HATS.

Autumn in the South - Month 5 of Turn 2717
Xanadu Weyr - Main Clearing
A wide clearing stretches from east to west, the ground packed hard although grass grows across most of it. Trees are strictly forbidden in this space, their danger to the constant draconic traffic reason enough to banish them to the forest that creates a border to the north. Where the ground is less trampled, tiny flowers poke their delicate heads out from their shaded hiding places with upturned petals to wave to whoever may be looking.

The cliff looms imposingly on two sides. Toward the southwest, a spire stretches up to high above where the everpresent watchdragon sits on a lonely peak with Xanadu's Starstones. A massive rocky spur extends to the north, curved slightly to hold the clearing and pocked with doors and windows.

The hatching arena and Dragonhealers' Annex sit to the southeast, built together into a single complex that takes up a large portion of the perimeter beneath its domed roof. To the southwest, wide steps lead up to the caverns, and almost directly south is the entrance to the Infirmary. Nestled between the infirmary and the main caverns there's a human-sized archway with frequent traffic - it leads to the Wanderin' Wherry Tavern.

Tucked near the arch, just off to one side is a tiny wood-frame shop bearing the name 'Wildflower Boutique'. Windows have been cut along the cliff in various places along the cliff. Those of the administrative offices are placed to have the best view of Xanadu's airspace - to the southwest, over the entrance to the caverns and the infirmary. Others mark the dormitories and those of lucky residents, while toward the northern edge of that spur cluster the windows and entrances to the crafters' complex.

The rest of the Weyr lies to the north and east - a broad road that leads through the meadow and the trees of the forest beyond. At the far northern edge of the clearing, just inside the perimeter kept clear of trees, a clocktower sits and proudly displays the hour.


Nassir is laughing as he draws a no doubt grumbling R'sner along with him through the clearing, pausing a beat to squeeze his hand. "You wanted to see it," he reminds in merry tones. "And I am sure we can find Leirith here somewhere." Who knew T'sul would suddenly be proactive and deliver the hat ahead of schedule. Releasing the Weyrlingmaster's hand, Nassir's smile broadens as he steps in closer, his arm winding around R'sner's waist. "Besides, I'm dieing to see it on and your weyrlings are tucked in for the night." Or at least chilling out in the barracks. "Course, I fully expect that once you /see/ the hat you will demand one for yourself. It /is/ that glorious." And R'sner would not, in a million turns, ever consider wearing one and Nassir damned well knows it.

R'az comes in from the forest and he's on his way to the clearing. He spots Nassir and gives a wave to him, "Hey Nassir, didn't expect to see you here. What brings you to Xanadu?" He asks as he heads over to the pair. He nods to R'sner, "Hello there. I'm R'az, Bronzerider of Dolth."

"Yes, I did want to see it," admits the weyrlingmaster who is, indeed, looking a touch grumpy at being dragged through the field as though against his will, if just because, "I had hoped to do so /without/ the dragon," because Leirith has a reputation, and somehow (miraculously) R'sner has failed to experience the bombastic queen to her fullest extent and is perhaps not terribly eager to do so. Of weyrlings and hats and whether or not he will want one, there is no comment; though that side-eye says well enough his thoughts on the matter (though he does not contest the arm that winds around him). It is a look that alters at the appearance of the bronzerider, changed from disgruntled to neutral as he considers the greeting a moment before offering, "R'sner, with green Toith. Weyrlingmaster at Half Moon Bay," and then a pass of his gaze from dragonrider to tailor, and back again. "Half Moon's duties to Xanadu and her queens," because while R'az may not be wearing the insignia or knot of a Xanadu dragonrider, Res will just err on the side of caution.

LOOK OUT BELOOOOOOOOW! It's not hard to find Leirith - not in her own weyr, not where she's the BOSSEST QUEEN (think about that for a second, let that sink in DOOOOM!) and the loudest dragon to boot. Welcome to Xanadu Weyr, where unsuspecting Half Moonian Weyrlingmasters and their hat-giving, ridiculously adorable weaver companions are greeted FIRST by sweet R'az, and then by the bombastically sunbright, full of bass and too damn many drums, « MINION. IT IS AN EMERGENCY. I CANNOT FEEL MY TOES. » And perhaps Risali has developed some kind of understanding that means she speaks aloud to Leirith in company because one sided conversations can get awkward with a quickness — or maybe Risali got the herald report of who the hell was in her skies and abandoned her office to RAISE SOME PROVERBIAL HELL. RUN BOYS. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES And there she is, a tiny thing full of too much attitude, moving with the kind of confidence in her walk that says you don't want to mess with this one even as she calls out, "You don't have toes, Leirith!" There's a pause, a whisper of humor as if Leirith is just considering this and only just realized the truth of it, and then she's broadcasting, « GAH! MINION! I DON'T HAVE TOES. » Laughter; it echoes wide, rebounding in every skull with a ricochet of too much sound and too much giddy delight. And THERE she is, the mustard-colored, boxy queen, a tall dam with a wingspan that seems to threaten at the borders of forever in a very. large. hat. It's beautiful, but obnoxious (in the best way possible), full of 'feathered plumage' (IT'S CLOTH, BUT ARTFULLY DONE) that spans the impossible length of Leirith's neck and sits in place with the assistance of gold-embroidered straps. There's gold lace delineating the upper brim — antique and beautiful - and a shiny white stoned broach to give it that much more flavor. And while Risali is small, there's certainly something big about the dark-haired woman as she takes not-nearly-long-enough strides to intercept Nassir, R'az, and R'sner. "You," she says, one accusing finger getting too close as she invades Nassir's space without a thought to his comfort. And then that finger is flung outward, toward the disturbance in the bowl who's delightedly coming closer. "This is your fault. Take it back." A beat, and then a flickering glance for R'sner, for R'az. "Hello," she says, distracted because she is, looking at Nassir WITH EXPECTATIONS ON HER FACE. « MINION, TELL HIM I SAID THANK YOU. » "He can hear you." Sigh.

R'az blinks as he hears the bombastic gold's voice in his head without the help of his dragon. He looks around to see if Dolth is around and he doesn't see the bronze yet. His eyes go wide as he sees the large hat that is adorning the gold's head. "Where did they find enough material." He looks over to Nassir as the Senior Weyrwoman comes into view with her finger wagging in the other man's face. He gives a sharp salute to the Weyrwoman, "Good day Weyrwoman, I hope you are doing well. It sounds like your dragon is doing good. Sorry to hear about her lack of digits, but her newest accessory is divine."

Nassir blinks once at the sound of a familiar voice, his head tilting as he raises a hand in a wave to R'az. "We've been here a few times, actually." With R'sner introducing himself, Nassir settles comfortably against his side. "We're here to see Leirith," he informs the bronze rider. At the side-eye from the Weyrlingmaster, his lips twitch in a wry smile, his brows rising and falling in an easy lilt. It's the very LOUD appearance of Leirith that brings his gaze sweeping upward, a broad smile tracing over his lips. "And she appears," he notes in tones that are utterly delighted upon spying the hat. Of course, when Risali is there in his space — and R'sner's if only due to proximity — he bursts out with his own delighted laugh. "Never, Weyrwoman," he assures in emphatic tones. "She is glorious." At Leirith's thanks, he inclines his head, dark eyes shining as he looks back up at her. "It is my pleasure," he assures the dragon. Without missing a beat, he turns an oh-so-innocent expression on Risali and notes. "I'd be happy to make you one to match?"

R'sner probably could have lived his entire life quite happily without experiencing the delight that is Leirith. He might even wince, physically wince, at the exchange of toes, and the lack of feeling them (and the lack of HAVING them) and all. Deep breaths. In. Out again. And NOT as an exasperated sigh, either. "Ah…" because while Leirith might be impressive and invasive, nothing really compares to the (tiny) ball of righteous fury that is Risali. Who is, indeed, invading his space as she invades Nassir's space with accusing tones and accusing fingers, neither of which he is especially fond of but can't seem to do anything about. If there is a tightening of his arm, it is likely because all of him is tense in this moment. But at least he has enough self-preservation to greet her with a (albeit forced) polite, "Hello, Risali." Of hats and fabulous gold dragons, he does not speak; but there is definitely more than a few glances stolen of the queen in her finery.

The smile that Risali fixes on R'az is tight - not because she's taken offense to him or his words, but because have you seen Leirith? AND THAT HAT. AND NASSIR. "R'az, if you call me Weyrwoman one more time, I am putting that hat on you." MUCH DANGER, SUCH THREAT. "It's Risali. Faranth help me, this Weyr has gone mad." A beat as hands go to hips, as grey eyes dart back to Nassir looking EVEN LESS AMUSED when he laughs before she delivers a wry, "This is your fault, Weaver." But there's a hint of a smile at the end of the words, a mischief in her expression as she reaches out to give him a gentle, well-intended push, attention momentarily back on R'az. "Do not encourage her, please." BUT IT'S TOO LATE. « ANOTHER WHO APPRECIATES DELICACIES. MINION, BE MORE LIKE THIS MAN. » "That is not a - Leirith stop." Too late for that too; the queen is lowering her head, invading ALL OF THE SPACE, booping R'az, and R'sner, and Nassir as she NUDGES RISALI OUT OF THE WAY if any of them aren't quick enough to TUCK AND ROLL, EVASIVE MANEUVERS! GOGOGOGO! MAN-FORMERS, ROLL OUT! So it's from around that be-hatted head that Risali suddenly PEEKS UP, all accusational fury as she breathes out a hissed, "Don't you dare," for Nassir's threats. Leirith nudges her aside again, earning them all a moment's reprieve. « I HAVE DECIDED THAT I UNCHOOSE MY MINION, AND YOU SHALL BE MY NEW MINION, MINION. WE WILL RIDE THE SKIES IN OUR HATS." Jusssst kidding, here comes Risa! "He's a man, Leirith. He can't ride a queen." « SO SAYS YOU, OLD MINION. NEW MINION, MAKER OF BADASS HATS, COME. WE WILL RUN AWAY TOGETHER AND MAKE AN ARMY OF HAT-APPRECIATING ASS-BAD-AYS. WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS, MINE? CANTELOPING, YES. LET US CANTELOPE, MINION! » Cue Risali shoving at the dragon's head, making a face that might be half apology as she turns her attention back to R'sner. "Hello, R'sner!" She manages to sound cheerful, even with a massive snoot pressing into her back, pushing her forward despite booted heels digging into the ground. "How's Half Moon? How are the Weyrlings?"

R'az bows his head, "Anything you say Risali." He doesn't want to explain to Jaya or Laria why the Weyrwoman kicked him out for calling her Weyrwoman. He figures he'll throw in a good word for Dolth cause why not. "Dolth too loves your hat, he thinks that it's the very height of high fashion and perhaps you could pick out a hat for him to wear." Somewhere in the waters near the beach there is a bronze who's innocently playing with dolphins getting signed up for something he doesn't know about, but he soon will. R'az turns to Nassir, "So I see. You've really made an impression. Do you want to be called Weyrwoman or would you prefer to be called just Nassir?" He asks teasingly as he doesn't think a gold can just choose a new rider, but who knows with Leirith, she's a maverick.

"Yes," Nassir agrees readily to being purely at fault for the hat. "It is entirely my fault." At the gentle push, his smile broadens, dark eyes delighted as they sweep up to R'sner's face. When he looks back it is to find Leirith's massive be-hatted head right there in front of him and there is just no chance that his smile does not grow. Huge. It's huge, that smile. "I fear I am hardly glorious enough to do you justice, Leirith," he states. "But rest assured…" And here, he pauses long enough to slant an oh-so-sweet smile at Risali. "I will consider it my duty to ensure that your chosen minion has a hat fabulous enough to do justice to your own. And I think the word you are looking for is Eloping," he provides in those same merry tones. With R'sner's arm tense around his shoulders, he smooths his hand over the Weyrlingmaster's hip, the gesture one of habitual soothing. At R'az's teasing, he chokes for a moment before exhaling another breathy laugh, his brows twitching mildly. "I think we'll stick with Nassir," he assures.

Nassir is laughing and smiling, and R'sner just looks… sort of torn between mortified and defensive; expression flying through a range of emotions that never seems to settle on anything appropriate for this rather unique, unprecedented scenario. "Mm, that sounds familiar," is murmured in a low, dry tone of voice as Res shoots Nassir a look as Risali warns R'az away from encouraging bad behavior in dragons. At least Toith doesn't wear hats (no, she just wears mud, and blood, and viscera, and all manner of other unmentionable things). He seems to have no real words for this occasion, and whatever might come is quickly cut off or bit back or simply thought better of as others speak instead. It is the invasion of Leirith's fabulously be-hatted head that has him gritting his teeth and doing his damnedest not to glower (because glowering at a queen would be poor form indeed) even as his space is being so thoroughly invaded there is no possible chance of him relaxing, even with that soothing hand at his hip. "Ah…" That would be for Leirith's declaration that Risali is out and Nassir is in. And then another "Uhm…"comes for the Cantelope versus Elopement being proposed between the pair, a quick "Er…" for the bronze dragon wanting a hat (unbenknownst to said bronze), and finally a bit of a snort for R'az's offering to call Nassir weyrwoman. A frown appears to have become his default expression, though it is rather uncanny how much can be expressed in such a thing. From contemplation to confusion to outright disgruntled disagreement. He does not even try to force a smile for Risali, but does deign to respond with a polite enough, "They are well, thank you. Have begun to fly and hunt on their own. Another month and their riders will fly with them," because apparently he CAN talk about his weyrlings, even if talking about anything else has devolved into guttural sounds of acknowledgement or disagreement.

Risali's response to R'az's formality is DAGGER EYES (with a dash of humor to soften the blow), where as Leirith is full-throttle, I'M ABOUT TO MAKE YOU ALL DEAF exaltation, an explosion of sound, a crash of headache inducing music, an amplification of an already sunbright personality gone electric. « DOLTH SOUNDS LIKE A BADASS. » Laughter follows - well-intentioned, cheerful, endless, undaunted despite the fact that whirling eyes maybe are perceptive enough to pick up on R'sner's body language without doing the polite thing and BEEP BEEP, backing that rump up. No, Leirith remains, caught in a metaphorical tug-of-war with her lifemate that ends when Leirith suddenly rears her head up and Risali, without the support of that massive snout, finds herself on her ass. Jarringly. "Faranth," comes on a hiss of sound that alludes to smarting pain, a glowering look turned towards her dragon and then repurposed as dissuasion for Nassir. LOOK AT HER EYES, MAN. SEE DEATH IN THEM. But it fades as amusement wins, first making her smile, then laugh as she regains her footing with what little dignity she has left to muster. "Deal, if only because I'm going to make one or both of my weyrmates wear it to some stuffily political function." And maybe she secretly thinks that the hats are gorgeous. There's a hiccup of laughter that Risali hides behind one hand for the inquiry of what R'az should be calling Nassir in light of NEW PROMOTIONS, and then Risali's attention is zeroing in on R'sner and his lack of a smile. A beat, two, three, and then a soft smile - a softer, "You don't approve." It's not a question, it's a statement, one that's delivered as Risali's attention turns back to her queen and the tips of small fingers find their way along the ridges of eyes and along a boxy jaw. Leirith half settles, her voice quieting but no less bombastic, no less broadcasted out into the world. « You do not give yourself enough credit, new minion. You are perfectly badass enough, and I am plenty sure it's cantelope. » OKAY OKAY OKAY. (And yes, I am aware it's cantaloupe I PROMISE OKAY)

R'az ahs, "Too bad, it'd be interesting to see how the rest of the Weyr would react to the change in leadership." He keeps his light teasing tone of voice, "All right it seems that informal does work the best around here. Good to hear about the weyrlings and their progress. It's an especially exciting time when the flying starts." He winces a bit as even that explosion of sound is too much for him. "He'll be glad you think so. He's down at the beach right now, swimming with the dolphins. He's probably getting some dolphin secrets out of them." He says in a conspiratorial tone. "Perhaps you can help design the hat that Dolth should wear. I was thinking of something oh what's it called." He pauses for a moment and looks up. "I read about it in a book from Ancient Earth…ah yes. A cowboy hat. Very badass."

Nassir has, over the few months, learned to speak grunt and turns an amused expression up to R'sner's face. When the Weyrlings are spoken of, his smile warms, his chin dipping in a quick nod of agreement. "They are doing splendidly," he adds in proud tones. And then Risali is on her rump and Nassir is caught off guard enough that, for a moment, he simply stares at her in shock. "Are you alright?" Oooh, the death glare has him lightly clearing his throat and pressing just a shade closer to R'sner. Fortunately, she's up and laughing and deciding she does want a hat. "Perfect," Nassir agrees. "I'll send two, so you can get them in one fell swoop." At the observation directed toward R'sner, he glances up and smiles still warmly, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, no, that is his default expression when he is trying to take it all in and process." Leirith's comment inspires a wink being tossed her way, his delight with the queen clear in his gaze. "Alas, O glorious queen, I fear I am as spoken for as it is likely to get. I am, however, utterly fabulous, on that we agree. I am content with the honor of being dressmaker to the queen."

Nope. Nothing about this situation screams acceptable to R'sner, which is why he remains resolutely unrelaxed but distinctly unmoving even as Leirith continues to invade his personal space with all the subtly of a freight train. Physical space, and mental space, which is perhaps the worst of it. A tightening of his eyes is as much of a 'wince' that he'll give outwardly, but there are probably more than a few mental walls being hastily erected between the weyrlingmaster's mind and the headache-inducing enthusiasm. Toith? No help. Finding it rather amusing all things considered (and totally glad she's not being offered-up as a hat-wearing tribute. Poor Dolth). Death-glares from Risali are much less effective when she's on her butt in the dirt, but nonetheless there's a glance and perhaps a reassuring squeeze of his arm around Nassir's shoulders? Though really, he's so dang tense, how would he tell the difference? No more words, though he'll offer a noncommittal "Mm," for the excitement that is weyrlings flying. And then he gives in to the exasperation that has been threatening to leak out, a sigh emitted and a hand lifted; fingers pressed to his forehead as though to ward off a migraine (for cowboy hats). There is no safety here, so why even pretend? And so back to the crowd at hand. Eyebrows up first, a look directed at Risali that is caught somewhere between sarcastic and surprised. "I don't?" approve. But it is not a question either, but somewhat of a repetition of her own statement. That he does not approve. But whether he does, or not, the result is the same in that there is a drift of his gaze toward the queen and back to queen/rider/ when he decides, "Does it matter?" Because he knows it doesn't. His approval, or lack of it, means utterly nothing in Xanadu. "Default?" because perhaps he has not realized that he has such a thing. But that's apparently the extent of his vocal abilities right now.

D'lei … is not wearing a hat. Which is a shocking oversight, really; you'd think he'd have caught the trend from Leirith, and yet. What he is doing is making his way out from the more crafterly side of the caverns, and in yet another failure of forethought he's not taking the opportunity to run for the woods! Nope. Instead, he's actually heading over to… a hat! Oh, and a Leirith, too, because she's too mighty a mustard to be overwhelmed by even such a hat as that. His gaze shifts from the gold to her rider with a smile for both, then on to R'az, then… ah, there's R'sner of the burgeoning headache, who gets a slight nod before it's on to the haberdasher supreme! D'lei grins to Nassir. "I see you keep your promises," he says by way of greeting, then tilts his head back to glance at Leirith again before looking to Risali. "Wasn't there something about Weyr Games?" he asks her. "Think there'll be a fashion show?"

Leirith's attention is on R'az, be-hatted head tilting to the side, sending plumage falling at angles that threaten to sweep against the ground before she shifts that massive body and booms more laughter. NOBODY IS SAFE. « Am-badass-ador to the dolphins! ONE OF SUCH IMPORT MUST HAVE AN IMPORTANT HAT. » So much for the reduction in volume. But Leirith's voice never slides towards scathing sarcasm; she's just always happy, as if there's no other emotion that the effervescent dragon was hatched capable of experiencing. She's just… indiscriminately fond of everybody. POOR RISALI. POOR R'SNER. POOR NASSIR, AND R'AZ, AND EVERY SINGLE INHABITANT OF XANADU WEYR EVER. As for whether or not Risali is alright, the Weyrwoman is holding out one hand and laughing harder — because of course she's the kind of lacking-in-dignity human being that gets asked after by sweet, innocent crafters. "I'm fine," she assures him. "You'd probably have a heartattack if you saw - nevermind." Lips come together in another smile, Leirith inserts herself once more to BOOP Nassir with an approving snoot, and momentarily steals back the show. WITH HER FABULOUS HAT, OK. « NEW MINION, YOU CANNOT MAKE EGGS WITH ME, THAT IS SILLY. ALSO, MY DOLTH, MY ZEKATH, MY XERMILTOTH, MY ILYSCAETH, AND MY GAROUTH REQUIRE HATS. MY OLD MINION WILL COMPENSATE YOU WITH REALLY, REALLY NAUGHTY — » "Annnnd, that's enough!" But IS IT? Leirith broadcasts more laughter, and infectious though it may be, Risali fights it off so that those grey eyes can fix on R'sner and then come alive when he chooses sarcastic-surprise. "I have a feeling that you're actually really funny, R'sner." SHE'S ONTO YOU. And answering his question as her expression goes almost soft, ruined by a hint of mischief. "Everybody's opinion matters, R'sner, even if nobody listens. For example, I think Leirith looks ridiculous, and she disagrees." « THAT IS BECAUSE YOUR OPINION DOES NOT MATTER, AND THAT IS WHY I HAVE DIVORCED YOU AS MY MINION. » BADUM, TSH. Laughter. And a crushing gold head that comes right on down to be-hat D'lei's head for him and possibly murder him. Whichever comes first, both if possible. Risali watches, and then bites back humor by literally sinking teeth into her bottom lip. "If there is, I dare you to go in just the hat sweet Nassir here's been commissioned to make for you. You should probably pay him." All innocent sing-song, all VERY RUDE.

"Always," Nassir provides to D'lei with an easy smile. "It's good to see you, again." Without missing a beat, his gaze sweeps up to R'sner and he winks in reference to 'Default'. "It's adorable," he assures in warm tones. And then there is a Leirith and his expression is ridiculously adoring, then he's choking at the suggestion of 'really, really, naughty' recompense. "Oh my. And yes, I am afraid commissions have been made," he asides to D'lei. "You will not be disappointed." Back to Naughty, he grins at Leirith, who is currently D'lei's hat and notes. "Remind me one day to tell you about the straps I made for a rider at Igen." Which is promptly followed with. "Dolth would look quite dashing in a cowboy hat." And then. "I'm going to need a good bit more leather." Which prompts him side eye toward R'sner. "Alot more leather," is murmured almost under his breath. There goes those naughty thoughts, again. Leirith's fault entirely.

R'az gives a nod to D'lei as he comes out, "Good day." His attention snaps back to Leirith so fast that his neck is going to be sore in the morning. "Dolth and I both thank you, I'm sure he'll be both honored and happy to know that he's the Am-badass-ador to the dolphins. He love them so much, them and the weyrlings, although I do try to keep him away so he's not interfering with them. He's content to watch from a distance though and meet them on the beach when he can." R'az is an independent rider and doesn't want to get on the bad side of the Weyr that his family has chosen as their home and one he's not an official rider of. "I think he would too, although I'd I'll have to remind him he can't wear it in the water. Let me know how much it will be. I thank the beautiful Queen for her generosity, but I would not want to put her minion…" He coughs, "I mean Risali out any. I'd be happy to cover the cost for Dolth's hat and perhaps one for myself." He tosses in.

« Those involve a different kind of… hat. » Garouth is not here, and he's not in your head… unless your head is Leirith's, or D'lei's, or maybe a splashover into Risali's… but his dark shadows are amused in their warm breeze of thought. « Not that they wear them. » But will Garouth wear the hat that Leirith's demanded for him? Maybe. D'lei will certainly wear the head of gold who wears a hat, because he's a double-hatted hatter who got these muscles by being crushed by dragons. He laughs, reaching up to rub at Leirith's jaw as she squooshes him, then peeks past her to Nassir once more. "It's good to see you, too," he catches up in conversation. "Though I'm not entirely sure I want to see the bill." D'lei grins. "Though, if the hat you make is as suited to me as Leirith's is to her… I'm sure I won't be. Nor Risali, either." He's amused in tone, entirely unabashed even as his weyrmate challenges him to such scandalousnesses that will probably make sure the more … conservative … weyrleading sorts make sure there's no such competition to be had. R'sner can be the agent of propriety and make sure of it! Unless he's distracted by all that leather, at least. Which, speaking of… huh. "Will you take part of the payment in trade?" he asks Nassir. "We've got some leathers that aren't quite quality for straps…" And if this dragon-hat thing is going to be, well, a thing…

Is the fact that it's adorable better? R'sner seems undecided, though really, the predominant emotion is sullen resignation. Which just gets worse when Leirith defies the grump to NOSE BOOP him. "Er…" and now, at least, he will forfeit a bit of space, taking a half step back (and probably dragging Nassir back with him). He holds no ill will toward the queen, however. Nor her rider, despite the doom and gloom expression taking up residence upon his face. But yes. There is definitely a migraine coming on, assisted by all of that effervescence and unstoppable joy if just because it's a rather LOUD joy that is now bouncing around in his skull. A quiet, "Mm," for the importance of his opinion; neither declination nor acceptance but simply an acknowledgement that he heard her. He's at least polite enough (or maybe just mortified enough) not to comment on Leirith's payment for hats coming in the form of illicit acts performed by the Weyrwoman, and instead turns his attention to the arriving D'lei. As if he's going to rescue him (he's not, and he knows it). "Weyrleader," is offered in that stiff, forced politeness that says words have become rather difficult all around. And then it just devolves from there. Or, well. Can it devolve if it was never very 'evolved' in the first place? This seems to be of more importance to consider than the fact that Nassir is giving him side-eyes and murmuring about leather in a manner that has all of that tight-eyed, tight-jawed tight-shouldered, statue-impression of his going full throttle. Great. Joy. Just wonderful. Never mind that said-tailor is getting enough work to keep him busy for the next few months, if not the next turn. That's fantastic, too, says the flat expression on R'sner's face.

"Absolutely," Nassir assures D'lei with an easy smile. "I prefer to work in trade whenever possible." As for Leirith's hat, it was a gift and he will entertain no talk of compensation. When he's drawn back, he tucks his head against R'sner's chest and does his level best to cover a yawn. Still, it's there and he can literally feel the tension washing off his companion. That being the case, he tilts his head up, his lips twitching into a quieter smile. "Could I trouble you to bring me home? It's getting late." Looking back at D'lei, Risali, Leirith and R'az, his smile remains relaxed. "Send me word to Igen who wants hats and I will see what I can do. In the meantime," he adds to Risali. "I will work on a pair for your weyrmates." Tilting his chin up, his smile turns warmer as he looks at Leirith. "I am so pleased you enjoy the hat Leirith, you look resplendent."

« USUALLY THE DOLPHINS SWIM FAST FROM ME. YOUR DOLTH MUST BE QUITE THE BADASS TO ENGAGE SO MANY BADASSES IN THEIR BADASSERY. » SEE? Praise from the queen all day. Quite the opposite of her minion, actually. Risali rollllls her eyes real slow, attention settling on R'az as hands come to hips that jut that bespeaks a hint of attitude, one brow rising as the Senior Weyrwoman considers that she's just been called minion by somebody she outranks, and then she's reaching out to slap him in the arm — very, very gently. Then she's throwing that hand back, fingers curling and uncurling as she demands, "Alright, Leirith, off with the hat. R'az is about to learn a very valuable lesson in informality." « HE IS TOO BADASS FOR THIS LESSON, MINION. HE AND HIS DOLTH WILL SHAME YOU, DISAPPOINTMENT. » A delicate sniff, but Risali smiles - first for R'az, then for her dragon as she reaches over to shove at her maw, intent to remove her person from D'lei's person. NO LUCK. The queen turns into those hands with a croon of contentment, greets shadows with a tempo that simply crescendos in excitement as Leirith sets them to dancing with bass and drums - a somewhat grotesquely creepy abuse of what dragon minds can do when they meld together, a hint of Leirith to be found in the shadows of dancers as they race to hide in foliage and behind trees. « DID YOU SEE MY HAT, MY GAROUTH? YOU SHOULD WEAR ONE. IT WILL MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU KNOW HOW TO MAKE BABIES. » Amusement, dragon-kin adoration, not reserved merely for the bronze despite all recipients are only hearing one side of a conversation now. « Our sands will be full of eggs! » But there's talk of leather, and men in leather, and Risali's turning an expression gone wicked onto Nassir with a lilting drawl of, "Well, go on then. I'm listening." And maybe reaching out to side-kick D'lei's boot with her own, greeting him with a too-bright smile and a too-innocent, "I can't help that you and K'vir should be outlawed. I didn't make your asses look that good in leathers." OKAY. But the weaver is fading, and Risali is waving, Leirith snootbooping him. « AND YOU LOOK CERTIFIABLY BADASS, NEW MINION. » "Clear skies."

An opportunity to flee? R'sner is going to grab it with both hands and RUN. Although not literally, because that would be very unprofessional and rude. "Yes," because one-word answers are all that's going to come from him at this time. And so there is a curt (but polite!) nod of his head to those present, a quick, "Excuse us," that at least acknowledges that they are leaving, and then a quick taking of Nassir's hand and some very quick but not running strides toward the waiting Toith (who is having a field day even if she does not want a hat of her own.)

"Xanadu's best to Half Moon," D'lei replies to R'sner's greeting, insufferable in cheer like a morning person or someone who's somehow become immune to Leirith-mediated headaches. How does he do it? Can it be learned, or do you need to be some kind of mutant to start with? Whatever the answer, he's not going to reveal it now. He does, however, reach out to hook his arm around Risali as she tries to push Leirith off - which fails, but, it means Risali comes into range to be pulled in against his side with a warm squeeze. Now he's got TWO PERSONS on his person! VICTORY. And creepy shadow puppets that emerge as a visualizer of bass and drums, what's even going on here. (It's Leirith, that's what.) « It would be accurate. » So Garouth says! D'lei, well, he just grins and nods to Nassir. Trade is so much easier than trying to figure out the abstract value of marks. "We'll be in touch!" he agrees, with a wave of farewell for Nassir and R'sner both as they head out. D'lei gives Risali another squeeze, shifting his gaze back to her. "Indeed you didn't… you just replaced the leathers with a half-size tighter." He grins to her, then… what's this? A meek and shy voice? That's like the opposite of Leirith, which means… it's very logical she's attracted to come look! Or something like that, anyow. "Hello!" he says brightly, like he's some random guy instead of the Weyrleader. "Looking for something, or just looking?" For which he points to Leirith, because… she's a looker. Especially in that hat. Who even puts a hat on a dragon?


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