and his face gets a sort of yearning look…almost begging. Please let it be real!

The dishwasher nods seriously at Solarus. "Better pick a good name, hot stuff." Jumping the gun a litle, maybe. "What do you think, Ree, the next F'lar sitting here, or is he gonna be another weirdo like S'rorn?" Ree, the prep cook, shudders. "No Rorn!" There is some surreptitious glancing around, as if looking for That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named aka Wilson. "So that a yes? Opi will let the candidate, ah, coordinators know. I'll um… find you a white knot in the morning, kay? Just go bunk down in the candidate quarters." No, he's not going to accompany him. Bad R'oy. Bad, bad R'oy.

Solarus actually tosses the rest of his sandwich back onto the counter in order to go and hug R'oy tightly. "Oh yes! I mean, its a yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You won't regret it, I promise, I'm going to do my best, and try not to be a..what did you say? A Rorn?" Whatever that is. He has no idea. "Thank you! Uh, good night! I'll go right now, and wait until my folks find out!" Gah, that'll be chaos. There are two parents, and eight children no less. "Thank you again! Goodnight!" He runs out, and runs back in again to grab the rest of his sandwich and then run back out again.

"Watch your tush!" the dishwasher calls when Sol jumps R'oy. Too late! The bluerider is copping a feel, though a moment later he's jumping away when the boy is rushing off. "Hope you're happy, Opi," he mumbles before grabbing his own sandwich and eating. Making muscles!

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