All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

27-05-01: Eat
Hanneke maintains a merry gait as she strides from the Lower Caverns passage, the faintest evidence of a skip evident...

Hanneke maintains a merry gait as she strides from the Lower Caverns passage, the faintest evidence of a skip evident through the exuberant movement that takes her to the serving tables, at which point she pours herself a glass of juice, slushing it over the edge with a giggle of amusement. The candidate-harper turns, more juice dripping down her fingers, greeting the room with her oft-heard note--"Hihi!"

Lysse nods with a smile towards Hanneke.

Kr'lin nods slowly at Lysse's response, having, yet again, been caught with a partially chewed mouthful. This time, he doesn't really wait for the food to be completely swallowed, "True, true.. There are boats. But still. Quite awhile for a probationary apprentice to be away from the Hall." Hanneke is just too energetic for Kr'lin to acknowledge, especially this early in the morning.

Lysse says, "I haven't started classes yet so I am free to travel for awhile.""

Apt, really. Far too energetic. Hanneke, however, has no such scruples as ensuring that those who find it too early aren't stuck with her insatiable cheerfulness. It just so happens that she selects that particular table, setting down her slopping glass in front of her as she primly inserts herself within a seat. "Hihi!" is repeated, as she watches between the pair.

Lysse says, "My name is Lysse. Are you a candidate?" Lysse turns her attention to the girl who just sat down."

Kr'lin points at the spillage in front of Hanneke, "Hope you are going to clean that up." See, if she's going to be in a good mood, then he has to be in a grumpy one to bring symmetry back into the cavern. As for Lysse, he ahhs and nods, again, "You'd think they'd start you training right away. But then, I've never been in a Craft, so I wouldn't know."

Lysse says, "I'm studing the scrolls right now. I will be starting classes in maybe a week.""

Hanneke's expression is all but guilty as she glances at the juice puddles upon the table. "Oh! yes!" Unfortunately, she doesn't get as far as cleaning it up, her attention being caught by Lysse's question. "Yes! I'm Hanneke, and I'm a candidate! And a Harper." A dainty sip of her juice is taken, a round mark showing upon the table top where the glass once sat.

Lysse says, "Thats wonderful. I'm a probationary apprentice at healer hall.""

Kr'lin points at the ring of juice and gently reminds Hanneke, "See, you've made a mess now. Nothing worse than a messy Living Cavern." And to further the cause, "And while you're up getting something to clean your mess, how about taking my plate over there?" He points in the general direction of the kitchens, bound to be some place to deposit dirty dishes, there usually is. "Been a Healer long?" Time to continue the general chitchat.

Vivyca walks in slowly, her arms clasped tightly behind her back as she glances around the Cavern, almost warily.

Lysse says, "no. That is obvious since I am only probationary. I have only just gotten accepted.""

A candidate's work is never done. Hanneke positively beams towards Lysse, claiming, "I lived there! Well, at the Harper Hall, but still! Very cool place, isn't it?" Alas, Kr'lin's words do sink in, and, with a meaningless pout, she rises again, taking the plate, before skipping--really skipping--across the caverns to put it away. Well, leave it sitting on a bench. Still. A napkin, formerly covering a plate of muffins, is grabbed, and she brings it back to the table, to rest atop the stain. There.

Vivyca tenses slightly, sensing the attention

Kr'lin finds himself without the mouthful of food excuse, so he nods, takes a sip from his mug of cooling klah, "Wouldn't know, never been in a craft. Not very likely to either." Riders not being allowed in them and all. Hanneke gets a, "Hey, now you left those muffins uncovered. Now they are going to cool down faster than normal. Not to mention the germs..."

Hanneke peers at Kr'lin, at the napkin on the table, and then, most finally, at the muffins. "I'll put it back!" she assures, doing just that: the now-sopping napkin is lifted up, and she stands once more, skipping brightly back to the basket of muffins, and placing it down tidily once more. "See!" On her way back, she happens to notice Vivyca, beaming brilliantly in that direction.

Kr'lin is almost horrified at Hanneke's response to his comment. She didn't.. No.. She couldn't.. Another look at the muffins and the soiled napkin on top, "I hope you plan on eating those muffins..."

Vivyca notices Henneke's expression and nods slightly, acknowledging the girl's gesture.

Hanneke did. "Eat them?" she repeats, blankly, her vacuous expression as vacuous as ever as she regards Kr'lin, confused. Vivyca's nod is given another, brilliance-enfused grin--that'd be about normal.

Kr'lin dips his head, then shakes it side to side. Hanneke's energy and obtuseness apparently draining him of his small energy reserves, "Yes. Since no one else is going to eat them, it might as well be the person that made them so." Really, a soiled napkin.

Vivyca 's expression hardens once again as she turns from the others, leaving the way she came.

"Why won't they eat them?" asks Hanneke, flumoxed at the very idea; that would be entirely wasteful, after all. "I don't see why they won't! They looked like good muffins. I bet you'd like one, wouldn't you, sir?"

Kr'lin shakes his head emphatically, "No, I wouldn't. Maybe earlier, but not now.. Now that you've gone and put a dirty napkin on them." And, to combat that wastefullness, Kr'lin reiterates, "Why don't you eat them? You could do with some meat on your bones."

Hanneke shakes her head back and forth, a stray strand of tawny hair falling from its elaborate styling against her face. Rapidly, she pins it back into place, noting, "It was just a napkin. You told me not to let them get cold!" She shakes her head again, confused. "Muffins aren't made of meat."

Kr'lin nods, slowly, "Yes.. I did tell you that they would get cold, but I didn't tell you to use the same napkin you used to clean up your mess to recover them with. So, yet again.. Why don't you have 'em? Can't have them going to waste and all." As for the meat bit, "I didn't ask you to wear them." Might as well get her even more confused if he can.

He can. "You didn't," she agrees, latching onto something she can, somewhat, understand, although that's a very basic idea to say the least. "I didn't know that!" is insisted, her head bobbing rapidly. "You didn't *say* to put something else on top. I don't want them. They'll make me fat."

Kr'lin ahas as she stumbles into the very meaning of his prior comment, "Exactly. You are far too skinny, so therefore, you should eat the muffins." Okay, not the reason he was using before, so he'll tie that one in as well, "And since, they'll go to waste unless you do eat them..."

Hanneke counters the argument with one of her own. Weak--shallow--illogical--"Then you'll have to eat them with me!" she decides, nodding her head enthusiasticly. "And we'll both not-waste, and not be skinny."

Kr'lin arches an eyebrow and looks down at his barrel shaped form, "Being skinny is not something that I have to worry about. Besides, I just had breakfast, I couldn't eat another bite." Not true, but still, he has to make up some reason for not wanting to eat the muffins. Aside from the obvious one, that is. "Besides, dragonets like healthy candidates. I'd hate to see you not Impress because you hadn't eaten a few muffins." There you go, use the dragon eggs as incentive.

Hanneke isn't known for having the most sensible of ideas, it must be noted. "I had breakfast, too," she counters, grasping onto the argument. "And I don't like citron muffins; they taste all..." she hesitates, ponders, then finishes, "sour." The eggs argument is greeted with a raised eyebrow, and she insists, "I'm healthy!"

Kr'lin peers at Hanneke and notes, for the record, "Really? I didn't see you have breakfast." And here he thought he came in just as breakfast was being served, "Must not be working you candidates hard enough then.. Since you are apparently able to wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed long before dawn." The healthy part is answered with, "Naw, I can see bones sticking out from under your skin. Very unhealthy appearance."

Caught. Hanneke pouts. "I--" Don't have an answer for that. Smiling her prettiest, the young woman responds, "I don't eat breakfast; I don't much like it." Smile turns horrified: she shrinks back, running a hand across her shoulders, crossing them in front of her. "No!" Bones, hideous things.

Kr'lin hmms and nods his head, knowingly, "That would explain the visibility of bones. You are practically malnourished. Definitely not going to Impress a dragon." He's going to have to forget to mention Sissi, probably the most anorexic person that he has ever seen. "Better eat those muffins, fatten yourself up a bit. Increase your chances, so to speak."

Hanneke inclines her tawny-coloured head to the side, resting it there in almost thoughtful consideration, before, in a mad dash, she rushes back to the muffins, taking the whole basket in return. Peeling away the sticky napkin, she stares at them. Long and hard. "I didn't think dragonets noticed things like that." Ew. Citron muffins.

Kr'lin nods his head repeatedly, to emphasize the urgency of his comments, "You kidding? Dragons are mated with this person for life. Last thing a dragon wants to do is choose an unhealthy person who isn't going to have a /long/ and fulfilling life."

Hanneke accepts this with a quick nod, stuffing the first, rather damp, muffin into her mouth. At least the second layer look, for the most part, dry. Her nose wrinkles as she chews, swallowing rapidly. "Oh."

Kr'lin nods in approval of Hanneke's consuming of the muffins. Not because she's getting 'healthier', but rather, because he got her to start eating them. He really hates seeing food going to waste like that, "They also like hard working individuals. Mostly because that type of person will take better care of them." Might as well see if he can get her to do as many chores as possible. After all, a clean Weyr is a happy Weyr.

Poor Hanneke: she gags over her second muffin, which comes from the much drier, second level of the basket, shutting her eyes rather tightly as she attempts to stuff the entire muffin into her mouth at once. Eyebrows are raised as she listens to Kr'lin's words, ballooning cheeks holding back further communication. Until: Swallow. "Oh."

Kr'lin points at Hanneke's juice and comments, dryly, "You'll want to wash it down some. Don't want you to choke on a muffin or anything." It would be hard for him to explain a dead candidate and how he had no idea she would inhale an entire basket of muffins when he told her she was looking unhealthy and dragonets are more likely to Impress to healthy Candidates, "Maybe spread some butter on them. Moisten them up a bit." Not that they aren't already.

Hanneke had forgotten her juice, and now drains it without her usual graceful ease. Coughing and spluttering, the candidate glowers--very unlike her usual, cheerful self. "Ew. Nasty." She shakes her head, pushing the muffins away. "It's mean. Making me eat that *stuff*."

Kr'lin splays his hand in an innocent shrug, "How can I be considered mean when I am only trying to increase your chances of Impressing? I mean, really, you should be thanking me for telling you about these secrets." Then, he tosses on the coupe de grace, "But, if you don't want to Impress..." He shrugs again, this time adding a helplessness to it.

Hanneke considers, finally allowing a nod to cross her face as she fastens her fingers about each other, resting them within her lap. "Maybe," she allows, smile returning to her face, a giggle crossing her lips. She's not overly thankful--but that might be Impression being beyond the current picture. Too far away to think on.

Kr'lin just has to shake his head at Hanneke as she discontinues eating the muffins, "So, you don't want to Impress?" He tsktsktsks several times, "That's a shame. You would have liked having a lifemate. Never alone, always have someone to talk to. You can travel anywhere you'd like in an instant."

"I didn't say that!" trills Hanneke with enthusiasm, moving her hands to rest them upon the table. "Didn't!" She didn't say an affirmative either, though. She gives the muffins another, more sober glance, and stuffs another into her mouth. The concern lies within being too skinny, or so it seems: a careful glance is made towards her figure, as if gaguing the difference the muffins have made.

Kr'lin shakes his head, in amusement, "Well, you stopped eating muffins, so I assumed.." Then she restarts, "Okay, that's better. I'm sure you are getting closer to Impressing a dragon with every bite.

Hanneke chokes down her third muffin, her attention again moving towards her own form, her priorities made obvious through the movement. She lifts her head, swallowing, and takes another sip of her juice. "I guess so!" she agrees, nodding rapidly, although without conviction. "Are you sure you don't want one?"

Kr'lin lifts a hand in protest, "Oh no, far be it from me to hurt your chances of Impression by consuming one of your muffins." He drops the implication that not eating even one muffin could be disastrous for her Impression, "It just wouldn't be right after I gave you these secrets." He starts to stroke at his chin, feigning thought, "You know... I should expand my thoughts into a full fledged treatises, sell them to hopeful candidates. I could make a killing on it.."

"You're going to *kill* them all?" squeaks Hanneke, who attempts to move back from the table, away from the bluerider, except that, being in a heavy chair, it's fairly difficult. She eyes the muffins, and grapples with another, chewing with a haste that beats her previous attempts hands down. Coughing, she swallows, gulping for air.

Kr'lin has to laugh at her comment, "Oh no. I'm not going to kill them. It's just an expression. Means I could make /a lot/ of money." Then she inhales the muffin, literally, unfortunately, "Drink some juice. Don't want to ruin your chances of Impression by dying."

Hanneke says, with obvious intelligence, "Oh." She understands, really she does. Her head is nodded rapidly, up and down, up and down, at which point the muffin eating actually starts. Her glass is grabbed for blindly, swallowed, and she still coughs. "I don't want to die! Kill--them!" Anyone. Anyone else.

Well, she is still talking, can't be that bad. Kr'lin would hate to have to actually have to stand up and perform the Heimlicke maneuver on her, "Now, now. No need to kill your competition." See, Kr'lin can misconstrue comments too. Just his are generally intentional.

Hanneke evidently hadn't thought of her fellow candidates as competition--either in the Impression department, or the far more important looks. "No!" Her face goes pale, almost thoughtful, although that would be far too much to ask, and as a distraction, eats another muffin. More slowly, thankfully.

Katarra enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside.

Kr'lin hmms, that had a somewhat unexpected reaction, he was hoping for some reaction, but the blood draining from her face and the exclamation of horror.. Now that was unexpected.. Not uninvited, but still, "What? You never noticed that there are more Candidates than there are eggs? You know not everyone is going to Impress.. Right?"

But perhaps not entirely slowly enough. Hanneke chokes again, eyeing Kr'lin with big eyes as she coughs a lump of citron into her hand, gasping for breath a moment. "I did! I know!" Or so she claims, nodding her head rapidly, but with more control now that breath has returned to use. "But..."

Kr'lin hmms and has to comment, "That's attractive.. Spitting up partially chewed muffin." And there in lies the problem, partially chewed muffin tends to get lodged in inappropriate places. He nods to the Weyrwoman upon her arrival, "Hey there, Katarra. I was just explaining to Griselda..." He stops, corrects himself, "Err.. Hanneke, here that dragonets are more likely to Impress to healthy candidates." Once a name gets stuck in your head.. Sheesh.

Katarra scurries in from outside, quickly doffing a drizzle-slick cloak and hanging it on a peg by the entrance. "Uuuugh," she huffs, giving her long tresses a shake and quick straightening with her fingers. "Why does it have to rain so much in the fall?" The question is apparently rhetorical, since she doesn't direct it toward anyone in particular. The world in general is at fault, as is often the case with her laments. Finally settled, she takes a look around, noting those about so early, and begins to wander.

Hanneke drops the piece of citron onto the table with a moue of apparent disgust, wiping her hands off upon the napkin that started all the trouble, which only proves to make the mess upon her fingers worse. She wrinkles her nose, aimed directly towards Kr'lin as she straightens, eyes falling once more towards the basket of muffins: five down, another eight or ten to go. Her expression is definable as retched, even verging on green. "Hanneke," she insists, although without conviction, adding, "Weyrwoman." Politesse flows, at least partially.

Well now, a choking candidate is certainly an unusual enough site to catch Katarra's attention. Coming closer, she returns Kr'lin's nod and smiles warily at Hanneke. "Good morning," she ventures to both, but still peering closely at the obviously distressed girl. "Are you alright?"

Kr'lin tries to look as innocent as he can, even if he is the main reason why Hanneke is now inhaling muffins, "I merely mentioned that she was looking a bit skinny and that the muffins she had just soiled would assist in solving the problem." And when she wasn't to motivated by that ploy.. He prodded a bit.

Hanneke attempts, succeeding without too much difficulty thanks to much practice, to return Katarra's smile, although markedly without the wariness. "Oh! I'm--fine." Really. Just eating another muffin, although this one is broken into pieces and chewed, rather than sucked in whole. She nods rapidly towards Kr'lin's explanation. "He could see my bones!" Or so he said.

Kr'lin nods in return to Hanneke's continuation of his explanation, "It looked downright unhealthy." And just hopefully to get Katarra in on his little ploy, "I felt it my duty as a dragonrider to inform her that she was harming her chances to Impress if she didn't put some meat on her bones."

Katarra listens to Kr'lin's explanation and immediately turns to look Hanneke over for herself. Her head tilts slightly, lips pursing in concentration. But not for long. "Don't be silly, Kr'lin," she concludes, waving one hand. "She's fit enough to dodge an awkward dragonet, or keep on her feet if one knocks into her, aren't you, dear?" So much for catching on. "And what do you mean 'soiled' muffins? Why are we getting soiled muffins?" Pert nose wrinkles at the very idea of eating such a thing.

Hanneke adds, attempting to clarify, "But putting meat on my bones doesn't mean that there's meat in the muffins, or that I'm going to put meat there. Just--" she trails off, nodding enthusiastically at this piece of information that she has picked up over the course of this morning. A pause follows, as Katarra's conclusion is made, and she flushes. "Oh. Yes!" The napkin beside her is lifted, still dripping juice. "They got wet."

Kr'lin's fun has been ruined by a concerned Weyrwoman, "Got wet after she spilled her juice all over the table and wouldn't clean it up until I reminder her several times." Why does Kr'lin feel like he is trying to convince his mother he hasn't done anything wrong? "I can't help it if she used the napkin off the muffins, thus threatening to let them cool quicker than they would normally."

"Meat -in- the..." Katarra starts to echo, her face sqwunching up as her words falter. "Ick! That does -not- sound appetizing." One hand settles lightly across her stomach at the mere thought. "Although, Kr'lin," she adds with a slight grin, "I wouldn't put it past you to try such a thing." This from the girl who almost killed G'briel from aphixiation when they were candidates with her own attempts at cooking. "Wet? Oh, what a shame! They are the best this early in the morning. Fresh out of the ovens. You can't possibly eat them now - no, no." With that she turns about, searching for the nearest drudge to request more muffins. Heaven forbid she should go get them herself...

Hanneke's expression turns relieved, and perhaps less green as she ceases eating the muffins by the handful. "They aren't," she notes, archly, although that's possibly not intentionally, "all that tasty." Being citron, *and* wet. She doesn't glance in Kr'lin's direction, not even to admit that he is, in fact, correct in his explanation. Shhh.

Kr'lin is stunned at the accusation and he must defend his honor! "I had nothing to do with meat being in the muffins!" Oh, great, now he's furthering Hanneke's misinterpretation of his comment. "Not that there is any meat in them. I said it put meat on your bones, not that there was meat in the muffins." He then pauses and looks out towards the bowl, then sighs, heavily, "Oh bloody hell.. You'd better catch her." Darn dragon, trying to make a perfectly good day an absolutely horrid one.

Kyla darts into the room, skin flushed and hair wet from the baths. Eyes quickly scan the group and don't see a certain bronze rider. "Good..." she mutters to herself, trying to calm down. "Wine..good thing..yes wine." See what happens to you when you impress?

Katarra's glance turns briefly toward the bowl as well, the growing stirrings of the dragons in responce to a rising green passed on through her mate's link even though the queen is preoccupied on the sands. "Kr'lin!" Katarra tsks sharply, eyes darting toward the young candidate. "Language, please." As if a Harper doesn't probably already know every colorful expression known to man. "Maybe you should take some of these muffins with you," she says with a twitch of a smile, assuming the rider will be joining his dragon soon. "Saironth can use all the meat he can get before he flies."

Meat and muffins drop from Hanneke's consciousness as first Kr'lin and then Kyla are given strange glances. Not as if she's not been at Ista for flights, but...The conversation consequently goes over her head, and she sits back, eyeing the damp muffins with a moue of revulsion.

Kr'lin eyes Kyla, annoyed he is, he was having such a good time bringing Hanneke's over eager in the morning self down to his level, "Atleast you could have waited until the evening." Then he could have gotten sloshed and collapsed in bed to sleep it off.

Kyla finds what she was looking for, one of her infamously stashed wine skins. "Shut up Kr'lin. Last thing I want to hear right now is /your/ smart mouth." Candidates are completely ignored though Kat gets a glare as she stalks by. "Come on.."

Katarra murmers a few requests to the drudge that finally comes near, then turns her attention to Kyla, obviously in a state of pre-flight iraticness. As the few early-risen males in the room begin to move toward the greenrider, Katarra leans closer to Hanneke to say, "Kyla's Niabeth is about to rise.

Kyla walks out of the Living Caverns into the bowl.

Hanneke raises her left eyebrow, then nods her head slowly, noting, "Oh. They go all strange." The apt statement is followed by a sip of her juice, which is swallowed comfortingly, finishing the glass.

Kr'lin snorts at the greenrider, but that doesn't prevent him from following her, "Well, if you don't want to hear my smart mouth, then work on getting your dragon to go up in the evening.." Granted, she's already gone and he's talking to an empty spot at the entrance to the bowl.

Katarra nods most definitely. "You've no idea," she replies with a wry grin. "Some worse than others."

Hanneke raises one eyebrow, questioning, "How are some worse than others?" She's honestly curious, resting her hands upon the table in front of her, avoiding any glances at the now ignored basket of sopping muffins.

Although slow to arrive, the drudge is quicker to return now that the request has been made, rather pertly, by the Weyrwoman. A large basket, with muffins still steaming from the ovens is sat between the two woman, along with a platter with several bowls on it. The bowls hold several spreads like butter, jams, and jellies. Next a round of cheese appears, complete with a half-loaf of bread, silverware and napkins. And, of course, the drudge would not be remiss enough to serve Katarra and forget to top off the meal with sweetrolls. They gleam with icing that just begs to be enjoyed.

Katarra smiles lightly, looking the selections over with a 'it'll do' expression before the relieved drudge finishes. "What, no drink?" Katarra asks. "Oh, yes! Sorry, coming right up!" the drudge exclaims, scurring off. Katarra sits straighter in her seat and beams a smile at Hanneke. "There now, we'll see who's bones are showing by hatching time, won't we?" she says, waving a hand over the feast. "Eat up!" Waiting, she watches Hanneke as if expecting the girl to eat it all herself!

Hanneke's eyes go wide with the extensive nature of the spread, and the immediate progress of the drudges in their call to task. She straightens, watching as if mystified, head shaking back and forth in--awe? "Eat?" Another pause, and she gulps, reaching tentatively towards one of the muffins, breaking it apart to spread it carefully with butter. "They give this to you, all the time?" Muffin number six is bitten into with naturally straight, white teeth.

Katarra smiles with a touch of pride, urged on by your obvious impression. "Yes," she concedes. "Ista is well provided for by it's Holders." Looking over the muffins as if some miniscule difference will determine the only edible one, she slowly makes a selection and spreads a napkin to set it on. "Well, most of them anyway," she adds with a slight change of expression. "Lord Wangle has the wits of a VTOL. Some days one has to wonder how he manages to find his way out of bed in the morning. But fortunately his mate is easier to deal with. Oh.. and then there's Lord Vir." Her eyes gain a bit of sparkle as she lowers her voice. "I can barely speak to the man with a straight face. Where he inherited that spiked hair of his, I'll never know. Poor man." Quick, make a run for it - this could go on all morning!

Hanneke's posture can hardly go any straighter, so it is with a perfect primness that she sits, nodding her head in a careful measure of understanding as she listens. Her muffin is eaten with perfect politesse, this time, at any rate: she breaks it into further pieces, swallowing only a small piece at a time. "As I gather," she murmurs, verging on demure, an impression that hardly lasts long. "There're holders like that? I thought that silly people were only in the ballads!" She wrinkles her nose in an extreme measure, adding with enthusiasm, "Spiked hair! Oh, horrors! I can't imagine having horrible hair--it's just an important thing, don't you think?"

"Oh my dear, you have -no- idea," Katarra shares, still keeping her voice lowered. A butter-laden knife swings with her gesturing hand, in danger of losing it's burden. Lifting her chin in a quick motion to one side, she tosses a few of her own highly-regarded honey-gold tresses over her shoulder. Mmm-hmm... very important, obviously. "Can you even imagine what could make a person's hair -do- that?" On a sudden tangent, she adds urgingly, "Eat up, now. You'll be glad you did later. Here, have some bread and cheese." She isn't going to be satisifed till you've gained at least 10lbs.>' to login to an existing character.

Whereas Hanneke would probably be far more satisfied *losing* 10lbs. Nonetheless, she does as she's told, obedient to a fault, and cuts herself a compliant slice of bread and cheese. "Oh, I'm sure I don't!" agrees the candidate with a firmly bobbed head, never one to exagerate her understanding of a subject. Her own, tawny hued curls are smoothed within their elaborate styling with a hand mostly clean, even throughout the events of the morning. "Oh, no! Surely there would be a way to prevent it--and as a Holder, surely it would be a reasonable idea, but...Men," she decides, finally, "Have no idea."

Katarra has to laugh at that, her expression one of complete agreement. "So true, so true," she muses. "That sums it all up. What would they do without us, hm?" Whereas she has been attempting to stuff you like a Christmas Day stocking, she only just now takes her first nibble of buttered muffin. "In fact, Lord Vir only proves that point. He isn't mated. And it's no wonder. I'd be afraid of getting an eye poked out should he try to kiss me!" Another spurt of giggles follows. This is what comes of being cooped up with nothing but a pensive dragon and big round non-talkative eggs for too long.

Hanneke positively beams, not that smiles are hard to come by from the Harper candidate, who rests her hands upon the table for a moment, her portions of the meal disappearing fairly quickly for all her measured reluctance. "Oh, I know! They have no taste, either--one of my fellow apprentices," former or not, she makes no difference between them, "refused to wear *purple* pants, even though they would have looked *wonderful*!" She continues to nod, giggling brilliantly. "Oh! That would be *funny*!"

Kr'lin enters from the Weyr's bowl, outside.

Kr'lin enters the caverns, left hand rubbing at the sore knuckles on his right. "Bloody dragon." is murmured as he heads for the bar. He merely glares at the poor person behind the bar and circles it himself. Several bottles are removed. "Now I have to get plastered. Just lovely."

"Oh look," notes Katarra, having tilted the basket toward her. "There's still a couple muffins left. Here, you just -have- to eat these or the cook will be terribly offended. Can't have that. Oh, and the sweetrolls..." So saying, she plucks the largest iced selection and places it before the dietarily-doomed candidate. "Purple?" she questions, pondering the idea. "I haven't seen much of that color - it never really suited me. Doesn't usually do well for fair complexions, you know." She smiles winningly, being the conneseur of clothing that she is. Well, if one can be called a 'conneseur' just for buying alot, that is.

Hanneke's face falls, an expression of consternation, as if she was trying to count exactly how much she will be gaining over the course of the morning, and dutifully outstretches her fingers to pick up the sweetroll, managing a brilliant smile--it must be a natural reaction--before sinking her teeth into it. Having both chewed and swallowed, the woman explains, "He's dark, and so--it would look really good! I go for pastels, myself," she adds, indicating her own clothes. "They look good with my hair, which is very important." Positivley beaming for real now, she settles back, comfortable. This being 'her' subject, and all. A glance is made towards the returning Kr'lin, eyes slightly wide.

Kr'lin moves toward an isolated table, no need in him becoming distracted by another. Much better to use the liquor to dull his senses and the urges filling his head, "Told him he would have to win." Katarra and Hanneke are ignored. Distractions, they are.

Katarra notes Kr'lin's arrival as well, by way of a sideways glance that lingers a moment following his progress to the bar. "Speaking of men who need a woman's guidance," she murmers, winking at Hanneke. The progress made on the sweetroll is duly noted, in fact, she decides to sample one herself, and cuts a small one in half. Before taking a bite, though, she runs a glance over Hanneke's clothing and nods. "Yes, pastels do suit you well. I like them as well. This dress is one of my favorites, in fact." An overly-dramatic sigh follows. "I really should retire it, but I haven't been able to force myself to do so."

Hanneke indulges in a giggle at Kr'lin's expense, Katarra's wink returned with some difficulty--both eyes seem to want to perform the action. "Poor thing," she adds, although his plight is almost certainly not understood as she watches him a moment, and returns to eating her sweetroll with diligent grace. Katarra's appraisal of her clothing is greeted with a beaming smile, Hanneke noting, "Thank you! I love pretty colours, don't you?" Her eyes roam over the Weyrwoman's dress, and she nods. "It's *lovely*. I wish I could wear dresses more often. They get in the way."

Kr'lin removes the cork from one of the bottles and starts to drain the bottle. Who needs a glass. One can save much time, and thus, get drunk quicker, if one skips the pouring into a glass, but rather, pours the liquor directly into his gullet. He catches the giggle, not in a good mood he is, and her giggling isn't helping it any. "Just you wait." is what comes out. The rest censored prior to escaping his mouth.

Katarra looks about to speak, when suddenly her expression abruptly changes. Distraction. Vague. Both sum up the glazed look that takes over. It doesn't last long, though, as she soon blinks and seems to shake herself ever so slightly, looking quickly about. "It seems my dearest Taji has decided she's been alone long enough," she says by way of apology, a long-suffering smile lifting her lips for the quirks of her demanding lifemate. One hand swings over the many leftovers. "Please, eat up. Don't let any go to waste now, ok?" The hand waggles in a wave of farewell, kindly including the grumpy loser in it's wake as well. "Bye, Kr'lin," she smirks. "Try not to at least get back to your weyr before you fall over."

Hanneke's mouth opens, and she nods blankly, eventually manging to get her mouth around the word--"Oh! Oh, okay. Say hello for me!" She blurts that much out, hesitating as if not sure where she came upon the words, promptly returning to eat. "I won't, I won't!" She eyes Kr'lin vaguely, expression blank once more, but smiles sweetly all the same.

Katarra walks out of the Living Caverns into the bowl.

Kr'lin takes a couple more drags from his bottle, then waves Hanneke over, "Come 'ere. Nothing worse than getting drunk by yourself." Who is he kidding.. Distractions can be interesting, not to mention, fulfilling, "Besides, you look like you could do with a stiff belt."

Hanneke hesitates visibly, as if wavering between one thought and another. Discrecion fails to win out, as does common sense, and she follows the wave, moving to stand nearby to Kr'lin. "Oh?" Pause. "Belt!?" She's confused. It's normal, really.

Kr'lin hmms and nods, holding one of his unopened bottles towards Hanneke, "Yeah. Belt. Take a drink. You'll see." Or rather, after drinking this rot gut, she won't see. "You should try some, it'll put hair on your chest." Good way to entice a female to take a drink.. Yeah.

Hanneke peers towards the bottle, giggling again with some obscene delight at this situation. "Belt?" she repeats once more, unsure on the context of the word, head shaking back and forth as she sinks into an empty seet, staring at the bottle. "Am I allowed to?" she asks, voice raising to a squeak at the end of the word. "I don't want hair! Ew! Hair is for the *head*!"

Kr'lin waves a dismissive hand, "Why wouldn't you be allowed to have a drink? Drinking isn't what gets female's pregnant." Atleast, not directly, "You've drunk alcohol before, neh?" Her response to the hair on chest comment gets a chuckle from him.

"*Pregnant*" repeats Hanneke with obvious revulsion, keeping her hands safely by her sides. "Ew." She nods, hesitantly--let's not go into what happened the only other time she even considered drinking. She pauses, then stands, smoothing her clothes down. "I'm just going to go and, er, have a bath. Er, okay? Bye!" She escapes with a skip, a strand of hair bobbing about her face as she departs.

You head into the Living Quarters.